Permanent Scars

A White Lie Still Leaves A Stain

Adam's POV

December 2, Monday. 11:32 p.m.

The walk home was gelid. I'm grateful to finally be home where it's warm and comfortable. Subzero weather just isn't my cup of tea.

Aromas of seasoning hit my nostrils the minute I enter the apartment, shedding my outerwear and sneakers, leaving my beanie on because my ears are still cold. Dylan is seated at the dining table, laptop before him, typing rapidly and staring at the thing like a madman. Must be doing research. I stand across from him, clearing my throat. "Save me anything to eat, Dyl?"

Startled, he glances up and nods. "Uh, yeah. In the kitchen. I'll get it for you."

"Thanks bro."

He gets up and my hands are greeted by a steaming bowl of his famous ramen before I've even traversed halfway through the living room. He nods for me to sit on the couch, and I gladly do so. Mom doesn't usually let us eat in the living room. She must not be home.

Geez, my thoughts are everywhere. Maybe it's just because I'm hungry. Taking up the fork Dyl handed me, I twist a substantial amount of steaming noodles and lift them to my mouth. Mmm, he makes the best ramen. I'm starving. He sits next to me with his own bowl and his laptop. Must be doing homework.

"Whatcha working on?"

"You just got home and you seem really distracted so I'll wait until you're done slurping that down." Dylan looks at me seriously, implying that I'm eating too loudly. Raising an eyebrow, I tone down and swallow silently, setting the bowl and fork down and turning my attention to my brother. I know it bothers him that I can be squirrely. I don't blame him. It bothers me too.

"I'm listening, Dyl Pickle."

"Shut up. Okay. Sorry. Ahem." Coughing into his fist, he clears his throat, staring at his computer screen in utter distress. "I'm gonna ask you some very weird questions and I want you to answer me honestly. Promise you'll pay attention."

Noticing my guitar in its stand just a few paces to the left, I reach for the lovely instrument and touch my fingers delicately over the strings. Gorgeous baby. A tune comes to mind and I almost begin playing, but Dylan kicks my right ankle.

"Dude. Seriously? Now's not the time for music. I need you to focus."

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Just be sure to answer honestly. Ready?"

Holding the guitar tightly, fingers in the G chord position, I nod. "Fire, aim, ready."

"Gosh, boy, you're so backwards-I swear-"

"The questions, Dyl."

"Okay. I want to know just one thing: that girl we Initiated, what's her name and where did you first meet her?"

"That's two things, Dyl."

"Be a smart aleck, why don't you."

"The girl we Initiated, that's Amber."

"And you're sure that's her name?"

"Well...uh...that's her preferred title." Geez, my heart's beating fast. I'm shaking again. I really need to stop drinking energy drinks.

"Why did you tell her that twisted story about your wristband?" He nods at the cursed item and I glare at him, hurt and confused.

"I told her exactly what it's for."

"She says you told her it was because they didn't know who your real parents were."

"I never told her anything like that."