Blank: Chapter Five: Lasagna

A/N: Okay, I'll have to make this quick because I have a batch of cookies in the oven. So! Back to Sam and Eneile... you're finally going to get some answers. :)           

 “What do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on me like that?” I give him a mock shove and giggle. Sam’s still chuckling hysterically as I break a smile and then I’m in half, laughing out a lung or two. I punch him again and he mocks hurt, clutching his shoulder and whimpering. I laugh and do it again.

            “I thought you lured me out here to kill me!” I say.

            “Oh, I’ve done exactly that, Ms. Soole.” Sam pushes me a little and I stagger, snickering the whole way. I hurl myself back up on my feet and go at him, aiming my shoulders and head for a hit to the gut. My aim is dead on and I hit him. Now we’re both flying and then finally landing on the ground, legs and arms tangled and flailing, covered in dirt and moss and probably a few bugs.

            “You-” Sam rolls over on top of me and pins me down with both hands. Jeez, he’s really strong. I writhe under him, trying to get the upper hand.

            How this turned into a wrestling match, I’ll have no idea… 

            “Let…go...” I say under my breath and playfully buck under him. Surprisingly, he hears me and gets up off of my body. He straightens then lends a hand out to me. I take it and he hoists me up to a vertical position.

            Face it- you liked horizontal better.

            “That was fun.” Sam smiles, all teeth, and raises his eyebrows at me. I look down, horrified, at my jeans and sweatshirt, which is pressed up to expose some of my waist. I blush and push the gray sweatshirt down to its original place below my jean’s zipper. Sam awkwardly coughs and looks away. I practically see him counting to ten in his head before he turns back to look at me.

            “I have questions.” I say.

            “I have answers.” Sam replies smugly and waits.

            Go ahead; tell the boy what you want to know…

            “Okay… here goes…” I try to get it all out in one breath. I don’t succeed. “I want to know why you switched schools. And don’t give me any bullshit; I need to know the good and the bad. I want to know how the blank book with no title can suddenly have words. How did the desks rearrange? Your eyes were bright, bright red, Sam. Why did you hit Cotter and how did you inflict so must damage in one swing? He’s suing you, in case you don’t know…”

            My lungs fill with air before I continue. “Sam, I’ve known you were different since I met you, but I’m feeling different too. I don’t feel me.”

            Amusement flickers in Sam’s eyes, along with something else I can’t identify. He crosses his arms and puts an index finger to his lips, contemplating.

            “You think I’m crazy.” I breathe after a moment of silence.

            “On the contrary,” Sam says and uncrosses his arms.

            “Oh?”

            “Yah. Because honestly Eneile…” He pauses. I urge him on with my eyes. Tell me tell me tell me.

            Tell us.

            Sam sighs and leans against a nearby tree, staring me down with his brilliant silver eyes…

            “Honestly,” Sam repeats, “I even know about your broken window.”

            “How do you know about that?” I ask timidly, shifting from foot to foot.

            “I’ve been following you.” Sam says, reassured of himself and lifting his chin in a this-is-a-completely-normal-thing-to-do gesture.

            “Following me?” I gasp, and take an instinctual step back.

            He switched schools because he got into trouble. He wants to hurt you. Maybe he’s done it to other girls.

            “I had to make sure you wouldn’t get into any… unnecessary trouble.” He steps forward, and I step backward. We’re in a dance, until my back is suddenly touching a tree’s rough bark. My breathing is heavy, and my eyes are darting all around, searching for a way out.

            There is no way out.

            “What are you running away from me for, Eneile?” Sam enquires. His hand reaches out to me but from the look on my face he decides to stop. “What’s wrong?”

            “What’s wrong?” I mirror his words. “You just admitted that you’ve been following me around! Are you some kind Peeping Tom?”

            “No, no!” Sam’s eyes grow wide and he shakes his head so fast that it looks like he’s having a sick seizure. “I’m trying to protect you. You have no idea what we’re up against.”

            I take a step forward. “We.”

            “Yes, we.”

            “Explain this ‘we’.” I cross my arms and stare him straight in his eyes. If he’s lying, I’ll be able to tell.

            “I don’t mean ‘we’ as in you and I. I’m talking about all of us. All of our kind.”

            “Our kind?” I scoff and point my finger into his chest. “Do you honestly believe that I’m buying any of this shit? I know you think I’m some kind of freak, and maybe I am, but don’t even go there. Don’t.”

