The Babysitter

Chapter Two: Gag

*Picture of Adlie's room above, picture of Zach below*

Chapter Two: Gag

After Karlyn and my mom stopped talking - which wasn't until the truck with all our belongings arrived - the move went quickly and easily. The movers had broken apart my bed frame before the move and put it back together quickly. With that, my only fear was eased. Of course, our house is stocked full of boxes and plastic wrap furniture but we enjoyed a nice dip in our pool and a pizza dinner. My mom admitted she'd ordered from a place Lucas wanted me to try, as well as his favorite - chicken parm pizza with stuffed crust.

I got to say, the kid knows good pizza.

Now, I sit in my room. Freshly showered and scrolling through Instagram at my friends in France. I stop at an image and can't scroll away. It's a very good friend of mine, Danae. She sits in a cafe we would go to often, as it wasn't a far walk from our school or homes. Sitting with her is her mother and a man. The man is older, hand intertwined with her mothers. I quickly turn off my phone and burrow myself deeper into my olive green blankets.

I didn't need to see that. I didn't want to see that. 

Sitting up, I rise out of bed to place my phone on its charger and blow out my candles. A flip of the lights switch, and the lights in my room go dim minus the peaceful, cerulean glow from the pool lights peeking in from the large window adjacent to my bed. 

Before sleep overtakes me, I'm plagued by the thoughts of what I've left behind in France, a little boy playing basketball, and his arrogant, tattooed older brother.

~~~

"Adlie! Wake up! I brought McDonald's!" my mother calls.

I groan, sitting up and pulling a small chunk of hair from my lips. I've always been an easy waker. My sleep is deep, sometimes I dream and sometimes not, but I wake as though I'd never visited a blissful comatose state.

I step down and pull my suitcase from under my bed. I choose simple athletic shorts and a white tee to wear as I tie my hair in a haphazard messy bun. No one to impress might as well be comfortable. "Adlie?!" my mother calls again up my steps. "I'm coming, one second!" I yell back. I was never a fan of coffee, but a medium orange juice sits beside a sausage McBuiscit and hashbrown.

"Thank you," I sigh as she sits down beside me with hotcakes, bacon, and an orange juice of her own.

"So," she says while buttering her sweet meal. "Today, we should unpack for the most part so we don't have to do it later. We can go shopping for what we don't have tomorrow. We'll get your school supplies, as well. We'll relearn the town in that time and on Friday, Karlyn's invited us to a neighborhood end-of-summer-barbecue! The hosts live a few doors down to the right and are lovely people."

"You've already met them?" I state though it's meant as a question.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. They were out for a stroll this morning as I was leaving to get our food. They have kids your age actually! Twins, Shae and Spencer. Think you'll get along swimmingly."

I hum, taking a satisfying bite out of my breakfast sandwich. I glance at my mom and think of the image of the man with Danae. It's cool how even a mix I am of her and . . . him. My mother is Filipino and the man Irish. I have my mother's dark hair, tan skin, and height - but I have the man's hazel eyes, cheekbones, and freckles. I used to love that. Now I wish there was less of him in me.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" my mom asks gently.

I jump a little, surprised. Are my thoughts that easy to see on my face? "Yeah," I smile, hoping the slight white lie isn't forced-sounding, "Why?"

"Well . . . your father - " Gag  " - had a similar look to what you just had when he was thinking. And usually, it wasn't always happy thoughts."

"Oh . . . " I mumble, quickly stuffing my mouth with hash brown. 

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" she asks, reaching out and lightly holding my hand. I swallow the hash brown, it feeling much thicker in my throat than before. I don't look up at her, I know some of my emotions will reveal themselves if I meet her eyes. She was always good at knowing what my father and I were thinking, just like now.

"I'm mad at him," I admit. "And Danae posted a picture yesterday - "

"I understand," she interrupts, giving my hand a tight squeeze, prompting me to meet her eyes. Her eyes are dark and a little teary. Both of our hearts are freshly cut. Scars take a long time to form and it's going to be a long time before we're truly happy. But I have her and she has me. Perhaps, because of that, we'll be okay.