tired yet? ||cashby||

Chapter 5

"Alan!" my mom called from the stairwell, forcing me to leave my room. I walked upstairs, actually a little relieved to have a distraction. The way it got in my room sometimes was so stifling and suffocating. I couldn't handle being alone all day.

"Do you wanna come with me to the library?" she asked, lifting her purse over her shoulder. "I've got some books to return, and I figured you could use something to read." She shrugged.

"Okay," I agreed, smiling. It was about time that I get out of the house. It had been 2 days since I'd seen Austin, and I missed him. I missed talking to and seeing people. So we got into the car and drove. I liked going places with my mom sometimes, because she didn't talk to me like I was a disease. She treated me pretty nicely, compared to the rest of my family.

"So," she began, her voice tinted with suspicion, "what's got you in such a good mood lately?" She was asking again, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm just happy that it's summer," I excused, even though she wasn't buying it. My mother hummed in response, letting it go, and we drove the rest of the way just listening to the radio. She let me pick the station, which made me feel really happy. Maybe it was strange that all I needed to make me feel good was a minuscule amount of validation from my own mother, but that was just the way I was.

When we got there, I drifted over to the teens shelf and rifled through their fantasy selection. A book I loved was called 100 Cupboards, and I was hoping they had it, so I could do a little rereading. Reading the same book a bunch of times was weird, but so was wandering the woods at night, so I didn't really think about it too hard. A few whispers came from across the room, and I ignored it.
Other people's conversations were none of my business. But then there were more, and I had to look. Some kids from school were staring at me, and when I saw, they looked away quickly. It couldn't have been more obvious that they were talking about me. Sighing, I just grabbed a few books that looked mildly interesting and walked away. After finding my mom and informing her that we had to leave right away, she nodded in understanding and walked out after checking our stuff out. When we sat in the car, our eyes met in the rear view mirror.

"You know you brought it on yourself, right?" she said softly, and I nodded in shame. We drove all way home in silence.

•••

For a long time, I just sat in my room and stared at the pictures. Maybe, I thought, there would be some sort of answers buried in the past, just staring me in the face from behind that Polaroid paper. And, for a long time, nothing happened. I just missed Austin, and wished he were here. The hours ticked by, and I hadn't left my room. Why should I? No one up there wanted me around. As I tried to repeat happy words in my mind, I heard some rowdy yells, and a bunch of feet tromping down the stairs.

From the start I knew it was Michael. Carefully, I padded over to the door and cracked it, peaking my head through. In the game room, all of his usual friends were messing about, tossing pillows and phones and popcorn at each other. Austin sat up against the wall, watching. His eyes flicked up to where I stood, and he grinned, giving a tiny wave. My body felt warmer, and my stomach filled with tiny, fluttering butterflies. I waved back, and opened my door a little more, motioning for him to one inside. No one else noticed as he quietly snuck away, darting into my room before anyone saw. Quietly, I shut the door, and he hopped up onto my bed. I smiled, watching him sit up against the headboard lean against a pillow that I held to myself every night. There must've been something wrong with me, but I couldn't sleep without hugging a pillow to my body.

It felt like someone was there with me, making sure I was safe. Without a word, I joined him, sitting with my back against the opposite end, so that our feet met a few inches apart in the middle of the mattress. Austin was wearing an old red shirt, advertising some band that I'd never heard of.