Jamie spends more time in his room than he does everywhere else in the house. His room is all orange walls, comics, and sketch books placed neatly on his bookshelf.
He has to walk pass Zack to get to the stairs, to get to his room.
“Why’re you just standing there?” Zack chuckles, scratching the stubble on his jaw.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. You scared me.”
“Heh, I just got back from Oklahoma. From my dad’s funeral,” Zack says, looking away and back. “He died from pneumonia. I always thought he’d die from lung cancer before some shit like pneumonia.”
Zack pauses like Jamie is supposed to laugh at the morbid statement. He barely grins, nods, and says, “Sorry. I have to do my homework.”
He takes three stairs at a time, his messenger bag thumping roughly against his hip. He closes the door a little too hard, and stands there, breathing loudly through his nostrils.
It’s only when five minutes passes and Zack doesn’t knock on the door that Jamie calls Alexandria.
YOU ARE READING
Psyche
Teen FictionJamie's other name might as well have been Silent. He went to school, visited his therapist, daydreamed about Jean Paul, and tried to never be alone when his aunt's boyfriend was in the house. He kept to himself. He was fine with that pattern till A...
