Sparks Fly

Chapter 7

Sparks Fly

Chapter 7

Ever since making the decision of sneaking out, I’ve become nervous and unable to focus when anyone talks to me. I just give them a simple nod, showing my disinterest. All I can think about is the flickering light bulb and the sharp shards of glass scattered over the wooden floor. The image of the warehouse lingers in my head as I fling a dart onto the dartboard silently. Even when I win, I’m unenthusiastic.

“Good game,” Cliff says, placing a hand in my hair, ruffling it on the way. I stare blankly at him with my pale eyes. He pinches my cheek playfully before walking off into the kitchen, probably to wash up.

“It was just a lucky shot,” Lorcan smirks, obviously offended by my winning. “Ace could’ve won easily. Too bad he wasn’t playing.”

“Hey,” Ace shouts quickly with Isabel sitting next to him. “She’s good. Don’t deny it.”

“Thanks,” I say flatly, walking numbly towards the room. My eyes examine the room until they catch my suitcase. I creep towards it, throw it open, and grab essentials.

By five minutes, they’re hidden furtively under the couch’s sofa.

Perfect.

Just as the digital clock in the only room strikes ten, I flinch. Instead of hearing Cliff call everyone to sleep, he merrily sings, “Truth Tuesday. Get here, everyone.” I poke my head from the room curiously. “You too, Tristen.”

My knees are crossed as I rock back in forth in thought on the carpeted floor.

When will I be able to go? I need to go before the weather gets bad again. I groan internally as I watch everyone take their seats. In no time, we’re sitting in a perfect circle. Isabel sits right across from me. I place my chin on my palm and listen.

“Tristen, this is a weekly game where we tell something secret about ourselves. It’s easy and fun,” Cliff says, grinning. I nod, taking in what he said. “Ace, your turn first.”

Ace stiffens, looks at Isabel, then back at us.

“I find younger chicks attractive,” Ace admits, nuzzling Isabel.

“Lorcan.”

“I kissed a boy in first grade; don’t hold it against me. Everyone made me!”

“And you remember this because . . . ?” Cliff laughs. Lorcan doesn’t answer. Cliff clears his throat. “Isabel.”

“Curtains piss me off.”

“Jordan.”

“Green is ugly.”

“Tristen.” I jump up slightly at my name. Am I supposed to tell them something weird? I get the idea but not the point. Is it to bond or something? I don’t hold back and answer.

“I have a bellybutton piercing,” I shrug. Ace’s mouth drops. Cliff smiles wickedly at me, and Jordan gives me a disgusted glare.

“Prove it,” Lorcan orders with a tense look.

I roll my eyes before lifting my shirt a bit, exposing my dangling, cherry piercing. It gleams in the flickering lights. The memory of getting it pierced makes me smile.

“Hot,” Ace says, giving me an approving nod. “That’s one point up.” He gives me a thumbs-up, and I act perfunctorily to his gesture.

“How about you, Cliff?” Jordan murmurs. He shifts uneasily, placing his long leg on the weak, wooden table in the middle of the living room. He scratches his chin then speaks.