Blue Letter Night

3. Beth has been body checked

After Mason and I's oh so happy reunion (sarcasm. A LOT of sarcasm) we went separate ways to bring the boxes up to the attic. If we would see each other he would either glare or avoid eye contact and try to get to the attic before me. I, like I said I would, was trying the be mature and not retaliate. Robert wasn't far behind us when Mason bodychecked me into the wall with his box so he could rush into the attic first. I made sure to cuss him out under my breath.

"What was that Beth?" He plastered on a innocent smile and tone.

I kept my mouth clamped shut and hopes that Mason would give up, but that is not Mason Carter's style.

"Come on, tell me," his tone was prompting because he was cocky and figured I wouldn't repeat the string of cuss words I had said in from of his Dad. And he was right.

"Just that every time you open your damn mouth it gives me an instant head ache," I told him politely.

If he was going to be a jerk than it was okay to be a little bit of a jerk back, right? An eye for an eye? It seemed justified when Robert stifled a laugh with a cough.

"The dust up here is thick, huh?" He fake cleared his throat.

"Right, dust. More like a thick coat of betrayal," Mason mumbled.

"Right, well, that seems to be the last of the boxes, so let's eat," Robert announced. Mason huffed and walked downstairs.

"Don't mind him," he told me, "he gets crabby when he's hungry," I chuckled.

"I'm not crabby!" Mason called over his shoulder.

"Point taken," I replied.

At the table, I took a seat as far away from Mason, and sat next to Anne. My only goal was to make it to the end of the meal the slip away to my room with Anne. She was going to want an update when we went to bed and we could be alone. Thats when we could escape Max momentarily. As much as I loved him, Max was a bit of a snoop with a big mouth. He also thought Mason was like a cool big brother, and I was not going to have Max tell Mason that Anne and I were talking about him, his ego was already so inflated any bigger and his head would pop.

Suddenly Mason coughed into the coke he was drinking. I was pretty sure Macy kicked him from under the table.

"Right, well, how was everyone's school year," he tried. His mom seemed satisfied sense he didn't flinch from an under the table kick.

"Awesome!" Max replied excitedly. Max was a strange thirteen year old. It had been clear from a young age he was a prodigy. His room was scattered with enclosures filled with pet bugs, snakes, and whatever else he could convince his mom to let him have. Academic decathlon and science trophies were muddled in amongst his pets and random papers with science equations. It was no surprise he had an eventful school year to talk about. He was about to pass out from the run on sentence about his win at the high school level science fair. Max could talk forever if you let him, but we only let him have to the end of the meal. It would've been so easy— just slip away when everyone was distracted with cleaning up.

"So what's the plan?" Machelle asked Robert and Macy. I was slowly scooting my chair back, carful not to make any noise.

"We figured we'd head back to pick up more of our stuff tomorrow. We'll make a trip about once a week so the travel isn't so constant," Macy informed us. That meant after tomorrow, two of three people who could keep the inevitable arguments between Mason and I under control, would be gone, and Machelle had to go to work at the animal hospital in town.

"Machelle you need to show us the house. You've done so much sense I last saw it," Macy insisted. Machelle beamed. She felt one of her greatest accomplishments was fixing up the house. It was two years before they took me in when my mom convinced Machelle to get the house sense it was, after all, her dream house. With the help of my Mom and Macy— and Robert who watched the toddlers— they fixed up the giant Victorian style house. They finally got it in living conditions about six months later. It was a gorgeous house with turrets, brick detailing, and a rich brown covering the outside of the house. It was sort of like their pet project. Machelle was constantly adding to it.

"Beth even did some work too," Machelle inserted me into the conversation just when I thought I could slip away with minimal attention. I mean we had a literal boy genius at the table who absorbed most of the attention so I figured I was in the clear.

"Really? What additions did you make?" Macy was eager to know, partly because she had a big connection to the house and spent years working on it, and partly because my Mom worked on it with them, so it was sort of a legacy situation.

"Oh, you know, just a few paintings on the walls Machelle let me do," I tried to underplay it so i wouldn't have to go with them when Machelle gave them a tour. It was absolutely horrible when Machelle wanted to show people my art. I appreciated her support and what not, but sometime she was a little over zealous. Having people react to my art in front of me is up there on the horribleness scale right next to watching a video of myself talking.

"Oh my goodness!" Macy chirped excitedly.

Crap. I knew it was over when Macy's voice reached an octave only dogs should be able to hear. I was going to be dragged on this house tour and have to spend even more time with Mason and have to witness everyone witnessing my paintings. "You have to show us,"

Masons glass might as well have shattered in his hand he was gripping it so tightly. Obviously he was not pleased either. I was trying to spend as little time with Mason as humanly possible, avoid him, but our parents mission to make us at least tolerate each other, was making that near impossible. Here's hoping they would eventually decide we could do this on our own, so long as Mason was cooperative. Of course I had a sneaking suspicious he wasn't going to be.

"Great," I said, my voice getting higher at the end. This next hour was going to be very uncomfortable.