Celadon Bay - Book One

Dodging trouble

Three more days pass, and I'm proud to say I don't break any other rules. This was possible due to two major facts: one, I'm really good at being silent; it probably sounds completely unrelated, but trust me, it isn't. Two, I'm actively avoiding Martin. That last part is easy to do during the morning; Martin sleeps like a dead log well beyond noon. I have more than enough time to (a) get supplies and (b) sneak into my parents' bedroom. Once there, I lock myself up until hunger and physiological urges become an issue I can't ignore.

Never mind the fact that my parents have a room of their own and I don't. Let's just not go there for the time being.

Today's menu includes half a loaf's worth of ham sandwiches, which I masterfully arrange in a perfect mountain on the biggest plate I can find, a slice of chocolate cake, and the thing I love most about Uncle Owen's house: the lower shelf of the fridge is always full of Coke cans. I grab two of them and I'm tempted to grab some chips as well, but the packets crinkle too loudly and could give away my position.

Thank goodness the house is empty most of the time; it makes things a lot easier. Both Mom and Dad are working full-time at Uncle Owen's Pizzeria, along with Uncle Owen himself and Aunt Sugar. Alex is a kind of shadow that roams freely; he usually rides his bike early in the morning and doesn't reappear until dinner, when, more often than not, he just showers and leaves again. Rinse and Repeat.

Usually, by the time Martin wakes up, Aunt Sugar is either home fixing lunch, or done with it and back to the restaurant. Martin hangs around for a bit, but he usually leaves the house most afternoons, and I don't even care where he goes or what he does. I'm sure it's trouble.

As is now usual, I carry my stuff to my parents' room, I close the window blinds, and sit down on Mom's thingy: a little table where women keep their makeup and stuff. I have to carefully push away 'the stuff' to make room for the laptop I got for Christmas. I'd wanted a desktop computer so I could upgrade it later, but Mom ignored me and got me a laptop instead, saying I could take it to school or the library if I had to. Sure, like I'm actually going to do any of that. Anyway, it turns out it fits perfectly on Mom's table, so now I'm glad she got it.

While it boots up, I grab a sandwich. The door swings open as I'm taking the first bite, and I can just make out a grumpy-looking Martin (sporting severe bed-head) glaring at me like I owe him something. I wonder if this means my hideout is gone. I decide to stay silent; the one thing I excel at.

"What the fuck, dude?" Martin says.

I don't reply. I'm not one-hundred percent sure what he means by the comment, so I play dumb, offering my mountain of sandwiches to him, and take another bite.

"What the hell is that? I can't see shit," he says, turning on the lights. "Is that ham?"

I nod, pushing the plate a little closer to him. He scratches his head and grabs one.

"There's Coke, too," I inform him.

"Why?"

"Because I get thirsty."

"Not that, you moron," he grumps, stuffing a huge piece of the sandwich in his mouth before adding, "Why are you always stuck in here?"

"Oh, right" So, he knew. I can't tell him the truth, can I? That I'm actually avoiding him? I suppose I can't. "I just like this room," I say. "It's quiet, and the Wi-Fi signal is strong."

He places a hand over his chest. "Wait. Hold that thought."

He leaves the room, and ten seconds later he's back, carrying a ketchup bottle. He smears some all over what's left of his sandwich before stuffing his face again. Then he tosses the bottle at me as he chews, gesturing for me to try it. I toss him one of my cans of Coke.