The Journey[BoyxBoy]

Chapter Five:

Spencer's P.O.V.

"This is your room." Grandma said, opening the door. I walked in. Around me was a dated bedroom, more fitted for an elderly lady then for me but I couldn't complain. It was much nicer than my old room. There was a full size bed with a homemade floral quilt. On either side were two matching oak night stands. Sitting on each one, were two golden lamps with white shades. Facing the bed was a large oak dresser that had more than enough room for my weeks' worth of clothes. To top it off there  were little lace doilies. "Next weekend we will get you more stuff to make your room more appropriate." I didn't want them spending more money on me. This was only until high school ended. I could deal with the old lady room for two years.

"It's fine." I tried to reassure them. "We don't have to."

"Son, this looks like an old lady's room." Grandpa said, with a slight smile. "No boy wants that." Half a smile formed on my lips.

"Thanks." I said, again. They all just gave me a smile in return.

"We'll leave you to unpack in peace." Grandpa said, thinking that I wanted to be alone. I wasn't sure if he was right.

"Yeah, Spencer, just holler if you need something. We'll be in the store." Grandma said, unsure if she wanted to leave. I nodded, telling her it was alright. They all turned to leave and then I was alone. I sighed, falling on to the bed. It was comfortable, almost like a cloud. I didn't know if I was ever going to get up but I couldn't stay here forever as nice as it sounded though. Slowly I got up, my muscles stiffening and I crawled over to my bag. There wasn't much to unpack. All my clothes were dirty. I would have to ask Grandma if I could do laundry tonight. I laid my glove down on the dresser, smiling down at it. Baseball was everything to me. It gave me hope. Nobody could ever take that away from me. Hopefully I would be putting it to good use soon.

I put my pocket knife in the drawer of one of the night stands. I shudder as the thought of that night reared into mind. That night would go with me to the grave. Never before had I ever gotten violent with another person. I never wanted to again. It made me like my father and that wasn't an option. He was a terrible person. I couldn't be like him. That had to be the top of my list for my goals in life. It didn't matter if I had the great career or family if all I did was abuse them.
I wondered what had happened to those two since that night. Were they still out there, sleeping on the streets? Just trying to survive anyway they could. I was lucky. I only experienced that life for a short period. What if they had no family to turn to like I did? Were they going to live like that forever?

"Hey." Aunt Niccole said, scaring me out of my internal train of thoughts. I jumped back, turning towards her. "Sorry I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's fine." I said, embarrassed.

"Alright. Would you like some company?" Aunt Niccole asked, taking another step into my room.

Umm...sure." I said. "Sit down, if you'd like?" I gestured to the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed. For a couple of minutes, there was dead silence. I had no idea what to say. What do you say in this situation? There was hardly a protocol to follow.

"You play baseball?" Aunt Niccole asked, looking at my catcher's mitt.

"Yes, ma'am. I catch." I said, proudly.

"I heard the baseball team needs a catcher this year." She commented. I smiled bigger this time but said nothing. We grew silent again. My smile faded quickly to my usual frown.

"How are you?" Aunt Niccole asked, breaking the ice again. What an odd question? We both knew the answer to that and we both know that I was going to lie.