Simulation

Chapter 4: Parent #2

So, update: My home life is a wreck right now.

When Jamie and I finally got back to the car, I was delighted to see his mom at the wheel. I love Jamie's mom. She's always smiling or singing, dancing or laughing. She's just about the most optimistic person I know. She's the kind of adult that never quite gave up being a child.

Some facts about Jamie's mom:

1. She hates being called Mrs.Roddenburg and insists that all of Jamie's preppy friends call her Rachel. You can see the internal turmoil they go through attempting it, but the discomfort is rarely fatal.
2. She hosts Sparksfield's annual danceathon and brings in hundreds of dollars worth of charity money every year. The danceathon is one of the most popular spring activities in our part of Arizona, and many of my favorite memories took place there.
3. Rachel owns a small franchise of Emerald Gardens Resorts, a high end hotel business that's extremely popular in the winter months. Jamie's stayed in several in his life, but my mom and I have only gone once.

When Jamie and I ran up to her car she mostly just looked confused. Sure, she greeted me cheerfully enough, but her voice was peppered with concern. After making sure I was alright, she called my mom to let her know we were together and on our way home. I never heard what my mom said to her, but I could see Rachel's brow furrowing slightly as she listened.

Jamie lives relatively close to me, but it was dark, and both he and Rachel thought I had done quite enough walking for the day. Jamie told his mom all about my "great traverse" on the drive home. The story made her laugh, especially the part where I distracted Jamie and made him lose the ball. Of course, he gave Rachel the "abridged version," leaving out the reason I missed the bus and a great deal of Markus's... commentary.

Now, I stare out the window, watching the streetlights shift my reflection in and out of view. Up ahead I can just make out the rough green paneling of my house.

I don't need to tell Rachel when to turn.

As she makes her way up my driveway, two things stand out to me immediately. First of all, the gate between the street and my front yard is swung wide open. My mom never leaves the gate open. Seriously, once I was late to school because my mom turned around five minutes into the drive just to come home and close that thing.

That's my first tip something's off.

My second is the lit porch light, shining like a beacon in the still darkness. It gleams at me, almost smug, lighting the way to my imminent doom. That's when I know I'm royally screwed. My mom is diametrically opposed to porch lights. She thinks they're an "egregious waste of electricity," and I don't think I've seen her break that rule once.

I walk apprehensively towards my door, hoping against hope that the light was just some kind of mistake. Deep down, I know there's no way my mom could have "accidentally" flipped the wrong switch. To turn it on, you have to squeeze your hand behind an unfortunately placed bookshelf in our living room, and just blindly feel around until you come across the panel. When you do, you just have to hope you find it before the stupid little protruding nail that none of us have been able to remove finds you.

No, this is no accident. My mom knew someone was coming, and I have a sinking suspicion that that "someone" is me.

I see a shadow move in the upstairs window. Yup, I'm never making it out of here alive. I shoot a worried glance back at Jamie's car, only to see that he's already gone. Thanks a lot Jamie, I think. If I die here, you're getting the worst seats at my funeral.

I make my way up the porch steps and glance once more at the window. No shadow. I swallow dryly and start to move my hand towards the doorknob. No use delaying the inevitable. Before I can twist it though, the door flings open with a deafening crash! I screech as if I've been struck, staggering back a few steps.