B. Loski's Point of View
Halfway into the second movie, I noticed Naomi's house was suspiciously quiet. Usually, by this time, her mom would be rushing out the door or her brother would be waking up and murmuring about how hungry he was.
"Where's your Mom?" I asked, a mouthful of microwaved popcorn, catching a few burned pieces.
"Went in early to get some overtime," explained Naomi, her eyes never leaving the TV. I nodded a little even though I knew she wasn't looking in my direction.
"And your brother?"
"Hell if I know," she shrugged, grabbing the gummy bears from off the table and popping a red one into her mouth. She looked over at me now, stealing some of the popcorn from the bowl rested in my lap, "This is fun, yeah?"
I chuckled, nodding in agreement, "Of course."
She continued to watch the movie, but I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't focus. I wondered what was distracting me so much that I couldn't even let it distract me anymore. I don't know.
