Tick.

Marker Mustache

Evelyn's car smells like cinnamon. I sit in the back seat, clutching my drawstring bag and my backpack. I spent the last hour trying to figure out what to bring. It came to a point where I had to call Aunt Taylor at work and ask her for advice. I didn't know what to wear. If I am going to meet her parents, I wouldn't want to make my first impression in a ratty old hoodie, but I can't throw on a formal dress and wear it to a sleepover. That's weird and Evelyn will think that I don't know what I'm doing. Except, I actually don't know what I'm doing!

So, I did the simple thing. I didn't change at all. I switched to worrying about something else instead, all the while haunted by the ticking.

Now, I sit quietly as Evelyn drives us to her house. Evelyn's yellow sweater is draped on the back of the passenger's seat. The cinnamon and her soft humming almost calm me, but my stomach still churns with anxiety.

After a much too short amount of time, Evelyn is parking in a driveway. I get out on shaky legs, gripping my bags for dear life. I have barely registered my surroundings, when Evelyn grabs me by the hand and leads me towards a looming apartment building. Bright and sunny Evelyn lives here? Evelyn, who likes ginger ale and glitter and yellow sweaters with her name stitched into them, lives here? I don't know what I was expecting, but I never pictured someone like her living somewhere like here. Somewhere like this grimy, gloomy, and crumbling building.

Somewhere like where I live.

So, why can she be proud of her home, and I can't?

Evelyn guides me down a series of hallways on the first floor, before we finally stop at a doorway. The number is faded but she knocks anyway. Twenty ticks pass, before Evelyn's face falls and she sighs. She bangs her fist against the door. I can sense her patience running out.

Finally, the door is cracked open, and a boy with Evelyn's nose and eyes peers at us.

Evelyn pushes the door open farther and scolds the boy, "What took so long, Liam?"

The boy, Liam, studies me with something just short of fear in his eyes. "Who is she?" he asks his sister, eyes still fixed on me warily.

"You can ask her yourself. Don't be rude. She's a human too," Evelyn snaps at him.

Liam gulps. "Who a-are you?"

"Alithea," I say.

Liam opens the door a little wider, allowing Evelyn and I to slip inside.

Liam faces Evelyn and whispers. "Jesus, Evelyn, not another one. You know how Mom gets."

Evelyn shoots him a glare. "Leave us alone and I'll give you your twenty dollars in a few minutes."

Tick.

Her parents don't want me here? Do they even know I'm here?

Liam gives me one more worried glance, before he walks into a nearby room and shuts the door. I don't like the way he looks at me, as if I'm a ticking bomb, about to go off at any minute.

That is sort of the truth. I'm a bomb. But when I explode, it's the quiet type of loud and the chaotic type of calm.

Evelyn opens a door on the left of the entrance hallway and I follow her. The room is covered in various paintings, most of them being of landscapes. A desk and a bed sit at one end, and a beanbag chair is placed near the center of the room. The walls are painted a warm, honey color. The room gives off an overwhelmingly Evelyn vibe.

Evelyn sits on her bed and picks up a blue ukulele that is resting next to her. She absentmindedly strums a few chords and sets it down again. She seems troubled and something's obviously bothering her.