Nora Stevenson

Chapter Seven

Liam wakes up.

"Huh...?" He looks around, confused, before he remembers that he's in Eli Stevenson's house. Groaning sleepily and stretching, he gazes out the window toward the backyard.

Then he remembers.

The memory of his fight with Nora seems to drop down onto his shoulders, weighing them down more and more with every second. Yet he still wasn't ready to forgive her. I just gave her what she deserved, he thinks. A good, old-fashioned tongue lashing. He knows Nora will be angry with him. He doesn't care. "Let her think what she wants," he convinces himself. "It's none of your business."

He tosses the sheets off of his body and shivers. Brrr. Climbing out of the queen-sized bed, he rolls his shoulders back. They pop loudly. Donning the plushy gray bathrobe hanging inside his bathroom, he brushes his teeth and then puts on the matching slippers.

Opening the door slowly, cautious of Nora, he slips out of his room, past his friend's closed door, and down the softly bright hallway. As he descends the spiral staircase, he realizes he forgot to look at the time. I'll look at the kitchen clock, he thinks. Yawning, he struts into the kitchen, unaware that Nora and her brother are already awake. As he enters the room they silence themselves from their hushed conversation and look up, both devoid of expression.

"Okay, then," Liam mumbles to himself. "So I'm the bad guy now." Glaring at Nora, he opens the pantry and walks in, searching for cereal or oatmeal. Anything, really. Just something to do to look busy to Nora.

Picking out his favorite—Lucky Charms—of the three cereals provided by Eli, he closes the pantry door behind him and sets the box on the counter. He extracts a carton of milk from the fridge and mixes the two together after searching for several minutes for a bowl. Why is it so hard to figure out everyone's kitchen? he thinks irritably.

Stomping to the kitchen table in a worse mood than ever, he slams his bowl and spoon down on the table and sits down. The room is silent save for the clinking of his spoon against the bowl. Twenty minutes crawls by as Liam takes his time. I will not be disrupted from my breakfast by Nora. I will not. Scraping his bowl clean and rudely drinking the extra milk, he pushes his chair back and stands up. He rinses his dishes and slams them in the dishwasher.

He prepares to make his exit. He turns to Nora and Eli and nods politely, then whirls around, his bathrobe flapping sassily in his wake. Liam clomps up the stairs in a huff, his slippers echoing softly on the wooden floors. I need a shower. Nearing the end of the hall, he turns left into his room and makes for the bathroom.

After stepping out of the shower, hair wet and fingers wrinkly, Liam dresses himself in a white muscle tee and skinny jeans. He completes his new hipster look with a maroon beanie and his gray Converse. He sighs. Abigail used to love the way I looked in beanies. Realizing that he is heading toward nostalgia and sentimentality—"mushy stuff"—he reigns himself in. Well, not anymore she doesn't. Stepping out of his bathroom, Liam walks into his bedroom unprepared for the sight.

Nora rests on his bed glumly, a look of general dislike obscuring her face. Liam stumbles over the laundry basket in surprise, but regains his composure. Well, that was embarrassing. So much for my cool act. Nora doesn't laugh. Not even an itty bitty giggle. Instead, she begins speaking in a monotone.

"I'm going to Salem, Oregon. That's where Piper lives, remember? I'm driving down there to catch her and hopefully put her in prison. You can come or you can go home. It doesn't matter to me." After finishing her obviously rehearsed speech, she stands up, stiff as a stick, and walks out of the room without ever looking at her friend. Liam hovers by the bathroom door, numb from her cold hatred. The clock ticks. Liam's head swims.