Touch: Saving Ai | ✓

10

Hobbes was gone when I woke up. My bedroom door was ajar and the smell of cooking batter wafted through the house.

'Mum...?' I clapped a hand over my mouth. The word had slipped out before I could stop it. Stupid. Of course it wasn't her. She was dead and buried. It obviously wasn't Ryo, and Dad could barely figure out how to make toast in the morning, let alone work the stove. So, who was making pancakes?

My muscles ached as I rolled out of bed. My stomach hurt the most, bruised fibres of muscle sending ripples of agony throughout my nervous system whenever I moved. My face was next – the bruise on my jaw still swollen and tender. It was probably purple by now, but I didn't bother to check a mirror as I headed for the stairs.

Hobbes had heard me stirring and waited for me at the bottom, tongue hanging out and tail wagging happily as I slowly made my way down to give him a scratch between the ears. 'Who's here, boy?'

He barked in response and bounded off. Curious, I followed him.

For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. There was a woman in my kitchen. My mother's old pink floral apron was wrapped around her, protecting her red turtleneck and worn grey jeans from being made into a mess, and her curly brown hair was knotted high into a bun. For the second time today, I almost said 'Mum' – but this time I caught myself.

Swallowing, I corrected my brain and got my mouth to say the right name. 'Aunt Linda?' I asked.

She raised her hand in greeting, attention focused on her frypan. 'Plates,' she said, sticking out a hand.

'Uh – '

'Morning, Evelyn,' said someone else. Theodore Doukas, Aunt Linda's twenty-year-old son, stuck his head out from behind the door of one of the island counter's cupboards. He winced when he saw my face. 'Ouch. Who'd you get in a fight with?'

'Um... yeah.' I suddenly wished I'd taken the time to get dressed. Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, 'Hi?'

'Plates,' interrupted Aunt Linda, waving her hand.

Theo sighed. 'Yes, Mum, I know. This isn't our house though.' He gave me a sheepish look. 'Plates?'

'Behind you, upper cupboard on your right.'

'Ta.'

Moving back towards his mother, Theo extracted the plates and put them on the counter with a clatter that made me grimace. Brow furrowed in concentration, Aunt Linda unloaded the pan full of steaming hot pikelets onto the first two. Without a word, she doused them in fresh lemon juice and loaded each one with a small pile of sugar.

Finally, she looked at me. Her dark brown eyes locked onto my face, but unlike Theo's, her expression refused to give away her thoughts.

Frightening.

'Here,' she said, offering me the plate.

'Thanks...'

I took it from her and frowned, unsure of her intent.

She raised her brow. 'Are you going to eat it standing up? Sit. Eat.' With that, she set about pouring the next round of batter.

Theo also raised a brow – at her, not at me – but didn't say anything. He knew better than that. Picking up his own plate, he gestured for me to follow. With Hobbes at my heels, we left the open kitchen. But instead of sitting at the dining table, Theo rounded the corner into the living room to take a seat in Ryo's usual spot on the sofa instead. Propping his feet up on the coffee table, he gestured for me to sit.

Hobbes let out a growl.

I agreed. What happened to 'this isn't our house though'?

As I opened my mouth to say something, Aunt Linda shouted from the other room, 'Feet down, Theodore!'