Chapter Two- Alone

Baillie

His parents had died in a car crash. And they had apparently been friends with my mum, years ago. My mum was to be Sam’s guardian if anything happened and when they fell apart the will hadn’t been changed. Until my mum can get things fixed, Sam has to stay with us.

God, save me! He’ll probably want his friends over to comfort him.

Luckily we had an old bed in the garage. So I had to haul it upstairs, and then set it up in my room, while mum explains everything to dad. Sam stood back, just looking out the window, seeing nothing.

“There you go, I’ll give you my spare sheets” I state, not looking at him, just fetching the material and making the bed for him. He runs a hand through his styled blonde hair. I look around my room. Trying to see it through a stranger’s point of view. Solid, dark wooden bed in the corner, dingy wardrobe, that’s door wouldn’t close, set of drawers, desk covered in papers and my couch-seat under my window covered in clothes. Basically, everything made my room look like a dump. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s thinking. There’s nothing wrong with my house, it’s homey, thought humble.

I walk over to my desk, quickly pulling the papers into a pile. I open the bottom draw with difficulty, shoving the papers inside and kicking it closed. Sam’s still looking out the window. I pick up his suit case and place it next to his bed. It creaks in protest at the slightest nudge.

“You better not be a restless sleeper” I mutter. Then something happened that I would never be prepared for. Sam Brook just collapsed, fell to his knees, face in hands, sobs racking his body.

Holy. Awkward. Moment.

“Mum!” I cry out, walking to my door. My mother runs to me, her watery eyes questioning. I open my door wider so she can see the crying boy.

“Oh dear” my mum coos. She enters my room and wraps her arms around his shaking shoulders. I take this as my time to leave. I quickly sneak past my parent’s room, not wanting to wake my father from his mid day nap.

Stalking out the backdoor, I head over to our old weather beaten fence. Years of jumping this fence had taught me exactly where to jump and that you had to be fast, otherwise planks would snap. I learnt that the hard way; breaking my wrist. And not because of me falling off the fence, more because I broke it. Never knew the old fence meant so much to my dad.

Landing on the other side I frown. I never understood why Ms. Nancy loved flowers so much. Everywhere you look there are bright, brilliant smelling flowers, all in yellows, pinks and purples.

“Lee!” Ms. Nancy calls out. I turn towards the house, smiling sheepishly. Ms. Nancy was about forty or so and used her house as a day-care centre, sold her flowers to florists and until I was eight, raised me whenever my dad was at home. “I thought I told you to stop jumping that fence! You’re too big now! You could hurt yourself!” She wailed, pulling me into a bone crushing hug before dusting me off with a disapproving huff.

“I’ll be fine Ms. Nancy” I mumble.

“It’s Nancy or Ms. Bell. Make-up your mind” she sniffs, raising an eyebrow in mock threat.

“Talking about make-up, where’s Tiff?” Without waiting for the reply I head into the house and up the stairs. I walk over to a glossy white door and knock out a short beat.

“I saw you jump the fence, no need for the knock” Tiffany calls from inside. I slowly enter.

“The knock is necessary ever since that time I walked in on you in your…birthday suit” I shudder involuntarily.

“Yeah, I remember that, it took us ten minutes to shut you up about the evils of my hot pink birthday dress” she snorts, coming out of the en suite bathroom. I roll my eyes upon seeing the head of curlers.

Tiffany was Nancy’s foster child. We had been best friends for six years, since we were ten. And for all those years she had wanted to be a beautician. She’d be one of those ones that even if nothing needed to be done, you’d go again and again because she’d listen to you and remember everything you’ve said, then give you advice…not to mention actually being good at what she did.

Her big blue eyes fell on me suspiciously. “What’s wrong?” she sighed, gracefully sitting down on her heart covered bed. I flop down next to her and spill out the morning events.

“Bay, Bay, Bay. Lee, Lee, Lee. Baillie, Bail-”

“Stop stalling!” I snap, cutting off her silly rambling. Tiffany glares.

“Fine! You’re being selfish! Thinking about how bad it is for you. What about this Sam, his parents just died! He’s all alone. Try comforting him. Maybe you might even make a friend who goes to your school, and you won’t be such an angry little nigel! She grounds out, looking almost disgustedly, making me feel guilty. I often forget that Tiffany is only a foster child, that both her parents died too, that she has her own problems, which are likely worse then mine.

Upon seeing my guilty expression she sighs again and pulls me into a hug. “Come on Will, the T.V. awaits”

“Okay Grace” I smile and walk down the stairs after her.

