Stay

Chapter seven.

Not one minute later the doorbell rings sending a shiver down my spine.

For most people, talking isn't a big deal. They can have a laugh, joke around, tell stories. 

Those people I envy.

For me, being sociable is a difficulty. I've tried to tell my parents in the past but they don't understand what it's like.

They don't understand how my throat feels as if it's closing and my palms go sweaty. It's like someone is strangling me constantly causing breathlessness when talking. It's the thing I get most anxious about, my face always goes red when I struggle to talk, knowing they can see my vulnerability and the only thing I can do is smile and carry on with my life.

It's like living hell. 

My father races to the door, brushing his smart shirt and opens it with a huge grin on his face.

"Welcome." He gestures for the guests to enter.

Watching from behind the kitchen door, I notice the man, around mid-forties, wearing a smart suit a tie. Very composed with a few streaks of grey running through his short cut hair. Behind him a stunning woman around the same age enters. She wears a little black dress that shows off all her features and her dyed red hair stands out against the fabric.

My father takes both of their jackets and pulls out a chair for the lady at the table.

"Maria, they're here!" My dad shouts up the stairs.

"If you don't mind, we would like to wait for our son. He should be here any second." The lady smiles, her voice warm and calm.

My dad just nods in reply before taking my mums hand and leading her to a chair next to his.

Clearing her throat, she glares at me through the gap in the door. The glare that tells me to take a seat or she will deal with me later.

Feeling very under dressed for the occasion in my jeans and auburn jumper, I slowly make my way. Awkwardly smiling at the Oliver's and focusing on my breathing.

The chair screeches against the wooden floor as I pull it out from underneath the table causing utter silence and my face flushes red.

It hasn't even been five minutes. Look at yourself! Pull it together.

Everyone sits there in silence until  Mr Oliver finally speaks up.

"Where the bloody hell has that boy gotten to?" His face, unlike everyone else's, is more serious. A line sits between his eyebrows, probably formed by the constant frowning. My stomach tightens at his threatening presence.

Just as Mrs Oliver starts to speak up the front door creeks open.

We all look around to see who walks in and as I see the boy's face, his appearance makes me remember the chocolate cookies, the closet and the classroom note incident... 

My heart sinks as the curly haired boy shuffles over and pulls up the seat next to me wearing jeans and a t-shirt. The cold from the outside radiates off him.

His face just as red as mine. 

"Give me one reason not to send you back home to get changed." Mr Oliver bangs his fist on the table causing us all to jump, everyone but Jessie that is. He just looks down, kicking his feet on the chair legs. His dad only looks up laughing "Teenagers!" He huffs, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not now, dear." Mrs Oliver interrupts, placing her hand gently on his and smiling.

False. This family is completely false.

Jessie finally looks up from the table and glances at me.

We hold the stare for a moment. Only a moment before I turn away, remembering the words on the note.

Let your eyes wonder onto the new guy I will leave more than just a few cuts.

"I will grab the food." I say quickly facing my mother, trying to smile the best I can.

As I enter the kitchen I start to wonder.

How the hell do I get out of this one?