Amaranthine

Chapter Seven

© Copyright 2011
All work is property of Leah Crichton, any duplication or reproduction of all or part of the work without explicit permission by the author is illegal.

Flummox: (fluhm-uh ks)\

to be a mystery or bewildering to

to confuse or perplex

 

When I got home, Luke sat at the kitchen table with Snickers curled up at his feet either sleeping or pretending to be asleep; I couldn’t tell which, but I was glad the dog learned that I still couldn’t handle his usual greeting. Not yet. “Hey,” Luke said, “how’d it go?”

“School or rehab?” I wanted clarification regarding how what went.

“Both,” Luke said, digging his hand into a bag of pretzels.

 “School. It was good. Better than I thought it would be. I kind of made friends already. Rehab was terrible.” I made sure my tone implied the worst.

“Glad to hear you’ve made friends. I knew you wouldn’t have a problem. Rehab. Elaborate.” He shoved the bag of pretzels in my direction.

I moved closer to him and took some of the salty snacks, stuffing them into my mouth. The crunch they made when I chewed echoed loudly in my head. “Imagine if you will the feeling of total helplessness while someone bends your body in ways it was never meant to bend. The words torture, excruciating, agonizing, unbearable, they all come to mind. To make it worse, it was at the hands of a deceptively pretty lady formerly named Julie. She is now called The Punisher.”

 He scowled. “Ouch.”

“Ouch doesn’t cover it.”

“You’ll be fine.” The appropriate level of sympathy for my suffering was of no concern to him.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, taking another handful of pretzels. “Can’t promise the same for The Punisher.”

“That’s a little harsh, I.Q.; she’s the one who is going to help you get rid of those things.” He nodded at my crutches. “But hey, one out of two’s not bad. Anything else?” His eyes searched my face. He was referring to something more specific. “Ireland?” he exaggerated my name.

Oh. Right. The name game.  “I go by Quinn now.”

He smiled. “Thought you’d like it. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you,” I scolded. “It was a good idea in theory, but now I’ve got the hottest guy in the school trying to guess my real name. Eventually I’m going to have to tell him.”

“So tell him, then. And why is the hottest,” he brought his fingers up to indicate quotations, “guy in the school in your business?”

I made my way to the fridge to retrieve a soda. “He’s not in my business, Luke. He was showing me around today. He carried my backpack and everything.”

“What’s his name?” Luke’s brows knit together. His Superman complex was beginning to show.

“His name’s Orion.”

“What the hell kind of name is Orion?” 

“What the hell kind of name is Ireland?” I retorted.                  

“Touché.” He pretended to be defeated and slumped his shoulders. “Well, don’t trust people so soon, I.Q. You never know.”

I didn’t try to hide my annoyance with him. “I swear to God, Luke, there is no pleasing you. First all of you tell me to stop being miserable about moving; it won’t be so bad. Now I tell you you’re right, maybe it’s not so bad, and you’re warning me not to be so sure about it.”