Sam

Kira pulled me into a warm hug, lifting me off the floor and onto the seat under the window, ignoring the clothes we were sitting on; she pulled me closer into her body. I see Baillie walk across the lawn with his shoulders hunched. Fate must be laughing her head off after this stunt. Placing me with the one kid in school who hates me. He jumps the back fence with ease.

“What’s up?” Kira whispers in my ear.

“They’re… gone” I mumble

“They are” comes the quiet reply “but not forgotten”

“Never forgotten,” I affirm “B-but now I’m all…alone” I stammer slightly, feeling the tears coming again.

“Only if you want to be” then the tears came and I was slowly rocked.

Since I heard last night, I was just so shocked, I had fallen to my knees, trying to process the information. Then everything was a blur, nothing registered. Nothing until Baillie mentioned sleeping. It hit me then. My parents weren’t going to miraculously appear and make everything good. My parents were dead, deceased, departed, no more…gone.

We sat for hours. Till the digital clock next to my bed went from 12:15 to &:46. The whole time just sitting in a delicate embrace, watching the day go by and waiting for my tears to dry up. Kira just helping me take it all in. Accept it.

Finally Baillie jumped the fence again, looking much more cheerful. God I envy him. He disappears from view and that’s when my calm reservoir was broken. All I could hear was things breaking and gruff yelling. The arms around me tightened as Kira’s nails dug into my skin.

“Kira?” I turn to look at her. Her bright green, red rimmed eyes shined with shame and strangely enough; pride. I hear footsteps heading up the stairs.

“Zoe, what’s happened?” Kira called out. Through the door I hear the steps stop.

“Baillie nudged Dad’s chair, he’s such a buffoon” a girl laughed and the footsteps continued. Then the yelling stops and rushed steps come up the stairs again.

“I’ll just get you something to eat” and with that Kira bolted to the door. Opening it quickly before rushing out and closing it again. Leaving me clueless. “Baillie let me see it!” I hear a shrill cry.

“Mum, I’m fine. I’m gonna have a shower” Baillie grounds out. Then it was quiet again. Ten minutes later and Kira drops in a bowl of noodles, leaving before I could ask what happened.

After setting down the now empty bowl, I slowly change into boxers and a jumper, and sat back down on the window seat, watching the stars.

I wasn’t stupid. It was obvious at school that he got into some sort of trouble, to have obtained all those bruises. And from what I just heard, it was his father. But why would his sister laugh at that and why didn’t Kira do anything about it?

Baillie was a son and brother, so he wasn’t alone in this, he had people to stick up for him and protect him. Yet no did.

Not even me.

Why wasn’t I able to stand up for him at school? Was it because I didn’t know him? No, no matter who it is you should stand up for someone’s rights. Was it because they were my friends? Partly. But I think it was because I was shocked, but not only that…I was scared. Which makes me sound like the biggest pansy. Which means it’s even worse that his family wouldn’t do it. What kind of people were they that they wouldn’t stick up for their own flesh and blood?

And I’m stuck with them.

I look up as I hear the door open. Baillie walks in, towel around his waist, and head downcast. Yet again I get a full view of bruises. Most fading, but there was a fresh one forming on stomach. Easily spotted on his pale skin. He ignores my presence completely as he walks over to the small wardrobe. The bookcase that occupied the area of my bed had been wedged between the door and the wardrobe, and though it acted slightly like a screen it didn’t for fill its job. Not that it mattered, as he was able to get dressed without moving the towel an inch.

“Hey” I attempt, getting a soft grunt in response. He walks over to the desk at the foot of my bed in black sweat pants and a worn green t-shirt, still not meeting my gaze. He sits quietly, apparently drawing. Yet again I can’t help but watch him. He holds himself strongly and with purpose, and that intrigues me.

I look at the tufted black hair that’s fallen in front of his face. My friends would call it emo hair or something like that. Suddenly he turns towards me, a new bruise just under his eye. His eyes lock with mine, an unsaid threat located in the teal depths. Just as suddenly…he leaves the room, only to return minutes later with two cups of hot chocolate. Handing one too me while grinding his teeth. Almost as if he was forced into it.

He’s a strange one.

Eventually it’s time for bed. He looks at me and after I nod he turns out the light. Walking across the dim room and hauling himself into his own bed. I begin to doze. I see photos of my parents, and slowly…they’re burning. Turning to ash. I sit up quickly. Now even in my sleep I have to get reminders that they’re gone?

“You alright? Do you need my mum again?” comes the sleep-ridden voice to my right.

“No, I’m fine” I slowly lay back “It’s just hard to get used too. I mean, they left me alone, at least they were together when they…died” I mumble back. I hear a snort and look over. All I can see is two fluorescent teal orbs before he rolls over angrily. There’s a long pause where I settle down. The bed creaking with every movement.

“Everyone dies alone” There was no more talking that night.