The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Birthday Dinner

RILEY

BUSINESS WAS FLOURISHING at the Maple Diner. I bet that if every local person in town was like my Mom, their wealth would have skyrocketed beyond the simple prosperity they sat on. She was raving over the warm, old-school decor which was a mix-mash of marooned booths, shiny hardwood floors and menu chalkboards with artistic scrawling. The cutlery grips were finely carved to give a handmade feel, and Mom just couldn't stop appreciating it.

"Oh, this is so cute!" she bubbled over the lively chatter, blond strands of hair escaping her bun. She sipped on her espresso, eyeing the interior again and staring out the wide windows. "It almost feels like home away from home, even though our house didn't look anything like this."

She smiled and Dad and I forced a similar response. I remembered our beach house with its white-washed walls, the unimaginable number of windows and sliding glass doors leading to wooden decks. The shore was only a few running steps from my living room, and the little bell some places had to alert people of an entry, well we had suspended seashells. I'd collected those with Mom and painted over them when I was eight.

Today, we were exactly ten years later.

My nostalgia was perfectly justified, and I was totally letting myself reflect on my whole life. Recently, I felt like I couldn't see where I was walking, like a blindfold had been bound around my eyes. Maybe just for a moment, I could put aside the fact that I had to blink twice when I passed by Adam or Ethan's locker. I'd see them staring back at me, looking so real I'd expect a kid to bump into them.

Mom tsked. "Put that thing away, honey."

I stared up from my phone, pushing back a scowl. The hurt it caused me was finally diminishing, and it had been less intense in the past days. I was still surprised that I could hold it in my palms and tap on it without wanting to throw it across the room. Right after we'd ordered our food, it buzzed in my pocket. I had checked only to see what the deal was and read Luc's ID on my screen.

Technically, his name in my contacts was D-bag, a dub I'd picked when we first exchanged our numbers.

But if he texted me, I wanted to make sure it was nothing serious. For the entire week, we hadn't spotted any vans or prowling NIO agents with no additional trouble with Lauren. It seemed that Luc's warning had worked, and that things came to a standstill. I'd pulled the phone out, but it was just him asking if I had plans for tomorrow.

Dad had glanced down and noticed that I was speaking to someone, but he didn't recognize the alias. I rushed to answer him and be done with it when I ended up staring at another contact. They hadn't been active in... almost two months? 

That supposed tech genius who not even Micheal could track, that person who had warned us about all that was going on, sending out crypted messages like crumbs. God, I wish they could help now, but I didn't know why they went silent.

In my peripheral vision, the waiter approached the table with our orders. The scent of cooked tomatoes, buttered bread and meat enveloped our booth. Mom repeated what she said, and Dad gave me an admonishing nudge until I hurriedly stowed my phone away.

For my birthday, my parents both decided to get together and act civil, despite their bunch of disagreements. I was glad about that, because some years I'd have no other choice but to split my birthday in two. Other times, Dad was overseas with the military, but he'd always manage to call me on videochat.

I'd specifically asked them not to organize anything extravagant. I didn't feel like partying and they knew that. So here we were, having dinner at a restaurant, and I won a gift card with bonus cash from Suzan.