Perfectly Flawed

Completely Cold

"Labels are for filing.  Labels are for clothing.  Labels are not for people." - Martina Navratilova

The next morning there was no one in the kitchen. I had not heard Dad come back home last night and Mom had gone to bed early. Now, at six-thirty, not a soul except me wandered around the house. Or, so I thought.

I walked up to the fridge and looked at each shelf, trying to decide on what to have for breakfast. Eggs? A bagel? Waffles? So many choices.

"Good morning, Miss Brown," Petya said, startling me.

I hit my head on one of the shelves and stepped back, rubbing my head. When I looked at the woman she had a brown bag in her hands with my name carefully written across it. 

"Morning," I said hesitantly. Rarely was I ever alone in the same room with Petya. Usually Mom would be there or sometimes Dad. Never just the two of us.

"This is for you," she said, handing me the bag. "It is your lunch. And, I have already made some breakfast."

I looked at her, narrowing my eyes, but took the bag from her . "Where's my mom?"

"She is still upstairs," Petya answered. "I will take her her breakfast. I put your food on a tray in the living room."

This all felt too weird. Whenever did Petya make my breakfast? 

I went into the living room and saw an omlet waiting for me on the coffee table along with a cup of orange juice. Sitting down, I flipped on the televsion and went straight to the news. The newscasters were talking about Evan Saunders. There were no new leads on the murderer. I changed the channel, looking for the weather when I found a talk show and on it was Evan Saunder's parents. 

Leslie Harper, the talk show host, hammered them with questions, speficically about any flaws that Evan might have had. His parents answered, but looked a little dazed by all the lights and questions. I sat and watched, my omlet growing cold. It was hard to take my eyes of the car crash playing in front of me. My heart broke as the two parents tried to make it through the interview and yet I wished that they had stayed away from Leslie Harper. Anything and everything about Evan Saunders would soon be top gossip. Who had killed him might fade into the background as his flaws became prime gossip.

I finally took a bite of my omlet. It had a strange taste. I looked down at and bits of peppers. Maybe Petya had added something different to the mix. Shrugging, I ate half of the omlet and drank my orange juice. All the while watching as the Saunders were interrogated by Leslie Harper. 

I stood and picked up my plate. After scraping the last half of the omlet, I put the plate in the dishwasher and then grabbed my lunch. Petya was gone now. As I stood there in the kitchen I realized how empty the house felt. I wished that Dad was there to sit at the kitchen table and drink his coffee while looking over some briefs. What had happened to my parents? 

* * *

"Did you see his parents on TV?"

"I wonder who did it?"

"Do you think they'll find the killer?"

"I told my therapist all about! She gave me some prescriptions."

"My parents want me to start going to counseling."

All anyone at school could talk about was Evan Saunders and his parents on the Harper Show. I walked to my locker, pulling out my headphones. The sound of music would hopefuly drown out the people around me. 

Music filled my world with heavy basses and drums. Nothing could break through the sound. I pulled books from my locker and shoved them into my backpack. Zoe would be waiting for me at our usual meeting spot, the half-way mark between our two lockers at the water fountain. I closed and locked my locker and then turned to start walking.