Chapter Eight - Aaron
For once, Aaron could fill himself up with food at the dinner table. Laura had made something that he could actually eat: pasta. Usually, she made it with chicken yet as he sat at the dinner table with his foster parents, he learnt that she was trying something new.
"Aaron, dear, this is the first time I've seen you eat at the table without making a fuss," his mum gasped, "please do slow down, there's plenty more."
Regardless of what she said, Aaron continued to scoff down the pasta.
"Aaron, did you hear what your mum said?" His dad questioned. Aaron began to slow down, not because he was threatened by his foster dad but because he referred to Laura as his mother. Although he wanted to say something, he thought it best to keep quiet and not anger his foster dad any longer.
"Good, maybe now we can talk about this competition thing," he continued.
Keeping his head down, Aaron chose to speak up, "what about it?"
His foster parents were no strangers to his musical side, especially with Aaron's need for playing Bastille at seven every morning. They were the ones who bought him his very first guitar as a young boy, in the hopes of making him speak, as back then, he was uncomfortable with them.
"It's good that you're showcasing your talent," his dad said, playing around with his food, "but make sure that it doesn't affect your school work. You have the potential to be an A* student and I don't want you throwing that chance away."
"I know, Jo - Dad," Aaron corrected himself as he spoke. His foster parents hated it when he referred to them by their first names and as a result, he had become accustomed to calling them 'mum' and 'dad' in his own head. "I don't plan to."
His dad lifted up his fork, eyeing Aaron as he softly bit into the pasta. Like a rubber ball, it bounced back into place, with only a small bite removed.
"Good," he replied.
During the rest of dinner, Aaron sat in silence. The occasional chatter of jobs and promotions filled the air, which annoyed him since it seemed to be the only subject his parents would talk about. The only time he was actually at the table to them was whenever he was in trouble. However, it didn't really bother him. They weren't really his parents, so he felt no need to grab their attention.
He got up to put a second batch of dinner in his plate, daydreaming about the contest. There wasn't going to be a contest without a lead singer and unfortunately, he couldn't get Cat to agree. With her, their band would be more edgy and upbeat. Without her, they didn't stand out; they were just another plastic copy of All Time Low and The Script. They needed Cat.
Henry had phoned him before, asking him to come to dinner. It was then that he confessed about asking Cat to sing for them and it turned out that the same idea had crossed Henry's mind.
"...What was her name, Aaron? Catherine?..." His foster mum's sudden change of topic brought him back to life, as he heard her name.
"Cat," he corrected, remembering how much she hated her full name, "It's Cat."
Almost on cue, his dad began to laugh, "Cat! What kind of name is that?"
"It's short for Catherine," Aaron told him. The last thing he needed was his dad to make fun of her. "She's Henry's sister."
Suddenly, his dad stopped laughing and replaced his mocking tone with a pitiful one.
"Oh, her."
That was everyone's reaction to Cat, Aaron realised. At school, they ignored her or made fun of her behind her back. She didn't ever see but from the way she always kept her head down, Aaron knew that she was aware of the awkward situation she was put in. Everyone seemed to pity her, treat her as though she needed help when in fact, she rarely did.