            “I don’t think you’re a freak, Eneile.” Sam whispers and slips his long-fingered hands into his jean pockets. “I just know you’re different, because you’re like me.”

            Like him?

            “I know about the broken window in your room, and I know how the desks in your class rearranged –I watched. I saw you leave dents in that girl’s car before you even got here.”

            “You’re sick.” I say. I push away from the tree and put distance away from me and Sam and then turn to yell behind my shoulder. “You stalk me?”

            “No.” Sam pops up behind a tree in front of me.

            How…?

            “You know nothing about me, Eneile. I have powers you could never imagine. You can’t run from me!” Sam’s glare is blazing red and full of fire, just like earlier today when he hit Cotter. Seeing the venom in his eyes puts me on edge. I have to be quick, I can get away from him if I’m fast enough.

            “Don’t even try to run. I need to answer your questions. If you still want to leave by the time I’m done, I’ll let you go.”

            “That doesn’t mean you won’t stop following me.” I retort.

            “No…” His lips curl up into a sad smile.

            “Just tell me what I need to know, Samuel.” I say firmly, the vowels and consonants sounding vile as they pass through my teeth.

            You think that just by using his full name you get the upper hand? Please. Don’t hold your breath, honey.

            Sam begins. “I’m what we call a Blank. It’s a name we’ve given ourselves, being that it’s the first thing we see when we open the book-”

            That book…

            “The one with no title?” I step closer to him, more intrigued then scared, though my spine tingles with the sense of danger. A crow in the distance cries his love-sick death song, creating a grim air in the woods.

            “Yah, that one,” He raises a thick eyebrow at me. “Can I go on, now?”
            “Be my guest.”

            “Every Blank in a specific area around the book is attracted to it. No one knows who made the book, but it’s very deep-rooted and special-”

            “What is a Blank, exactly?”

            Sam huffs and rolls his eyes at me sarcastically and continues, “A certain person with… convenient powers.”

            “You say I’m a Blank. I don’t see how that’s possible, since the only thing I’ve done my whole life is read a library. Or two or ten.” I grimace. I really have no life at all.

            Tell me about it. It’s boring up here-

            “Trust me, Eneile; you can do so much more than that.” Sam’s eyes sparkle with satisfaction… He steps a little closer. Finally we’re in a comfortable talking distance. It felt like we were shouting at each other before.

            “I want to know what I can do.” I tell Sam, impatient to learn about these powers I supposedly possess, still bouncing on the balls of my feet, ready to take flight if needed… I can be a crow.

            “I don’t know what you can do.” Sam speaks, “But I do have some theories.”

            I toss him a quizzing glance.

            “Before we test that, I’d like to finish explaining.” I face my palms to the sky and slide my arm across my body in a gesture that says: by all means…

            Sam takes a breath. “There aren’t very many of us. Being a Blank is passed down through your genes. Does anyone in your family seem… different?”

            “No, not at all. My family is about as normal as can be. The let’s-climb-something, hiker-type.” I say curtly.

            “I see.” Sam puts a finger to his lips and looks down, contemplating. “But you have to have got it from someone.”

            “Don’t kid yourself. I don’t have these powers at all.”

            “Don’t doubt yourself.” Sam’s eyes are deep in depth. I stare into them, searching for any false accusations, any lies. He’s telling the truth. About all of this.

            You’re insane.

            The tension in the air is growing to an almost uncomfortable weight on my shoulders. I take a deep breath and watch the crow I saw earlier fly from branch to branch, looking for a mate to carry on his genes before he dies.

            “You know, I feel like a crow.”

            Sam does a double-take. “What?”

            “I feel like a crow.” I say, and laugh at the expression of mock horror on Sam’s face.

            “A crow…?”

            “Well yah…” I breathe, and keep my eyes trailed on the crow until he flaps his midnight wings and drifts out of sight. “I keep flying from branch to branch, looking for answers to the things that have happened –quite recently, in my life… and I’m coming back empty.”

            “I’ve already told you much of what you need to know, right now.”

            “Yes, but what don’t I need to know right now?” I inch closer to Sam. I know he’s not telling me everything. If I do really have powers like he claims, there’s more to it. There’s a catch.

            “Once you discover your powers, I can tell you.” Sam states and gestures behind him with a thumb. “We should leave. Your sister will be worried about you.”

