Chapter 8

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☆Blaze☽

Chapter 8:

"Elliot?" Mom called as I opened the front door. It wasn't too late at night, probably a bit past nine, but I cursed to myself silently. How had I just walked through the front door? Obviously she would be waiting for me to come home so she could yell at me for getting suspended.

I didn't answer, and tried to pull off my shoes and creep over to the stairs before she came.

"Elliot!" She was standing in the hallway in her blue, floral nightgown. Her hair looked like birds were nesting in it, and her arms were crossed over her chest.

"Mom, listen, I-"

"I can't believe you got suspended! What kind of people are you involved with? Huh? I told you to make friends, not-" Her eyes caught on my opened shirt, and in an instant she was trying to get a look at my battle wounds while I batted her away.

"Mom, stop! It's just a scratch!"

"If it's just a scratch than why can't you show me?"

"Because I'm a man, I can take care of myself." I think that might have just been the most stupid thing I ever said. Me, a man. Ha. Never the less, she backed up, her lips still pursed.

"Beth? Is everything okay?" I heard the familiar voice, the one I hadn't heard in weeks. He had a faint Irish accent, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking for it.

"Dad?" I smiled as I saw him appear from the basement, he looked exactly the same. His dark hair and grey eyes. But yet, he looked completely different. Worn, and tired.

"Hey, El." He stepped forward and hugged me, and I hissed as pain ran through my side. I wasn't a very affectionate person; I tried to avoid hugs at all costs. But I decided that I would make an exception since I hadn't seen him in a long time.

"Yeah, everything's fine, Owen. Just explaining what a curfew is to our son." I stared at her in confusion, why would she lie? She could have jumped at the opportunity to tell my father, and he wouldn't have talked to me until he went away on his next business trip. She knew she could, but she didn't. And I didn't understand why.

"He's almost eighteen, Beth. Go easy on him." He ruffled my blonde hair; not paying any attention to the fact my uniform shirt was wide open. I smiled at him before I turned and made my way upstairs. When I passed my mother, she sent me a look that said she wasn't going to let this go.

I went into the bathroom first, admiring the mark left by the firework. It was red and swollen, but didn't look to horrible. It would definitely bruise. I shed my shirt and ran the face cloth under cold water, holding it to my side.

When I opened my bedroom door, Hayden was there. Spinning in my desk chair like a small child. I was just starting to get annoyed at this point, I couldn't catch a break.

"What are you doing in here? You might catch the gay."

He stared at me; a momentary look of emotion passed his face. I didn't know if it was hurt or some strange compassion, but I chose to ignore it.

"Didn't know you had it in you, bro." He drawled out bro strangely, and then a bag went sailing from his hand, bouncing off me and landing on the ground. I groaned as I instantly recognized it.

"Weed, huh? And you don't even share." Hayden fake pouted as I picked the bag off the hardwood floor, tucking it back into my underwear drawer.

"What the hell were you doing in my room?!" He shrugged and grinned at me, lifting himself up from the seat.

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