• “Reinette,” Mom called from behind me, “who is it?”

    Good question.

    “Um.. uh,” I stuttered like an idiot.

    Closet boy brushed past me.

    “James Secret,” he greeted, giving a sweeping bow.

    Show off.

    “Elizabeth Rousseau.”

    Mom’s face lit up prettily as she extended a dainty hand.

    Ridiculous flirt.

    James stared at her tenderly, a faraway look in his eyes.

    “Aren’t you just.”

    Mom blinked.

    “Excuse me?”

    Great, now my stalker was flirting back. Could my life get any more awkward?

    “Oh my, that didn’t sound right,” James observed sheepishly.

    Apparently it could.

    “Well there’s no use standing around,” Mom realized cheerfully, “why don’t we convene in the sitting room.”

    “I’d be honored,” James grinned.

    I’ll bet.

    Confused and extremely cross, I stomped alongside my mother towards the living room.
    “Your friend’s such a little gentleman,” Mom giggled once James was far enough behind.
    Oh please, someone shoot me. If my mother paid any attention to what happened in my life she’d realize I didn’t have any friends. I’m just not the type of person that needs them.
    As soon as we reached the sitting room I flopped down on the old leather armchair.
    Mom shot me a disapproving look.

    Whatever, anything not to share the loveseat with the simpleton.

    “I’ve gone to school with Reinette since Junior High,” James explained once everyone was seated.

    News to me. Then again I didn’t know half the kids in my homeroom by name.

    “My parents saw her picture in the year book and noticed how much he resembled her mother.”

    “They knew my sister?” Mom asked quietly.

    She looked sad, not hopeless like she did when bills came in the mail, just kind of regretful.

    “They went to school with her. They’ve been busy with work so they sent me here to send my condolences for them.”

    Mom’s heavily mascarad eyes were turning red and she was gulping fast.

    Oh geez, she’d better not start crying. I mean come on, you didn’t see me getting all emotional over my parents. They were dead, and no amount of sobbing would change that.

    “Um, why don’t we go upstairs,” I said quickly, grabbing James’s arm and pulling him up the stairs before my mother could protest.

    “You still going to call the police?” James teased once we were safely inside my room.

    “Shut up!” I hissed, shoving him down on my mattress, “What the h*ll are playing at?!”