Of All The People, It Had To Be You - Josh Sanderson fanfic

Prologue

Nine Years Ago
I was nine when it happened, when a fatal car crash resulted in death of my father. I didn't know it at the time, but I had lost one of my best friends; the one who cheered me up when I was down, played tea parties, and braided my hair. He was there in a moment, and then done the next.

I was at school, when I got called to the office. All the kids in my class had thought I got in trouble and were chanting 'Riley's in trouble' over and over again. But that wasn't the case, it was the opposite. My mother had come to take me home, she said it was for an appointment, so I agreed. Although I could something was wrong, her eyes were bloodshot and she looked pale.
During the ride home, my mother seemed distant. She normally would talk about the day and asked how my morning was, but I got none of that. Instead it was silent, not the comfortable silence. It was an eerie silence, one you'd expect when walking through a graveyard.
I didn't really know what to do, so I just sat there and stayed silent. Hoping that nothing was wrong. But little did I know at the time, there was something wrong. She was hurting and in pain. That's what I had mistakenly took for as 'eerie silence'. Her silence was her trying to control her feelings, and even if it didn't look like it at the time, she was in pain. Just not the kind I understood back then.

Eventually we came up to our house, slowing down and driving into the car port. I noticed a moving truck next down, 'new neighbours' I thought as the car slowly moved into the car port. The sight of the truck disappearing as we come to a halt inside. My mother turned the car off and looked over at me, small hints of a smile tugging at the ends of her mouth.
"Come on, lets go inside and have something nice" she mumbled, a small smile finally forming. I nodded and jumped out of the car, and ran over to her. She nudged me and gave me the key to the car.
"Here, you can lock the car." She uttered as I stared up at her baffled, "press that red button" she instructed. I smiled and did as she said, hearing the lock of the doors and the double blink of the orange lights. I had clapped my hands, due to my excitement. My parents had never even let me touch the keys to the car, and as stupid as it seemed, I felt privileged that my mother trusted me with doing such a small thing.

After my outburst of excitement we went inside, my mother following behind as I skipped into the kitchen and grabbed some ice cream.
"Is ice cream okay?" I questioned as I stood on my tippy toes, lifting the ice cream into the counter. My mother nodded to this and I then went to grab some bowls.

I always loved ice cream, it was a natural remedy for bad moods and even cures cases of that nasty "flu" we've all magically developed just before we have to go to school.
My mother had been sitting on one of the bar stools across from me. She watched as I scooped ice cream into her bowl, then slide it over to her with a large spoon. I started on mine, making sure I topped it up.
I walked over and crawled up onto a bar stool. I pulled my bowl from the other side of the counter so it was in front of me. I soon began stuffing my face with ice cream, just as my mother had.

There it was again, that silence. It now even more prominent then before. The only sound were the clinking of our spoons with the ceramic bowls. I had vegan to feel uneasy, and my mother could tell. From my frantic eye movement back and forth to her and my bowl, and then the tapping of my finger on the bowl.

"Riley" she said making me turn to her with frowned eyes. She grasped by my hands in hers and gave me a smile, "we need to talk honey" she adds.

For the next hour she had been explaining about how life was, and sometimes we lose things. How we would be angry, upset and confused, and that even when times we chaotic, that it would be okay eventually.
I was confused at why she was saying these things, and how it related to why I was home. She still hadn't gotten to the point, but I could tell she was. The struggle I remember as she explained this was very obvious, yet in my child state I barely understood. Sometimes I wish I could have understood, and maybe helped.

When she told me I didn't completely register, thinking somehow she meant something else. Then I realised she wasn't lying. I could just tell by the way her eyes looked, and somehow relating it to when she told me my grandpa died. It was exactly the same look, and it scared me. To the point where I did the unthinkable, I screamed and told her that it was her fault, then disappeared upstairs.

I told my own mother she had caused something that was out of her control. I felt awful about this, but I didn't know what else to do. I know now that it was wrong of me to blame her, but at the time I felt like I needed to blame someone. Only after did I apologise for what I sat, and my mother forgave me. Saying that she understood why I said what I had said.

My mother thought it was best I stay home for a while, just to cool off and recollect myself. Although I hated the idea, it was a good one. Little did I know I would face some pretty tough decisions once I came back to school. Some of those decisions altering myself as a person and shaping me into the women I would soon be.

Although it was difficult. I found that out on my first day back after my fathers funeral. People acted differently around me, as if I was a fragile piece of glass, and if they said the wrong thing I would break. That was my first indication that my life wouldn't be the same. Then people started ignoring me, and even saying that "we couldn't be friends anymore", which hurt for a while. I then became used to it, as I slowly watched as the friends I knew left one by one. Well except Lara Jean, she had always come over and eat lunch with me.
But in my state of utter solitude I made a friend.

Right before I went back to school, my mother said we should go make ourselves known to the new neighbours, but I refused. Really all I wanted to do was keep to myself, although she convinced me otherwise.
Their names were Julia and Brad Sanderson, and their son, well he wasn't a people person. We were having lunch with them at their home. It was beautiful inside. With heaps of vibrant colours and photos of their family. I had left the porch and wondered around inside, there were so many photos of the family.
I found one of a boy and Mrs Sanderson, her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and he was being kissed on the cheek, a half grossed out expression on his face. I giggled at this, then heard the sound of someone enter the room.
I turned in response with the photo gripped in both hands, only to find it was Mrs Sanderson.

"It's okay, just me" she smiles and walks over. I looked down at the photo and held it up to her.
"Sorry I was snooping, I didn't mean to invade you-" She half laughed making me stop.
"It's fine. Which one do you have?" She questioned as she took the photo. Smiling and then crouched down int front of me.
"That's my son and I" she paused, looking up at me as I held my hands behind my back and swayed side to side slightly, "in fact, would you like to meet him?" I frowned up at her.
"Ahhhh...." I quietly say, then nod slightly. She stood and walked over to the stairs.
"He's up there. I am sure you are grown up enough to go on your own" She states with a smile before proceeding to the porch.

I watched as she disappeared before turning back to the stair case, watching as it somehow looked further away then previously before. I gulped in response before going up the wooden stairs. The wooden slates creaking in sync with each step, 'so much for the element of surprise' I thought as I reached the top. Looking at the top level, seeing three different rooms, the first was empty. The second had heaps of boxes and a bed set up, I assumed it was Mrs & Mr Sandersons room and decide not to go in.
Then I proceeded to the next room, it's door almost closed, and a large 'Keep Out' sign stuck on the door.
'Hmm. Promising' I joked to myself, I then proceeded. Stopping a foot away from the door and knocked.