Rebuilt

Chapter 19

Morris frowned, "watch ya language little brother."

Rolling his eyes, Oscar grabbed my hand and led me to his room, slamming the door shut he locked the door. I looked at the lock, puzzled. Noticing my puzzled glance Oscar put his hand on my shoulder, "don't worry, it's just so Morris won't barge in here."

"Ah," I say. "You'se seem like such a lovely family." I run my hand back and forth across the fuzzy blanket, mesmerized as it changes from a lighter shade of blue to a darker one. Oscar pops his head back in from the bathroom.

"Yeah, we're all full of love here," shaking his head he walks over to a small desk. Opening a drawer he pulls out a newspaper. He tosses it to me and sits down next to me. Oscar sighs, "okay, where to start." Flipping through the paper, he finds a small section about the recent paper sales.

I point at the graph, "when is this from? The sales have been on a non-stop decline."

Folding back to the front, Oscar points at a date, "do you know what that says?"

Staring at the letters, I furrow my eyebrows, I didn't see anything, nothing but a blurry blob of numbers and letters printed on the paper. I shake my head. "No. I'se got no clue."

"That's fine," Oscar reassures. "That's what I'm here for. I'm goin' to help you." He points at the paper. "That's the date, when the paper was published... June 30, 1899. That was right before the strike," he adds.

I repeat the date, "how'd you get that from" I point at the date, "that?"

"Do you know the alphabet?"

"No...?"

Oscar runs through the alphabet, saying it once, then making me repeat it. Stoping when he gets the the letters "J", "U", "N", and "E." "That's how you spell June, J-U-N-E. Can you say it?"

"June," I say simply. "What month is it now?"

"It's end of September, the first day of October is in a couple of days." He goes through the alphabet again, spelling out "September" and "October" making me do the same. He runs through the rest of the months in order. "What month were you born? Do you know?"

"We'se didn't celebrate birthdays in the refuge," we celebrated nothing in the refuge. Unless someone successfully escaped, then we'd all hope they would come back and rescue us all. They never did. If anything they got thrown back in a few days later.

Oscar frowns, knowing he can never sympathize with me. "How long were you in there?"

I count in my head, "a little over 10 years."

"Wha-what? Why?"

"It's a long story," Oscar opened his mouth. "I'se don't want to talk about it, not yet."

"That's fine, how old are you?"

"17," I say. "I think."

Laughing Oscar gives me a hug, "I'm 18, Morris is 19." Releasing me from the hug he give me the newspaper. "Find a word in the pape that you think you can say."

    Taking the paper I put it close to my face, squinting, trying to read the tiny letters. "I'se can't see any off the letters." Oscar pushes the paper farther away from my face.

    "What about now?"

    Nodding I flip through the paper, stopping at a word I recognized. Pointing, I say it. "Refuge. The pape says refuge."

    Oscar nods, "yes, it does." Standing, he walks over to a window, "it's getting late, we'se should probably head to bed."

    I stand, "I guess I'll start walking back to the lodge house."

    "No, you're staying here with me tonight, I don't trust Morris enough to leave you alone, and Elmer still isn't cooled off all the way. You take the bed, I'll take the chair thing," he scratches the back of his neck. "I don't really know what it is, but I'm staying in here with you."

    I sit back down on the bed, I can practically hear it calling my name, I'm so tired... "I'll get ya sheets dirty."

    Oscar scoffs, "I don't care about dirty sheets... I care about you, and your health." He points at the bed. "So go to bed."

    We both laugh as I struggle to untuck the blankets from underneath the mattress, laying down I groan at the comfort, comparing the lodge house to the refuge was one thing.  But this, this, is luxury.  It was as if I was laying on something blessed by God himself.

Immediately, I feel myself lulling out of reality.  Oscar snaps his fingers, "wait, I need to ask you something."

Sitting up I look at Oscar, "wat?"

"Are you going to sleep in those clothes," he laughs.  "I have a tank top, you can wear it tonight if you want it?"

I moan, "I'se could have been asleep by now, Delancey.  Give me the damn tank top."

Tsking Oscar grabbed the tank top out of a drawer.  "You kiss your motha with that mouth?"

I shallowly, "you know I ain't got no motha."  I open my hand and Oscar throws me the tank top.  Peeling off the layers of clothing, I pull the top over my head.  Pulling the covers over my head, I mutter.  "G'night Oscar."

The dim lights flicker out, Oscar places a hand on my shoulder.  "Night, Blades."

And just like the lights, I'm out like a light.

AN: I think I like writing with Oscar too much :) lol