𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

Chapter Three

Apparently, Nicole was lying a bit when she said hanging out with Tiegan would be a one time thing. We don't hang out with her EVERY recess, but too many of them for my taste and liking.

First, we try to find fish in puddles. Ridiculous. Then, we try to climb one of the sapling trees the school just bought. Ridiculous. Next, we do a race, but we have to pretend we're horses the whole way. Ridiculous, ridiculous, RIDICULOUS!

Honestly, how can my friends not see how weird Tiegan and her games are?  It's like I'm the only one who isn't completely oblivious to her "uniqueness". (Unique is just another word for weird in my opinion.)

And whenever I tell them what I think of her, they either laugh, (Ava), do an over dramatic eye roll, (Lillian), or sigh in disappointment that I still don't like Tiegan. (Nicole). 

So the only people I can complain to about her and ask advice from are my family members and Owen. Except I feel a bit uncomfortable talking to Owen about my problems. It's like our conversations only consist of snipes at each other and sarcastic comments.

So I decide to talk to Austin.
I stomp up the stairs and knock on the door to his room. I can hear him throwing his ball at the door inside. He doesn't hear me at first, so I knock louder.

"Read the sign!" He hollers.

I step back and see that there's a paper pinned to his door. I squint to decipher the scrawled words. In messy handwriting, it says: To enter, you must scream this sentence at the top of your lungs: Austin is better than Talia!

"I am SO not saying that." I grunt.

"Now let me in, buddy, or things are about to get bad for you."

I crack my knuckles threateningly so he can hear it even on the other side of the door.

"I'm not scared of you!" He yells, which is hilarious, since his voice ends high pitched, which proves that he obviously is scared.

I stifle a laugh and let myself in.

I shudder at how unorganized his room is. My room isn't that tidy either, but it's certainly better than this. Dirty clothes are strewn across the floor. USED (Ew) tissues litter his unmade bed. And his fake bugs are everywhere. If this is how every boy's room is, then when I get married, me and my husband will have separate rooms. 

And there's my little brother, standing in the middle of the chaos, a dirt covered ball in his hands.

Maybe he isn't the right person to ask for advice.

But I'm already here, so I decide what's the harm in trying?

I shove some tissues over and sit down on his bed. I watch him throw the ball for a bit as he tries to ignore me.

"I want to ask you something."

"What?" He demands aggressively.

"Jeez. I barely said anything yet."

"Fine. What is it?"

He smiles a huge, fake, cheesy, giant smile which I think is supposed to be his polite smile.

"Never mind, doofus."

"You're the doofus."

"Superb comeback."

I give up on talking to Austin. Besides, he's Austin. What does he know?

***

When I wake up the next morning, I've completely forgotten what day it is until Austin bursts into my room singing Christmas tunes with Halloween lyrics.