CAT FIGHT

"Lily, would you please find some chips? I think they're in aisle five." Lily's mom asks, nodding behind her.

"Of course," she replies, picking up some snacks on the way.

There are some workers at their house right now, so Lily had to come with her mom and her brother to the grocery store. She taps her fingers along the shelves, looking for the baked potato chips her mom needs. She snatches a bag of barbecue chips along with it and starts to walk back when a loud crash makes her jump.

She runs out of the aisle and finds her mom and a random lady shouting at each other, all of the items in her mother's cart on the floor. She starts to pick everything up and put them back in the cart with the help of her brother, hoping the other lady won't notice her.

"How dare you?!" the woman shouts, stabbing a finger at Lily's mom.

"How dare you?!" her mom barks back, pushing the lady's finger away.

They launch into this massive argument, which moves way past simply knocking into each other's carts. Soon they begin to compare mothering styles, and that's when Lily tunes them out.

Lily's brother, Neil, tugs on their mother's arm as Lily turns the cart around, wishing that the people gathering around them would start to disperse. Her mother soon backs away and starts to follow them to the cash register, where she furiously pays for the groceries and storms out of Wal-Mart as if it's the worst place in the world.

"Mom, what happened back there?" Lily asks regretfully, knowing she will rant on and on about it until they reach home, where their mother will continue to vent her feelings to herself when her and Neil will eventually lock themselves in their rooms to escape from her.

She puts a hand on her mother's, and immediately an avalanche of thoughts floods her mind. It's so loud and painful that she lets go right away, not wanting to listen anymore. But, she can't stop her from saying them out loud.

"This know-it-all, stuck-up, self-centered—" she keeps piling more and more adjectives on for the next fifteen minutes, and continues adding them once they arrive at home.

A large moving van is parked outside of the house next door, and they have twice as many workers as theirs do. Lily's mom pays the workers while grumbling more adjectives under her breath, and they leave quickly.

Lily runs upstairs to start on her homework. She sighs. Middle school was much easier, but now that she's in the ninth grade, her homework load has doubled. After annotating three chapters of A Tale of Two Cities, her brain is fried. She can still barely hear her mother's comments through the vent, which is conveniently under her desk. Great.

That night, her dad comes home with an angel cake, suggesting that they offer it to their new neighbors. Lily's mom appears to be doing better by now, only channeling her anger towards the carrots she is cutting for dinner.

Right after they eat, they head out into the cold March night. In Chicago, it takes a while for the coldness of the winter to fade away. The cool air slices through their thin jackets as they approach the door.

A man in his mid-forties opens the door and beams at them. "Wow, that looks amazing! Come in, all of you!"

They take their shoes off and follow him into the kitchen, where a little girl who is probably in first or second grade is sitting, kicking her feet against the edge of her seat and smiling sweetly at them. "Hi!" She waves, and they wave back.

"Hey, Honey, look! The neighbors brought us some yummy cake," the man says, holding it out to his wife, whose back is to him, as she puts away plates.

"What?" she wonders, turning around.

And that's all it takes.

"You!"

"You!"

The man's wife drops the plate she is holding and turns to glare at them, the same exact glare she gave at the grocery store.

"Oh, God…" Lily mumbles, turning around to see her brother already having a conversation with the little girl.

They're really going at it, shouting at the tops of their lungs at each other so loud that she's surprised the ceiling above them doesn't collapse. A tap on her shoulder makes her jump, and the man is leaning down and whispering in her ear, "I have a son around your age upstairs. Why don't you go up and introduce yourself? It'll give you a chance to escape this little cat fight." He chuckles, and she smiles gratefully.

Lily can tell which one is his room, since it's the only one where beautiful music is pouring out of that is loud enough to hear over all of the screaming. She knocks on the door, and there's a rough, "Come in," from inside.

She walks in and sees him bent over his beanbag chair, scribbling notes down. He then turns back to his guitar and strums the chords, testing to see if the harmony is right. He doesn't even acknowledge Lily's presence, much less realize that their mothers are currently screaming at the tops of their lungs in the kitchen.

"Umm, I'm Lily," she says, clearing her throat.

He looks up at her. "Jake," he mutters, going back to his music.

"So, where'd you come from?" she asks, trying to make small talk. Lily is bad at small talk. She's very shy.

"Michigan."

She nods, taking in the curtain of bronze hair draped over his eyes as he bends down to strum some more chords. His sea-blue eyes stare intently at the fingerboard as if inspiration will come to him by doing just that. He dresses the same as every other guy in the world dresses—as if they don't care what they look like as long as they're comfy. But, Jake makes it work for him.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asks, making her snap out of zoning out.

"My parents wanted to give you an angel cake, but our moms started having a cat fight downstairs. They met earlier at Wal-Mart."

"Oh, so you're the stuck-up, self-centered family she's been going on about all day?" Jake groans, putting his guitar down. "Do you know how long I had to listen to her grumbling to herself?"

Lily laughs. "Like I didn't have to go through the same thing?"

He shrugs. "Where do you live?"

Lily moves her eyes to the far side of the wall. "Right next door."

"Cool." It becomes very awkward for a minute as they stare at different parts of the empty room. The only thing in it is his bed, a couple of boxes, two beanbag chairs, and—of course—his guitar.

"So, what are you writing?" Lily wonders, taking a seat on the beanbag chair next to him.

"A song."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, duh. I mean can I hear it?"

He hesitates, glancing from her to the music, and back to her again. After a while, he says, "Nope."

"Why not?"

"It's personal, all right? Besides, I don't even know you. But, you're free to watch me work on it if you want."

She grimaces. "Thanks," she says sarcastically. He goes back to his guitar, and for a moment, their feet are touching.

When's she gonna leave? he thinks rudely.

Lily, already used to such thoughts, gets up and leaves without a word. Jerk, she thinks to herself. At the bottom of the staircase is a bunch of football trophies with Jake O'Shea written on the plaque.

Figures. He's a jock.

Lily's parents are already halfway out the door. She follows quickly, not wanting to be left behind. One thing's for sure: she's never coming back here again.