Into the Flames

Chapter 8

Dylan walked into the house in a brooding mood, relieved for some reason that Jenna didn’t like Duke, but annoyed by the fact that Duke liked her. He didn’t even know why he was attracted to Jenna; she wasn’t the best looking girl he’s ever seen, and her caustic personality could make a person cringe. But something about her just made him drawn to her.

            He heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, taking his hat and glasses off, placing it on the desk. Adam and Gianna both walked in together. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

            They shrugged, both taking a seat on his bed. “We were bored,” she said, flicking a piece of lint off of his clean bed sheets. “How was your day?”

            “It was interesting,” he said, lying down on the bed. “Jenna sure is an interesting person. You remember the guys she fought with that one time, right? Turns out she lived in an abandoned building with them because her aunt and uncle are alcoholics.”

            Adam let out a low whistle. “Rough life, yeah?”

            “Rough would be an understatement,” said Gianna.

            “Why do you dislike her?” asked Dylan.

            “Me?” asked Gianna, confused. “I like Jenna. What’re you talking about?”

            “Not you, Gianna. You like everyone. I was talking to Adam.”

            Adam looked up at the ceiling. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, diverting the question.

            “What do you mean?” asked Dylan.

            “I’ve seen your face for long enough to know when something’s on your mind.”

“It’s nothing,” said Dylan with a wave of his hand. “And don’t try to change the subject.”

            “I don’t want to answer your question.”

            “Adam, we’re not going to say anything.”

            “I don’t want to.”

            “Adam.”

            “I don’t want to,” said Adam, emphasizing each syllable, with a flash of fire in his brown eyes. A moment later, the anger subsided.

            “Fine,” said Dylan, pouting like a little boy. “I won’t tell you what’s wrong with me, then.”

            “Dylan, it would save a lot more time to just ask you what isn’t wrong with you,” said Gianna. Dylan pushed her off the bed with his leg.

            Meanwhile, a couple of doors down, Jenna lay in bed after taking a shower. She felt like a burden was taken off her chest; she always wanted to leave her aunt and uncle ever since she first lived with them. Jenna frowned as she remembered the odd question Dylan asked her. She was almost relieved when she got called to dinner, glad to have something distract her from the thoughts floating around her head.

           

            “Can we come?” The next afternoon, Jenna donned her old jacket and Dylan’s shirt with her usual dirty jeans and shoes. She looked up as she was tying her shoes; Gianna, Adam, and Dylan were all looking at her.