Ryden Oneshots

Conversations With Dead People

“Mom, I don’t think I really –“

“You’re going. You’re not going to get out of this.”

“Mom –“

“Brendon. Go and pack, all right?”

“But mom –“

“Go!”

Brendon turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, making as much noise as he could stomping up the stairs.

“Sorry,” his mother said into the telephone. “I’m sorry I’m sending him to you such a cranky brat. But I have no idea what he’d do here all summer anyway.”

“It’s all right. I have one of those myself,” said her sister. “Mine’s upset that his best friend is spending the summer in Europe.”

“Maybe they’ll entertain each other and minimize the teenage angst,” said Brendon’s mother.

“One can only hope.”

Both women laughed, while upstairs Brendon slammed around his bedroom, throwing things into his suitcase.

***

“Spencer, hurry up!”

“I’m not going!”

“Oh my… Spencer James Smith get down here right now.”

Knowing he was in trouble then, Spencer thudded down the stairs, almost running into his mother at the bottom. His hair was a disaster and he was clearly not dressed for going out in public.

“I swear…” his mother began, then trailed off, shaking her head. “You’re going. Your poor cousin is going to think we’ve forgotten to pick him up at the airport.”

“I don’t really see why I should have to go,” Spencer said. “I mean, I haven’t seen him since we were like, six. It’s not like we’re suddenly going to be best friends or anything. I mean, that was ten years ago.”

“I am not expecting that,” his mother said, and he knew he was in trouble by the tone of her voice. “I am, however, expecting you to make the poor kid feel welcome.”

“Fine,” Spencer said, and marched out of the house and out to the car, wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and his hair a mess. He’d pass it off as styled if anyone asked, even though it was clearly just-rolled-out-of-bed.

***

Brendon was sitting on a bench outside the airport, in front of the arrivals gate, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. He sighed and slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose. They’d forgotten him. He just knew that his mother had told them the wrong time, or it had slipped their minds, and he was going to end up sitting there on that bench until the wee hours of the morning, until they finally remembered him. He hoped that he didn’t get kidnapped and raped or something. He was cute, it could totally happen. He sighed and tapped his fingertips against his cheek.

“Is that him?” Spencer asked, pointing at the bored-looking kid sitting on a bench, one huge suitcase sitting next to him. Spencer’s mother squinted.

“I think so,” she said, and pulled over, pulling the car to a stop in front of the boy. He looked up, and yes, this was obviously her sister’s son. Same eyes. “Help him with his bag.” Spencer shot his mother a dirty look before opening the door.

“Brendon, right?” Spencer said. He wasn’t about to let some strange kid into his mom’s car. He could’ve been a serial killer. Well, he could still be a serial killer. Spencer was kind of unclear on why Brendon’s mother was sending him away for the summer anyway.