The Fourth Roommate

Family and Phone Calls

"Okay... shoot," I ventured nervously.

"What do you prefer, Dr. Pepper or Coca Cola?" came Ace's deadly serious voice.

"Dr. Pepper," I decided confidently.

"Thats... inhuman," came Ace's strained voice, "Dr. Pepper has no culture... nothing. How could you do this?"

"Low blow," Zac agreed.

"Excuse me, Dr. Pepper is awesome. Way better than Coca cola," I snapped, feeling defensive.

"Agreed," Cam said.

I mentally high-fived Cam. Thank heavens that someone in this house had taste- other than me. I didn't know if I could live with it if no one thought that Dr. Pepper was so much better than Coca Cola. I yawned, my hand covering my mouth, and accidently elbowing Ace in the process. He winced and cursed under his breath, and I thought of that K word... karma. It was obviously showing Ace which was better, Dr. Pepper or Coca Cola. And of course... Dr. Pepper.

"Moving on..." said Cam hastily, "So, whats the hardest thing you've ever had to do?"

"Going to my dads funeral," I said, feeling tears prickle behind my eyes.

I had been eight when he died, and I would remember that day for the rest of my life. My mom, the toughest lady I knew, turned ash pale and sank to the ground, huddling together as if she was trying to keep from falling apart. I didn't understand it, kept on asking where daddy was and why mom was crying.

"Aw, I'm so sorry," Zac said, and then with difficulty, manged to pull an arm round my shoulder.

I sniffled half-heartedly against his broad chest.

"My own family is dead," Ace told me, to comfort me I suspected, "In a fire. I was like four and some fireman rescued me before I turned into a baby steak."

"I'm so sorry!" I cried out, my jaw dropping.

"No biggie. I don't remember them- apparently I'm reppressing my memories," Ace said drily. It was obvious to me that he was putting on this tough guy act so no one would see how deeply it affected him.

This was terrible. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, and I sat up, violently ripping Zac's arm round my shoulder and engulfed Ace is a bear hug. His breathing hitched as I painfully collided with his rock hard chest and probaly tackled the air out of his lungs. He started to pat my back, awkwardly and I disentangled myself quickly, embarrassed.

"Then he moved in with his adoptive family, and we met in High School," Zac told me.

"What about you guys?" I asked.

"I'm the oldest boy in a family of six- three boys, three girls," Zac told me, "My dad got remarried you see... and he had another boy and girl."

"Oh, was the divorce tough?" I asked sympathetically.

"Nope, my mom and dad were happier without each other and my dad lived only a few blocks away so it wasn't as if he ditched us," Zac said, shrugging.

He was putting on a whole Macho act, but I wasn't fooled. No one wanted to see their parents split, if it was because of death or because of a divorce, it was hard either way. I grasped his hand, and he didn't let go. We were like mismatched crayons in a box, each one oddly different but had enough rainbow to make them special to one another. I always thought of crayons as a family, who had little parties when the lid when on the box, the only trace they left was the smudges on the cardboard.

Sure I may be slighlty paranoid, but I was sure I hadn't left any marks on the box, but the next time I opened the lid there were lines and smudges everywhere. And I didn't have amnesia. Those crayons were up to something, mark my words.