            “How do you know I have a sister?” I ask, horrified of how much he’s seen in my private life. Is he really some stalker, just messing with my head?

            “I’ve seen you get out of her car in the mornings.” Sam mutters and starts walking in the opposite direction that I came from, heading out of the wood. “You look a lot like her.”

            “Oh.” I mumble. “And to think I thought you were watching me through my window or something… how do you know about that, by the way?”

            “I was walking outside, close to your house.”

            Stalker.

            “A heard a window breaking, so I ran to your house and saw you wake up. There was glass everywhere.”

            At least he wasn’t watching you while you were asleep…

            “I thought I felt someone watching me.” I know I should be pissed that Sam would even be walking by my house, waiting for my powers to come to me, but surprisingly I’m flattered. He cares.

            Sam breaks a smile and puts on arms around my shoulders. “Watch where you step.”

            I blush and turn my attention to the ground in front of me. The last thing I want is to embarrass myself in front of Sam by tripping over a branch and falling flat on my face. Another crow cries in the distance and I wonder if it’s the same one, coming back for a second chance at love. I feel bad for the crow, because there aren’t any other crows around. He has no chance.

            “Remember when you texted me earlier?” I break the silence.

            “Mhm.” Sam sounds remarkably like Annie.

            Maybe he picked up her habit when he was stalking you the past two days.

            Shut up.

            “I want to know how you knew about my little stunt with Melanie’s car.” I ask and look up at him through my lashes. Geez, he’s tall.

            “Isn’t it obvious, Ennie? I was watching.” Sam gives a smile, all teeth. I’ve never noticed before but they’re sharp and pearly white. Deadly. Sam squeezes my shoulder painfully.

            “Ouch! Stop that.” I push his arm away and glare at him. His eyes.

            Red.

            “What’s wrong?” Sam asks, his smile is fabricated and his eyes are sparkling with a shade of… menace. He snatches my shoulder again. Hard. I yank his arm away.

            “What do you think you’re doing?”

            “Nothing.” He takes me in both of his arms and crushes me to his chest, hurting me. All air whooshes out of my lungs.

            Oh God, I can’t breathe.

            “Don’t fight it, Ennie.” It isn’t Sam’s voice anymore. It’s something indestructible. Deadly.

            “Let go of me.” I hiss, and push against his chest with all the power I have. “I said let go!” I clench my fingers together, digging in through his shirt, through his chest. Sam gasps and it sounds like he’s choking. I press into his chest deeper. I don’t want to do this to Sam, but that instinctual feeling to survive is pressing my fingers abysmal.

            “Hell,” Sam releases me from his ironclad embrace and I stagger to the ground, heaving and coughing. He clutches his chest. Sam’s red eyes are shrieking.

            I don’t think it. I run. I pound through the underbrush, heart pounding, and blood rushing through my ears. Branches reach out and snag my clothing. I push what I can away and take the rest with me. Blisters form at my heels but I ignore them and keep my legs moving.

            That wasn’t Sam. That was something else. I feel tears form in my eyes and I blink them away. I can’t risk blurring my vision in a situation like this.

            Sam appears in front of me. His eyes are… silver and glowing.

Where’s the red?

A cool water fall preserved for his eyes alone.

            “Gah!” I tumble and fall right into his hard chest. “Whoa,” Sam grabs hold of me and breaks my fall, holding me in his arms.

            “Get away from me!” I scream at him. “Stop following me! I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

            “I didn’t do anything,” Sam pants, clearly confused about what just happened. He’s still holding his chest. His crisp white shirt is covered in red, oozing blood. There’s ten little holes perjuring in his flesh. They match my finger prints. I stare at my hands, covered in red that’s not mine.

            “I saw your eyes, Sam!” I rasp, catching my breath. “They were red, and dangerous. I don’t trust you anymore. You hurt people, you hurt Cotter. You got expelled from your school, didn’t you?!”

            Sam’s silver eyes go wide and he backs away. “I’m sorry.” He tries to mask his surprise but I see right through him. He’s scared. “I’m sorry, I wanted to wait to show you later, but I have to do it now.” Sam reaches for me and grabs my forearms, eyes begging. I’m frozen in place, mesmerized by the clear liquid of his pleading eyes.

            “Sam?”

            Then, we’re gone.

            It’s a difficult thing to describe, not being somewhere and then everywhere at the same time, but with Sam, it just happened. When he grabs me I feel a pulse under his skin ignite in mine, and I was a floating being. I’ve never been in a plane before, I’ve always preferred a scenic drive, but now I get how people feel after their plane takes off.

