Page 13 of Saints & Sailors

Up in my room, I stood in the middle of the floor, examining my surroundings and feeling antsy. Back home, I’d be preparing to get into something with the guys. I sometimes ditched school on Mondays, but now none of that would be possible. At least not until I found some trouble, and trouble was exactly what I needed to survive this dump.

The curtains to my bedroom window were pulled back and the blinds were up, exposing me to our neighbor’s house.

Directly across from my window, I could see into the room next door. A boy’s room, as seconds later I spotted Dreux making his way inside. From my view, all I could see was his bed, the edge of a dresser, and an acoustic guitar.

He noticed me as well and froze.

His eyes remained fixed on me, as if he were fascinated by what he saw. Dark eyes bore into mine, freezing me in place. The longer he stared, the more something in me stirred.

I didn’t know what pissed me off, but I just was.

Feeling the anger build, I made a middle finger and lifted it. Dreux’s face turned blank. He blinked once and looked elsewhere before walking away entirely.

I pulled my blinds down and closed my curtains, letting out a sigh.

I went and fell face first into my bed.

I was going to die.

The smell of breakfast wafted throughout the house Monday morning, waking me up and calling to my hunger. Bacon, eggs, and something sweet.

As much as I didn’t want to get out of bed, I was too geeked to have something homemade. The pizza Scott had ordered the night before had been great, but this was probably better.

Finally, something homecooked.

I took the steps one at a time, slowly making my way down to the kitchen.

Scott was singing to himself, an old record by The Beatles. His vocals weren’t bad. I almost wanted to ask if he did backup singing for his band, but then I didn’t want to get too personal.

Scott had two plates at the counter on the pass-through window and two stools pulled out, like some sort of bonding date.

That was not about to happen.

With his back to me, I swooped in and grabbed a plate and sat at the dining room table.

The clinking of the porcelain hitting the table elicited Scott’s attention. He faced the counter, expecting to see me, and then confusion set in.

He searched until he found me.

Scott looked at me, rewarding me with a peppy smile. “Saylor Moon! You’re up.”

I paused. “Saylor what?”

Scott went a little bashful. “I, uh, used to call you that when your mom was pregnant.”

“It’s just Saylor, Scott.”

He bobbed his head, focusing down on his skillet. “Let me get you some orange juice, or perhaps cranberry, apple?”

I forked my eggs. “Does it come with vodka?”

Scott’s silence forced me to look over and find him frowning. He set his skillet down, facing me as he placed his hand on his hip. “You will not be drinking in this house. Or smoking, that goes for cigarettes and bud.”

I rolled my eyes.

But then I saw a way out. Scott didn’t know me, couldn’t handle me, and all it would take was some fun to make him see how this whole endeavor was a big mistake.

One trip to LA, here I come.