The Start of Pain

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Well, I don’t know how else to say this, but... Bye.” Sinead gave all of them the most fake smile she’s ever given anybody in her entire life. Amy smiled nervously, meeting nobody’s eyes and finding a certain part of the ceiling interesting.

Ian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly as he looked at Amy wearily, almost imploringly. Hamilton rolled his cool blue eyes at Sinead. Jonah, with his casual, designer clothes, is wearing this expression like he doesn’t know what’s happening in the world. His eyes dart back and forth from Sinead to Hamilton then to Amy then at Ian.

“Uh... Are you guys fighting or something?” Jonah asked cautiously, knowing that if he so much as presses the wrong button, the whole mansion would implode. His hand gripped the handle of his black pack in case he needed to fend off a flying dart or a kick or all of the above.

Jake made a face at him. “Wow, they are right. You are amazingly tactful,” he drawled exasperatedly, pushing his brown hair away from his eyes. He pulled the sleeves of his layered t-shirt up to his elbows and clapped his hands. “Do you need help putting your stuff in the van?” he asked politely, looking at the three boys with a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s so much better at tact than I am,” Jonah muttered angrily, heaving his bulging backpack up, and headed towards the Cahill basement. He was shaking his head as he went.

Hamilton glowered at him with as much hate as he could shove up his glinting, icy blue eyes. He is feeling deep, boiling hatred for this boy right now that it wouldn’t be prudent for him and this skunk to be in the same room much less the same house for the next couple of years. That is if he doesn’t want to go to hiding. Which isn’t a problem, really. He caught Sinead’s look of disappointment directed right at him. He growled before saying, “No, I don’t think I need your help.”He put emphasis on the weirdest of places. He trudged after Jonah, grumbling about people with no life and nothing better to do and blaming and stupid sons.

Jake stared at his wake disbelievingly. He nodded slowly before turning to Ian and looking at him expectantly. “So...?”

“No,” Ian said bluntly with the air of his usual superiority, walking out after his two group mates after smoothing out his black and grey argyle sweater which he wore over his white polo. Sinead, Amy, Jake and Evan, who felt contented in simply watching them and not pointing out his existence, heard the echoes of their footsteps.

Amy shot him an apologetic look, tucking her reddish-brown hair behind her ear. “Jake, I’m so –“

Jake held up a hand to stop her. “No, don’t worry about it. I know they hate my guts anyway,” he said coolly, as though that’s the most obvious - much less okay - thing in the world.

“Mine, too,” Evan piped in, his glasses sliding down his nose. “I don’t have any idea what I did, though,” he continued innocently. Jake nodded in agreement.

“Nobody ever knows what’s wrong with them,” Sinead said half-consoling, half-annoyed. She felt her blood pressure rise dangerously just by being in the same room as that stupid, suicidal idiot. “We just pretend we don’t notice and continue with our lives the way normal people do.”

Amy bit her lip as she eyed all of their faces. “Ye-Yeah. That’s what we do,” she whispered.

Begrudgingly, they followed after the Three Muske-dorks.

xxxOOOxxx

“Holt.”

“Yeah?”