Welcome To The Family

Chapter Five

Babe erupts from his slumber out of breath. "What a weird dream," climbing out of bed, he scoops the crust out of his eyes. "Was it a dream?" He makes his way downstairs. "Must be, lights don't follow you. God, I must be going crazy. I'm talking to myself so probably." Walking into the kitchen, the smell of bacon hypnotizes him. On the island, a litter of burnt bacon sits on a stack of paper towels. His taste test ends in him spitting out the chewed bits into the bathroom toilet.

CREAK.

He flushes his rejected bacon bits down the pipeline. Miss Hendricks cautiously moves out from behind the black square door. She carefully closes the door behind her.

"Morning. What's in there?" Asks Babe.

She jumps and covers a red blotch on her shirt, "Oh, good morning. You startled me. It's just my art studio." She locks it quickly.

He takes a step forward, "Can I take a look?"

"NO!" She blocks the door. He moves backward. "Sorry, I'm very insecure about my art." She looks down at her stain. "I should go clean up." She scurries down the hall. "Your new phone is on the counter, along with some freshly cooked bacon." She calls back before heading up the stairs.

He watches her rush up the stairs. "Ok, thanks!" That was weird.

In the kitchen, he inspects the cabinet from his dreams to his shock; it's arranged exactly how he dreamt. A shake of the snack bar box confirms it's emptiness. He gazes at the light bulbs with a clenched jaw, and then to the black square door.

In a fresh set of clothes, Miss Hendricks rushes through the kitchen. She holds a bottle of wine. "Where are you off to?" Babe asks, pretending to enjoy a burnt slice of bacon.

"I've got some errands to run. Then I must attend a paint and wine party."

"Oh, okay." He puts the bacon down.

She stops and settles on the counter in front of him. "Sorry we haven't been able to do anything. My first days as a mom, and I'm already abandoning you." She shakes her head.

"It's fine. My Xbox keeps me company."

"How about I make it up to you tomorrow, and we spend the whole day fishing?"

"Sure, I'd like that."

"Fantastic. I can't wait, it's been too long since I had a fishing partner." She sets the bottle of wine on the table. "And not to make you my errand boy, but can you bring this to the neighbors later? I stole a bottle a while back and thought I should replace it."

"I don't mind, just tell me which house."

Most of Babe's day was filled with video games and exploring the empty house. The strangest thing to him was most of the doors in the house are locked. The only unlocked ones are his bedroom and the bathrooms. He feels like Miss Hendrick has something to hide, but what is beyond him. He began to miss the foster home. This house was too empty and quiet. He even started to miss Beckett. At least things were exciting when the prick was around. He would have never guessed being adopted would turn out to be incredibly dull. Little orphan Annie set the bar too high.

Bored with video games and exploring the house, Babe decides he should run his errand. He grabs the bottle of wine and inspects the sticky note stuck on the label. "Black house next door, you can't miss it." The letter was correct. The house stands out from every other house on the block. All the neighborhood homes are the same dull eggshell color, the same design except this masterpiece. This house was square and modern painted black with gold trimming. It intimidated Babe.

Nevertheless, he approached the door. He is greeted by a door knocker that takes the shape of a gold grinning goat. He knocks away.

A few moments later, the door opens. "Hi, Miss Hendricks asked me to--" He looks up, and he makes eye contact with a young woman his age with a sharpie tucked behind her ear. Since he's never been great at talking to women, his cheeks rosy up from awkwardness. "Sorry, I--"

She tosses her blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm hot, I get it. You're not too bad yourself, I mean besides the ginger hair." She shifts her weight on to the door frame.

"Oh."

"I'm kidding, have you ever flirted before." He begins to reply, but she cuts him off. "Don't answer. I feel like I know the answer." The sarcasm radiates off her intensely.

His hands begin to turn into a sweat waterpark. "Anyway, I'm Miss Hendricks' adopted son, and she asked me to drop off this wine to your parents."

"Great, thanks." She takes the bottle and closes the door.

He stares at the grinning goat that seems to taunt him for not being able to talk to a girl. The door swings open.

"Sorry, I'm kidding. Want to come in and drink this?" She's not too sure how to flirt either.

"Uh, I'm 17."

She sighs. "So what, I'm 18." She waits for a beat and rolls her eyes. "If you change your mind." She uncaps the sharpie from her ear and uses his arm as a sticky note.

"Are you always this straight forward." He looks at the string of numbers on his arm.

"Text me and find out. Thanks for the wine." She winks and closes the door.

"It's for your parents." He inspects his arm again.

Literal Girl Next Door

555-433-4321

He drops his arm, realizing he'll probably never text her. She's a bit too straight forward, way too pretty, and he's never been the type to put himself out there.

Back in the house, he finds himself opening another gift-wrapped present on the kitchen table. Inside he finds a clunky flip phone. He flips it open and then closes it. While walking to his house, he thinks what the hell and plugs in the number. He creates a contact 'cute weird girl next door' and decides to build up the courage to text her later.

Upstairs in the master bathroom, an attempt is made to scrub the ink off his arm using toilet paper. As the paper disintegrates with water and friction, he realizes it wasn't one of his best ideas. He notices the mirror is the door to a cabinet and quickly pops it open. Among the ordinary cabinet is a bottle of Isopropyl alcohol. Score. Ma would often use it to remove the dick drawings Beckett left on his forehead while he was sleeping. With assistance from a stray washcloth and the rubbing alcohol, he successfully removes the ink. He places the bottle back into the cabinet and slowly closes the mirror. In the mirror, a red object catches his eye that makes his heart skip a beat. His shoulders drop as he realizes it's just a book and not a bloodthirsty demon. He knows that's preposterous; he blames it on the new home anxiety. He hopes and assumes the feeling will disappear with time as he gets more comfortable in the strange house.

He moves over to the book. Without looking at the title, he already knows which book it is—the Dangerous Book For Boys. When you're an orphan without a father figure, a book that tells you everything on how to prepare you for manhood does a better job than any alcoholic stepdad can. Taking a seat on the toilet, he opens the book to the first page. Written on the inside cover is 'To Noah, from Mom." Flipping through the pages, he sees a multitude of notes in the margins. He lowers the book, feeling like it's an invasion of privacy and catches sight of a piece of paper pinched between the foundation of the tub. Without hesitation, he removes the piece of paper. A tile slips out of the foundation. He catches it before it hits the ground. Opening up the article reveals absolutely nothing. He folds the blank slip up and sets it aside. Lowering himself on his knees gives him a better view of the inside. It's mostly just copper piping and dust except for a black and gold box, tucked away behind the pipes. Something in his gut says not to open it. He mistakes the warning for his nerves of the new home. After all, it's unlikely a box in a secret compartment would contain uncomfortable truths. He opens the lid.