Blocked

Thirteen

The next couple days progressed slowly. Before I knew it, Thursday had arrived, with not much to do. Once I was finished with my schoolwork, I decided to lounge out on the living room couch and read a book. Izzy was down for a nap and Ben was absorbed in his video games. It was all peace and quiet.

Tires screeching outside pulled my attention away from my book. I bolted towards the living room window and peered out.

I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Cars sat silently parked right where they belonged. The block was empty, no one in sight.

"Idiots," I mumbled and sunk back down onto the couch. Just as I started to get comfortable, Izzy begin to cry. I was off the couch just as fast as I had sat down.

When I entered her room, I saw her standing in her crib and gripping the wooden bars. Tears streamed down her face as she cried, looking up at me. I walked over to her crib and picked her up, holding her close to me.

"What's the matter?" I asked, gentleness in my voice. She must have had a nightmare, I thought. Her daily naps usually go by without any problems.

"Come on, you're okay," I whispered, rocking her back and forth. She was hysterical, and I felt helpless.

"Look Izzy, look!" I excitedly reached into her crib for a stuffed panda bear named Cookie. Cookie was Izzy's favorite stuffed animal. He was also a gift from dad for her baby shower.

As soon as she saw the panda bear, she grabbed it and held it in the crook of her arm. Her crying ceased, but she still appeared to be upset by something.

"My goodness, Izzy," I said, and kissed her forehead. She held tightly onto the panda bear and let out shaky breaths. I began to sway back and forth, humming softly.

Within a few moments, her body went limp in my arms. Cookie fell silently to the floor, and a smile slipped onto my face.

"There you go," I whispered, gently placing her back into the crib. 

From Izzy's room, I heard the sound of the living room TV turning on, overlapping the television dialogue already coming from Ben's bedroom. I grumbled under my breath and dragged myself back into the living room, getting ready to scold Ben for not turning off the TV in his bedroom before turning on another one.

The living room sat empty and quiet, aside from the now running television. I stood in stunned silence, swallowing my reprimand. I made my way oven to Ben's room and poked my head inside. There he sat at the end of his bed, his fingers tapping away at the video game controller he held with a vice grip.

"It's either video games or TV, you can't choose both," I said, crossing my arms.

"Huh?" he asked, his eyes remaining on the screen.

"You're clearly still engrossed in your game. Don't try to use the living room TV if you're still using this one." This time he paused his game and turned to face me.

"Again. Huh?"

I rolled my eyes. "You just turned on the living room TV, Ben. Focus. Dad would kill you if he knew you were running up the electric bill like that."

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "I've been in here the whole time."

I leaned my shoulder into the door frame. "You're not funny, and you're not fooling anyone. It was either you, or a ghost."

"Then I guess the house is haunted," he shrugged his shoulders. "'Cause it wasn't me." He turned back around and resumed his video game. I felt like arguing further, but decided not to. Trying to reason with a nine-year-old was like trying to reason with, well - a nine-year-old.