            Nauseous.

            And leaving my gut on the floor. I still see Sam, but he’s the only one here. It’s just me and him, surrounded by darkness and moving a thousand feet per second. My hair keeps catching in my eyes but the wind pressure on my arms is too great to be able to lift even a fingertip.

            Then, we’re outside. There’s a quaint little brick house not ten feet from where we’re standing together. Sam loosens his grip on my arm but doesn’t let go. For once, I’m grateful. Without his support I would surely fall over. I’m feeling lightheaded and

            Out of place.

            The whole process took about three seconds.

“I told you I have powers. I can teleport anywhere I’ve ever been or want to be. If you want to go to Paris for late-night coffee I swear I can take you there.”

            “Where are we?” I blink at him, finally regaining my balance and ability to speak. My mind isn’t taking this so well.

            Tell about it.

            “My dad’s house. Um, Connecticut.”

            “Take me back.”

            “I want you to meet him.” Sam whispers and ushers me to the little red house. It reminds me of Sam’s eyes, which is the very reason I feel a pinch in my stomach, telling my brain that I need to get away from Sam and all the uncertainty he brings.

            “I don’t want to be here. You said before that when you were done explaining you’d let me go.”

            “I’m not through with you, yet.” Sam hisses and I see a flash of red across his pupils before he shakes his end and blinks it away, gone as quickly as it came. “Come.” Sam takes my hand and I’m unwillingly led across the dew-studded grass to the solid wood door of the house. Sam pounds once, really loudly, and then lets himself in.

            “Dad! I’m home!” Sam screams at the top of his lungs. I slip my hand out of his grip and cover my ears.

            “Sam! Shush!” I say, barely able to hear myself think.

            “Sorry,” Sam says in a more acceptable tone and gives an apologetic smile. “My dad’s deaf, he needs to feel the vibrations so I don’t surprise him and give him a heart attack.”

            “Oh hello!” I small, balding man of about fifty emerges from the top of the stairs. His slippered feet squeak against the dark wooden floorboards as he pushes his glasses closer to his eyes and he still squints. His words are mumbled and come awkward off his tongue.

            “Who’re you?” Sam’s father throws toward me.

            “Er- Eneile.” I say loudly, hoping he can read lips.

            “E-neelie?” The man questions, reaching the bottom of the stairs and putting a withered hand on the glossy banister. I shake my head yes. He pronounces it a bit different but I don’t mind. I don’t want to offend the cute old man with the sweater vest and corduroy slippers. He reminds me a lot of my grandfather.

            “Sam, boy, you’re bleeding!” Sam’s father walks hurriedly over to Sam and checks his wounds. I quickly wipe my fingers on the inside of my sweater to hide the evidence, blushing and guilty. Sam’s father starts signing quickly, a scowl on his face. Sam rolls his eyes and signs quickly back, his mouth set in a grim line. After a few moments of silent discussion, Sam’s father waves a hand at me and goes back up the wooden stairs with his fuzzy slippers.

            “What did you say?” I ask.

            “Tree branch. Tripped and fell into it.” Sam coughs and looks like he’s in pain. He’s sweating a little on his brow, a few strands of hair slick on his skin.

            “I’m so sorry.” I whisper, and wipe the hair away from his temple.

            “It’s my fault. I lost control.” Sam coughs and lays a palm on his chest. It comes back red and angry.

            “Where’s your bathroom?” I grab his hand and he leads me through a small dining room and into a separate hall with three doors. He points to the middle one and I open it and pull Sam in with me. “Got any medical wrap?”

            “Cabinet.”

            I open the bathroom cabinet and uncover a box of medical wrap and a little bottle of prescription painkillers. I raise my brows and rattle the bottle.

            “My dad’s.” Sam coughs and shakes his head at me. I don’t question him further and slip the wrap out of its box.

            “Take your shirt off.”

            Sam laughs and takes off his jacket, hesitating while lifting up his shirt an inch. “Hasty, are we?”

            “Shut up.” I slap his hand softly and his lifts the rest of his shirt to expose his bare chest and stomach. I clear my throat and try not to goggle. The chest wounds looked a lot worse through the shirt than they actually are, not deep, but grotesque. “How bad do they hurt?”

