Growing Pains

Chapter 29 - Life was both beautiful and devastating

Z O E Y

It was Friday night, so Mr. Young had been surprised I was available for babysitting. He had a work dinner, and Mrs. Young was going with him. They would be home late, probably past midnight, but he said he would give me a ride home, so I didn't have to take the night bus. I had been planning on spending my Friday night in bed, reading until mom got home, at which point we would order pizza and eat it over a movie on the couch. I hadn't told Mr. Young this. I just told him I was available.

They were already gone by the time I made it to their house. Instead of Mr. and Mrs. Young dressed to impress, Tristan was the one who opened the door, apparently on his own way out, if the jacket he was struggling to put on was anything to go by.

"Sam's in the kitchen putting a lightbulb in the microwave," he told me when he managed.

I didn't believe him, "What?"

"He says it's for school."

I stepped inside, "You're lying."

He stepped outside, "I would never lie to you. You should hurry. I'm out."

I opened my mouth, my hand already on the door so I could close it behind him.

"Actually," he stopped me. "I wasn't gonna ask, but it's gonna eat me away if I don't. What the fuck happened to you?"

He was pointing at the bandage on my lip with the hand with the sad face tattoo, but I wasn't in the mood for a back and forth that would probably end with him saying I had it coming, and I also didn't have the time for it, seeing as there was a real possibility that Sam was about to make something explode in the kitchen, so I just shrugged, and said, "I got in a fight."

Tristan reached for a cigarette in the pocket of his jacket with the hand with the fuck tattoo across his fingers, and said, "Right," like he didn't believe me.

"What?" I was surprised he hadn't left already, but I guessed he really couldn't miss a chance to make my day worse.

"You're lying," he said, lighting up his cigarette.

I smiled, "I would never lie to you."

"Why don't you come up with your own –"

"Goodbye, Tristan," I stopped him, closing the door in his face before he could breathe the smoke in mine.

I was still smiling though, a smile that died as soon as I reached the kitchen, jacket, and beanie still on, my tote bag falling off my shoulder. In the microwave, a lightbulb lit up and then exploded, pulling a scream out of both me and Sam, who was hiding behind a chair in his pajamas, notebook and pencil in hand, swim goggles on.

"What is wrong with you, Sam?!"

"Hi!" he said instead of everything, big eyes on me, and a bigger smile on his lips. Then, very fast, like a disclaimer at the end of a tv ad on medication, he said, "It's for school."

I stepped closer to the microwave, "You're crazy."

He followed me, "Crazy amazing."

"No, just crazy," I said, opening the microwave to find a bowl of water with a broken lightbulb in it.

"It worked though," he said, reaching for the bowl. I slapped his hand away and grabbed it myself. Sam went on, "Then it exploded. That's why the lightbulb's broken."

"What were you thinking?" I asked, putting his science project down on the counter where he had his science books, a fat pencil case full of color pencils, and apparently all of his other school supplies. He added the notebook and the pencil he had been holding to it.