Across the Maps

Chapter 18

"Do you really have to have that," I ask, gesturing to the box full of hair products in his hands.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes. "I do. My hair won't always look this great."

"Wow," I stretch out the word. "You think a lot about your hair. What's the big deal? It's messed up half the time anyway."

"But," he interjects. "Even when it's messed up...it still looks good," he shoots me a smile and I roll my eyes again.

"Whatever," I tease playfully and he sets the box into the back of the moving truck that we rented.

"I think there's only a few more things I need to get," he tells me as he steps past me and strides back up the stairs and to his room, well...I guess his old room now.

I saunter up the stairs, stepping up every other stair. I see Cole grabbing the last cardboard box in his arms and then taking one final look around his old room.

It's vacant, all the furniture and everything that was here is gone. A few tacks hang on the walls where posters have been hanging. Some of the paint of the baseboards have been chipped and there is a small stain in the carpet.

"Ready," I ask.

"Just give me a minute," he asks and I nod.

"I'll be outside," I inform him and walk downstairs and outside. Dad is in the truck, typing something in his phone.

"He'll be out in a minute," I inform.

"Okay," Dad says, not taking his eyes off of his phone.

I look up and in the upstairs window I see Cole. His eyes are closed as he holds the box in his hands.

After a few minutes of just standing there with his eyes closed, he leaves the room and heads downstairs.

Cole comes outside, carrying the box, and he sets it in the back of the truck by the other boxes. He opens the passenger door and sits down beside me.

"Let's go," Dad says and then starts the vehicle.

When we get home, I help Cole carry the boxes to his new room, which is just across from mine.

It use to be a storage room, but we didn't really keep anything in it so we decided to let Cole use it.

The room is slightly smaller than mine and it has a large walk in closet and a medium sized bathroom. The walls are a creamy tan and the flooring is tile.

"Do you want me to help you unpack?" I ask.

"No. I'm fine, but thanks."

"Okay," I reply. "I'll be in my room if you need me." I amble across the hall and into my room, gently closing my door.

Licking my lips, I saunter over to my desk and pull out my folder with my story in it. I grab a pencil and plop down in my desk chair, staring at the page where I had let out.

Nothing has come me. Usually writing comes to me quickly, but it's been almost a month since I've written any thing.

I stare at the paper for what seems like hours, but still no ideas of how to end it come to me. Frowning, I let out a sigh and set the paper down. I close my eyes and think of ideas, but they down come, and the little ideas I have, I don't like.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, I shove the paper back into the folder and cram it back into the desk right as someone knocks on the door.

"Come in," I yell.

The door opens slightly and Cole peeks his head in. "Hey," he says, smiling.

"What," I murmur, still frustrated. "Sorry," I apologize.

"It's okay," he shrugs. "So what are you doing?"

"Nothing," I lie, my voice going higher. Please don't notice. Please don't notice. I chant in my head.

"I finished my room," Cole smiles a toothy grin. "Wanna see?"

"Umm..." I say. "Sure. I'd like to see."