Unexpected

| xii | i know

xii~when his footsteps sound and you want to hide

xii-xii-xii-xii-xii

Stephanie likes her family's attic. When she was younger, her babysitters used to tell her that her house was haunted, and that she was never to go into the attic because a vengeful ghost lived there. Of course, she ignored them. The attic has stuffy air and the dust particles are soaring-floating freely in the sifting light.

There are several old boxes, none of which Steph takes any mind to except a certain plastic one that she sits upon. She goes into the attic to use the little, old television to its potential. She has plenty of video tapes and nowhere to watch them as her mother always occupies the larger, newer television.

On the days when she does not feel like re-watching the same old movies, she will take a book and sit in the barred circle of light on the floor. There the words come to life, and she is warm. And safe. There are no secrets, there is no pain.

She does not have to worry about feeling the symptoms of her mother's disease, nor does she fret about her father's upcoming debt. In the attic, everything goes away until it is just her in her happy little world.

Now she is older; nearly sixteen. Everyone is far over 'Full House', the show of her childhood. She still watches the reruns whenever they are on, wishing she looked like DJ instead of suffering from her own drab, brown hair. She wishes she was half as pretty as the other Stephanie, but it is not so.

Stephanie Carin is simply... normal.

Her life is not; not by any means. Nor is her personality. She lives in a house where the daughter cares for her parents even though they have not yet touched their fifties. She struggles to hide her bothersome scars only to slice them back open when panic seizes her heart and she fears that she will collapse like she has seen her mother do too many times.

Since Duke came into her life, things have improved. He is kind and sweet to her. A little dorky and goofy, with a wide smile that splits his face in two. He smells a bit like marijuana, but his comforting embrace makes up for it. His relaxed state helps calm Stephanie. When he is not there for her, which is rare nowadays, she retreats to the attic.

"Steph?"

She turns around from where she is looking out a small attic window. Duke is emerging from the little staircase. There is a nervous smile on his face and a book in his hand.

"Hey, I found this in the library... It looks like something you'd like," he hands it to her. She takes a look at the title and crinkles her nose.

"Is this in French?" She asks. Duke shrugs, but at this point his attention has been taken. He is sometimes like a dog; often distracted and eager to please. "I'll give it a try. What's it about?"

"Something about the strength of the human soul through trial and error. That sort of pretentious stoner shit."

"I'm not a stoner. That's you, remember?" Stephanie steps close to him and stands on her tiptoes to press a sweet kiss to his lips. He smiles against her.

"You're not denying that you're pretentious." His eyes light up and he holds her at arm's length. His dark eyes glitter. "Hey, you're pretentious and I'm a stoner, so together we're a pretentious stoner."

Stephanie laughs. "I don't think it works that way." They kiss again, but their intimate touch remains innocent. Stephanie, while she loves Duke, does not feel comfortable going any farther. He respects this.

"This place is pretty sick," Duke notes, looking around eagerly. His eyes fixate on a box nearby. "Have you ever thought of looking through your folks' old stuff?"