Chapter Four

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Tyler and I both turn towards the window at the sound of a truck door closing, then back at the mess all over the bedroom floor.

"Well, this is going to take some explaining," he jokes.

Knowing I didn't want to try and talk my way out of this one, I decided it was probably best to meet my dad downstairs before he has the chance to check on me in my room. I quickly tip-toed through the debris and shut the bedroom door, right as I hear my father entering the house.

"Hey, Dad!" I call as I come flying down the stairs.

"Hey Ali, how was your first day?" He drops his briefcase on the kitchen counter and heads to the fridge to find us some dinner.

"It was great!" I lie.

"Well, that's good. I'm glad things went well."

He sounds genuinely relieved, which helps me feel a little better about lying to him. Why make him worry more than he already does right?

"What's for dinner?" I ask, giving him my biggest smile.

"I was thinking of grilling some hamburgers. How does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect!"

Luckily, my dad is a great cook, because that is something I did not manage to inherit. I am usually not even allowed in the kitchen when he is cooking as I am such a danger to us both and the food. He once told me that my mom couldn't cook either, and as much as I hate having anything in common with her, I know there is probably nothing I can do to change it. I even went as far as to drag Ty to a few cooking classes a couple of years ago in an attempt to try and rectify the situation to no avail. Annoyingly though Tyler was a complete natural.

As I watch my dad rummage through the fridge, I decide my best chance to clean my room without him noticing is while he's outside cooking. So, I decided to make my getaway.

"Hey Dad, I'm going to get started on my homework before dinner's ready."

"Okay, kiddo. It shouldn't be more than twenty minutes."

I give him a quick peck on the cheek and rush up the stairs to my room. Not a whole lot of time, but I can make it work. I open the door, to see Tyler standing in the middle of the mess, looking like he has just been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn't.

"What is that look for?" I ask him, scanning the room.

"I thought you were your dad, and I panicked," he says sheepishly.

"And what? You were afraid you were going to be blamed for this mess?" I roll my eyes at his logic, but also can't help but find it amusing. "He can't see you, Ty."

"I know that. I just sometimes... forget," he shrugs his shoulders and tries to act nonchalantly, but all the humor fades from the room instantly. And at this moment, I wish with all my heart that I could hug my best friend.

"I'm sorry, Tyler." I try to keep the tears from my eyes, but I can feel some of them escape down my cheek anyway. The traitors.

"Hey, none of that now," he tells me. "We have a mess to clean, and by we, I of course mean you."

I can tell he is just trying to lighten the mood, so I decided to play along with it and let him.

"It's probably better I have to clean up alone, tidying up was never something you excelled at Tyler Collins," I tease, "And I only have twenty minutes to get it done."

I begin to pile up all my books that were thrown in all different corners, praying that none were damaged.

"Any casualties?" Tyler asks nervously.

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