Daughter ✯ Kellic

Chapter Three

I had decided on speaking with Mike first. If anything, I could hear his side of what I had seen, and take that into consideration when talking to Kellin about that box. I have to pick Mike up from the hospital later, then I'm going to bring him to the school and talk to the principal (luckily it's a staff only work day). I'm not looking forward to the conversation, but I am required to, by law, make sure that the school is aware of Mike's current situation. Honestly, I'm not too sure what the principal is going to say about the whole drug thing, but I have a feeling things will be alright. I mean, I'm sure Mike wasn't doing that shit at school, so I'm truly hoping they don't force the law on us.

Kellin isn't awake yet. I'm not aware of what time it is, but I know it's early. I made myself a small amount of coffee, just enough to fill up a mug, and am currently seated on the couch, staring out the window. Alone. I hate being alone, and I'm usually not. Either Mike, Kellin, or Copeland is always available for company. But, at the moment, I sit alone on the couch, watching cars lazily drive down the street.

There isn't a whole lot of peace to be found in it, but I don't really mind anymore. Sometimes, I can think a little too much, and end up desiring another human being's company, but I don't feel like I'm thinking very intensely right now. I'm in my own peaceful little world, waiting for Mike to call and tell me to come pick him up.

I don't even know what I'm going to say to him; just thinking about the interrogation is making me nervous. He was always a troublemaker, but this caught me very far off guard. Not only would I have never imagined that he would even shoot up with the heroin, I also was surprised that he was allergic to it. Except, it was definitely better that way, because if he wasn't allergic, he may have gone too far. I really don't want to think about how this all would have turned out if he hadn't had a reaction.

I turn my head when I hear something drop on the floor towards the staircase, meaning Kellin is probably awake. I get up and navigate to the kitchen, restarting the task of making coffee. The machine gurgles and makes other odd noises as I find a loaf of bread in a bread box located in a random cabinet, grabbing four slices of it before twisting the end of the bag shut again.

I stuff two slices of bread into the toaster and wait for them to heat up, grabbing a plate from its designated residence in a cabinet while doing so. I also grab butter and a butter knife, setting them on the counter top next to the toaster and continuing to wait.

Kellin walks in and raises his nose slightly, sniffing around the kitchen before turning to face me. "You aren't burning the toast, are you?" he questions, skipping the "good morning" bullshit that I really don't want to deal with. I shake my head before raising my mug to my lips and taking a sip of the warm, vanilla flavored coffee. I may be playing it cool on the outside, but on the inside, I'm secretly praying that he doesn't ask me about where Mike is.

I attempt to keep the small conversation going to keep that from happening. "If I were burning the toast, the smoke alarm would be going off," I stupidly point out the obvious. He raises an eyebrow in confusion and I choose to pretend that he's silently asking where his coffee is. "I'm making some more, by the way," I say, pointing to the pot currently making strange noises.

"Okay?" he asks more than states, continuing to look confused. "So...uh, where-"

"Where did I buy the coffee grounds?" I cut him off quickly, making up a stupid question to cover what I believed he was about to finish asking. "Wal-Mart," I answer myself, grinning.

"That wasn't what I was going to ask, but good to know," he says quietly, standing. "I guess bring me a cup when your Wal-Mart coffee is done." He pushes his chair in and walks out to the living room. I face-palm at how pathetic of a cover up that was. The first two slices of finished toast pop up and I jump slightly in surprise with them. This morning is a disaster already. "Make Copeland a bottle!" I hear Kellin yell from the living room.