Little Rooms

Chapter 15

I shattered my mother's hopes and dreams for her daughter's big night with one sentence.

"Someone broke into Joe's house and killed his brother."

She dropped the spoonful of Wheaties that almost met her lips, metal bouncing off the counter and onto Trent's head. He got up and started licking it.

"WHAT?"

"I don't know anything else, mama. They came and got Joe during the dance. I drove up with Jessica and the neighborhood was blocked-off."

My father appeared in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. "Anyone seen my sweatpants?"

I swallowed hard, twisting a banana peel between my fingers, crushing every yellow fiber.

"Did you hear about what happened to Joe?" My mother stood up and curved her hand around her hip.

"Who's Joe?"

"Nicole's boyfriend, dear. His brother was killed last night. In his home."

She rolled her eyes and threw both hands in the air just as Cassie shuffled in, her saggy black nightgown failing to cover her plush white knees.

My father sat down, his face pale and taught. He tried to rub his distress away with his hand, but needed coffee and went to get some.

"What's this about Joe?" Cassie sat down next to me at the counter, her stale breath becoming even more pungent with coffee.

"His brother was murdered last night. At home." My mother was doing her usual job as an undercover reporter for the National Enquirer.

"Oh God." Cassie put down her coffee and threw her arms around me. If I hadn't been so tired, I'd swear she was going soft.

"I don't know much." I hoped Jessica would call again, but then again I didn't want her to.

"Is it in the paper?" Cassie sorted through the morning pile of newspaper, plucking the local section from the mess.

"See? Here," she said, pointing to the front page.

Big, bold headline, no photos: Burglary In Gated Community Turns Into Murder

I leaned over Cassie's shoulder and read the story with her. Because Ted was 19, they printed his name. The burglary had taken place in the late evening, when Mr. and Mrs. Martin and their younger son were out. His parents came home to find the house ransacked and their son in the upstairs hallway. Neighbors said they heard nothing.

"Nobody pays any attention to their neighbors up there, anyway. That's too bad," said my mother, slurping her coffee and staring across the room.

I took my coffee out on the patio, the cool air moving through my robe. Trent joined me, taking a leak against the light post before running the perimeter of the yard. A mist of gray clouds lined the sky ceiling, holding in the cold and bringing a sense of sadness to the morning. It was impossible not to feel it.

Cassie came outside and shivered, her bare feet touching concrete, which was a rare occasion. "Nicole, someone's on the phone for you."

"The land line?"

"Yeah. Weird."

I followed her back in and picked up the wall phone, a relic from my parents' past.

"Hello?"

"Nicole Edwards?"

"Yes. This is."

"It's Mrs. Margolies. From school."