            “Not too bad,” Sam admits and lifts his arms up. Taking the wrap, I start to cover his chest with it. Most of the bleeding has stopped and Sam’s breathing a bit easier. My hands stay a little too long on the center of his chest as finish securing it. Sam’s breath suddenly quickens and I dart my eyes up to his before looking down at my shoes before I embarrass myself. I pat his chest lightly.

            “All better.” I clear my throat and throw the wrap box away in a trash bin by the toilet. I take the bottle of painkillers and struggle to conquer the child-proof top.

            “Stupid thing…”

            Way to go.

            The bottle finally gives up and snaps open. I smile a little victory smiles and take out two of the small red pills as Sam cracks a smile and laughs. “Here.” I offer them up to Sam and he takes them from my palm gratefully. He pops them in his mouth and leans to take a draught from the sink. As I watch him sip water from the tap, seeing his Adam’s apple bob up and down, I feel a sudden heat explode under my skin. I ignore it.

            “Thanks for the Fix-Me-Up.” Sam winks.

            “I’m just sorry it happened,” I say and lean against the sink. The bathroom just got a little more crowded.

            “Are you okay?” Sam’s tone is serious. He leans down to grab his shirt and slips it back on.

            Face it; you want it on the floor…   

            “Um,” I give myself a check-up. I don’t hurt too badly except the blisters on my heels and a slight ache to my arms. “I’m okay.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yah. Really sure.” I smile up at him.

            You shouldn’t let your guard down. Remember the woods? He went crazy back there. Not to mention he has powers and…

            “I want to go home.”

            “You don’t mean that.”

            I give his comment one simple thought. I really don’t want to go home… I’m not sure if this is good or bad. I give one look to Sam, who’s picking up his tanned jacket off of the bathroom tile and waiting for me. This isn’t so bad.

            “We need to talk.” I tell him.

            Sam scoffs, “We always need to talk. I’m surprised your mouth isn’t running on empty, yet.” He opens the door for me and I squeeze past him out into the hallway.

            “It’s your fault. Whenever you give me answers it just gives my mouth more of an excuse to run.”

            “How so?”

            “Your ‘answers’ have leave me with more questions than I started with.” I tease. Sam walks out of the hallway and leads me to a den, complete with loveseat, fireplace and massive shelves full of thick, leather-bound books.

            “Your home is nice.” I say and walk over to the shelves stuffed with books. “How did you ever get so many books?”

            “Most of them are my dad’s, actually,” Sam speaks and walks up behind me, pulling a book out. “Mysteries, mostly.” Sam flips through a few pages of the complete works of Sherlock Holmes and then sets it back in its proper place.

            “So your dad likes to read then, that’s good.” I say, and run a finger along all the book’s spines, tentatively. “He seems like a good man.”

            “He is.” Sam lays a hand gently on my wrist, stopping me examination of the books. “He doesn’t like it when people outside the family touch his books, though.”

            “Oh, sorry-” I quickly pull my hand away and stick it at my side. No touching, I can do that. “I didn’t realize he was so protective of them.”

            “It’s okay, you didn’t know.” Sam heads for the loveseats and seats himself. Then, he waves me over and I follow his footsteps, sitting on the other side and staring into the crackling fire.

            “I’ve always wanted a real fireplace, when I get a house of my own.” I tell Sam, leaning in a little closer into his side. “With no glass covering, or automatic buttons and settings. Just a fire.”

            “Yah, they’re nice.” The reflection of his eyes burn from the roaring fire. He stealthily slides his left arm around the back of the couch, enclosing me. Sam clears his throat but keeps his eyes on the fire, contemplating.

            “So, you… like, teleport?” I laugh at my obscene tone and choice of words. I sigh and scoot closer to him. Without the fire, the house would be pretty cold, and I can feel a draft coming from the open door at my back. I fiddle my thumbs stare at the twisting tentacles of the fire, bobbing up and down and spitting out a spare ash or two.

            “You could say it like that, yes,” Sam whispers and tightens his arm around my shoulders. “Warm enough?”

            “I’m good, thank you.”

            Sam smiles and leans his head on the bad of the loveseat, sighing. “I know  that you think having some immense power would make your life better,” His lips breathe in a murmur, “but you’re dead wrong.”

            “I don’t see the con in having a power.” I retort and raise my eyebrows at him. “There’s more?”

