Two Weeks With August Orwell

1

"I'm home!" I called, running up the stairs. The house seemed to be empty. "Hello?"

Usually my mom would be here right now. She's an accountant and works from home. 

I shrugged and dumped my backpack in the hall. You say home alone, I say more opportunity to play electric guitar loudly and eat cereal right out of the box.

I'm doing just that when the door opens. 

"Finian?" 

An explanation of the name thing: my parents are weird and gave me a boy name "to help deconstruct gender norms." I go by Finn, because it's kind of annoying to have a boy name that's also obscure as fuck. 

I ascended the basement stairs two at a time.

"Hey, mom," I said. 

"What are you doing?" my mother asked.

"Playing guitar," I said, kicking the amp cord aside.

My mom rolled her eyes. She doesn't like my tastes in music. She's more of a jazz person, I'm a rock person.

"Um, Finian... something's come up. You see--"

"Hello," a boy stood next to my mom in the doorway. He was strikingly handsome, with shaggy dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a perfectly chiseled jaw. I was suddenly aware that I was wearing sweatpants and socks.

"Hi," I said. "No offense, but who are you?"

"I'm August. August Orwell," he glanced at my mother. "I assume you're Finian... I didn't realize you were a girl."

I raised my eyebrows. "It's Finn. And would someone be kind enough to tell me why August Orwell is here?" 

"Yes!" my mother said a bit breathlessly. "Remember Beatrice?"

I stared at her blankly. "What now?"

"She's one of my oldest friends--August's mom," my mother said, sounding shocked that I had no idea who she was talking about.

I dug desperately through my memory. "Oh yeah!" I snapped my fingers. "I think I remember, a bit... Bea." I gave her a look. "It's been like twelve years since I saw her. I can't even remember what we had for dinner yesterday!"

"We had tacos, sweetheart."

"I wasn't actually asking."

"Well, anyway, August's family is moving, and there was a problem with the deal," mom said. "They've found themselves with no where to stay for a few weeks--"

I groaned. "Please tell me you're not going to say what I think you're going to say."

"Finian! Be polite!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Anyway, August's mom and dad are staying at Bea's sister's place up in Seattle, but it's too small for the whole family, so August is going to stay with us for two weeks."

"Yeah, but mom," I said, glancing at August, who had been standing awkwardly in the doorway the whole time. "We don't have room. This house is a two bedroom."

"There's room in the basement for August," my mother asserted.

"But that's my room!"

"You can take turns sleeping on the inflatable mattress."

"But--"

"Finian, we are not going to turn August out onto the streets," mom said. "So go clean your room; it's far too messy to fit an air bed right now."

"But I like it how it is," I muttered.

"Finian. Go. August, come into the kitchen for a cup of tea--"

"Actually, Mrs. Green, I'll help Finn with her room," August responded.

"This way," I said, and led the way downstairs. 

The basement contains a laundry room/bathroom and my bedroom. I led August down the short hallway to my room.

I love my room. It's painted dark blue, and the walls are plastered with band posters, pictures of YouTubers, and framed pictures of me and my best friends. In the corner is an amp and guitar stand, and next to that a bookshelf, record player, and speaker. Then there's my bed, which has a tie dye duvet I made myself, and my desk in the corner. 

The floor did have a light sprinkling of clothes on it, but it really wasn't that messy.

"I'll do it," I said. "It's not too dirty, anyway."

August nodded and sat down in my desk chair. He set a duffel bag on the floor.

I bent down and started retrieving the clothes.

"So, where are you from?" I asked casually.

"Connecticut," said August.

I whistled. 

"Long way."

"Yeah."

"I assume you're moving somewhere in the northwest, then?"

"LA," August said.

"Oh. Not the northwest then."

"The regular west."

I laughed. 

"Yeah. The regular west."

///

"Does August have to go to school here, then?" I asked over dinner.

"Yeah," dad said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "But only for the two weeks he'll be here."

"That's kinda pointless."

"Yes, but it's too long to not go to school legally," mom pointed out.

"What grade are you in?" I asked, turning to August.

"Junior," he said.

"I'm a sophomore."

I looked at his eyes as discreetly as I could. They were greenish, with bits of brown and even tiny flecks of gold near the pupil. His eyes were as layered as the lasagna.

After dinner my mom and dad inflated the air mattress and I got on the Xbox.

August just sat at the dining room table, looking at his phone, as I played Assassin's Creed.

"Hey, you wanna play?" I asked.

"Nah, video games aren't really my thing. I kinda suck at them."

"Sure? I could help you," I said.

"What are you playing?" 

"Assassin's Creed."

"I dunno... I could try," he said.

I grinned.

August really did suck at video games, but that was what made it fun. By the time he'd died six times in a row, we were laughing too hysterically to continue. 

My mother found us a few minutes later, me rolling around on the floor, August shaking on the couch.

"I guess you two are getting on well then," she said a bit sternly. "Finian, August, time for bed. Feel free to argue over who gets the air bed."

Later on, I lay in my bed, trying to decipher my feelings. I liked August. He was nice, and funny, and a little weird. Just like me. And he was also handsome, and charismatic. And a year older than me, and more mature by a long shot. 

But I felt the beginnings of a crush all the same.

///