flames | The Lost Boys (1987) | revised

| SEVEN |

My room was an utter wreck. It looked as if I had been dragged out of my bed forcefully, which I probably had. My windows were half-way open, my desk had everything that was previously on it pushed onto the floor, and my blankets and pillows were everywhere. I gingerly placed everything where it was supposed to be, only halfway cleaning, before making my way over to my closet. Then, I backed up and poked my head out of my bedroom door.

"Are we staying here tonight or going out?" I questioned loudly.

"Whatever you want to do," Paul yelled back up.

I didn't really want to leave. My ankle was killing me from just walking around the house. I couldn't imagine how bad it would be if I went out to the boardwalk. So, since we wouldn't be going anywhere, I threw on a cropped tank top that was barely bigger than my bra, some sweatpants, and socks.

Then, I moved to the bathroom with the jars in my hands. The first one I opened was a thick liquid, like a milkshake, and the color of blood. It was also incredibly cold as I slathered it onto my cuts and scrapes. This was the reason I had worn such a small top, putting fabric on top of these didn't feel very good. I had learned that last night. The other jar had a paste that had the consistency of mud and a blue tint to the grey mixture. After I had everything slathered on, I stood, looking at myself in the mirror. I looked wrecked.

I washed off my hands and closed off the jars, leaving them by the sink, and I made my way back downstairs. "Nobody look at my tummy," I declared as I entered the living room where they were, feeling extremely self-conscious of my chubbiness as soon I saw them.

"I'm looking," Marko replied instantly from where he stood by the fireplace. Dwayne smacked him upside the head, and he grumbled to himself about how it was unfair.

"I figured we could stay here since my family's not supposed to be home until tomorrow." I walked over to the couch where Paul was sitting and ran my hands through his hair. Well, as much as I could considering it was teased to high hell. "We can cook or watch TV or play games."

"What would we cook?" Paul asked, leaning his head into my hands.

"I'd have to look," I said simply, walking towards the kitchen. I could hear the boys following me after a moment, their boots extremely loud against the wood flooring. The kitchen was just as decorated with plants as the rest of the house, and I wondered how they were still thriving since nobody had watered them for the past few days.

After searching through the fridge and her many cabinets, I decided that she had way more than I had expected. I feel like I could make just about anything if I wanted to. "Well, what do you boys want to eat?" I turned back to them to see Marko sitting on the counter with Paul between his legs. Dwayne was tucked away in a corner and David was near him, messing with a cigarette. "Give me a category and I'll work from there." I paused for a moment. "We have a lot of ingredients for Italian food if you want that."

"Yes," Paul yelled in response while the rest of the boys nodded.

Well, that dwindled the options down a bit. After going through her large selection of pasta and asking the boys if there was anything they specifically didn't want to eat - there wasn't -, I decided on lasagna because it was something that would take a bit of work but not too much, and it was a recipe I knew off the back of my hand. Plus, it meant I could get the boys to help out.

The kitchen fell into an almost silence as everyone went to work. I put Dwayne to mincing fresh herbs that I stole from the many plants around the house and David to dicing garlic and onions. It was mainly because I didn't trust the other two not to hurt themselves with knives, but I could also tell that David was getting antsy with nothing to do with his hands, and I had a sneaking suspicion that Dwayne knew how to cook already. Marko was put to work browning the meat, and Paul was my soldier on the ground. My foot was beginning to kill me again, so I stayed seated on the counter, telling Paul what to grab me and where I believed it would be so I could make a cheese mixture.