            “So much more, Eneile.” Sam says and closes his eyes. “I don’t want you to know about it yet. I think I just want to preserve your…” He pauses and lifts his head to look at me. “Sense of safety for a little while longer.”

            “I need to know about things like this.” What could he be hiding from me?

            The fact that he’s psycho.

            “Not right now.”

            I leave it like that. I would push my case, but honestly, I’m no lawyer. When Sam’s ready to tell me what I ought to know he will. Until then, I can wait.  

          “Okay, then tell me what I do need to know.”

            “All you have to worry about right now is when your powers will come. Judging by the moving desks, you being able to leave dents in a car, and myself,” Sam smirks, “I’d bet my money that you either have impressive strength-”

            I make a face and Sam chuckles. “Scratch that, I’d say you have telekinesis.”

            “Teleki- what?” I gasp.

            “Telekinesis. You can move things with your mind, channeled through your hands.” He nods his head to my hands resting in my lap with his eyes and then brings them back up to me. “That would explain the desks in the classroom, the dents in the car, in me, and maybe even the broken window in your bedroom.”

            “But I wasn’t even awake when that happened!”

            “No, I think the window broke right when you woke up.” Sam mumbles, “Something must have scared you. Like a bad dream. Did you have one?”

            I think back to that night, it was the first night I dreamed of the hooded midnight man. He had wanted me dead.

            “Yah, I did.” I shudder, remembering his pale, reptile-like skin and razor sharp nails.  “Nightmare would be a more fitting word.”

            “Hm. Care to talk about it?”

            “I’d rather not.”

            “You’ll tell me someday.” Sam tilts his head at me the way a dog would when begging for treats.

            “I’ll talk about my dreams the day you tell me the cons of having powers.”

            “Deal. But I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

            “You’re impossible, Sam, you know that?”

            “My father reminds me every now and again.”

            I scoff. “Does he now?”

            “Sure does.”

            After a pause. “So your dad’s used to you taking girls home with you or what?” I tease and elbow his ribcage. Sam sucks in air sharply through his teeth and gasps, eyes squeezing shut.

            “Sorry, sorry!” I apologize and cover my mouth. “I forgot-”

            “Don’t… worry about it.” Sam exhales opens his eyes, smoothing his shirt over the bandages I put on him not ten minutes ago. “All better now, eh?”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “I said don’t worry about it.”

            “It’s all my fault you’re in this condition in the first place…” I sigh and bury myself deeper into the plush back of the couch. The fire has died down considerably, coughing and sputtering out its last breaths of life.

            “No, I shouldn’t have… startled you?” Sam’s expression goes blank and he’s suddenly somewhere else, recollecting our time back in the woods together. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

            “Um, no.” I whisper and cross arms over myself protectively. “But it was like you were a whole different person. You changed, just like that.”

            “I lose control, sometimes.” Sam says, coming back to reality and looking everywhere but at my face.

            “Is losing control a con to having powers?”

            “Not for everyone.”

            “Explain.”

            “Well, it’s not set in stone, but my theory is that the greater powers you have, the harder it is to control it. I used to only lose control when I got mad or frustrated, but now, I find myself losing it for no particular reason.”

            A knock comes from behind us. “Sam?”

            We both turn around to face Sam’s father, whose standing in the doorway looking awkward for interrupting a conversation that would be silent to him. “Yes, dad?”

            “Help me with dinner.”

            “It’s ten o’clock.” Sam sighs and unfolds from the couch. There’s an indent of where he sat and the loveseat is terribly open and empty without him. I get up too, and pad over to Sam’s side.

            Sam’s dad starts signing to him, which he replies with his own gestures. Sam reads them aloud for me so I can understand. “So you’re still hungry? I think there are leftovers in the fridge.”

            There’s a pause, and Sam repeats what his father said through his hands. “No, I want to make lasagna.”

            I laugh. “I’ll help you make lasagna, Mr. Reethe.” Sam’s dad seems to understand me and waves me over. I lend Sam a ‘what can you do’ look and follow Mr. Reethe into the dark wood kitchen that’s like a matched set of the house. It's the first time I've been in his kitchen but I feel like I belong here, with Sam and his dad in their quaint little house. 

            After all that has happened today, why do I finally feel so... normal?

End of Chapter Five.

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A/N: OKAY, so a lot of stuff to take in this chapter, sorry if it seemed a bit much, I know it's long. Another update in about a week, maybe two. Comments are what keeps meh breathin' and are much appreciated!