The Trouble with Evie

Chapter 5

Waking to a new day, I smiled despite the annoyance at being stuck in this town. It was Sunday, and that meant that I could use Brad's computer to play games.

Pouncing down the stairs, I inhaled the delicious scent of pancakes. The lovely couple at the bed and breakfast were more than happy to feed us last night and even sent us away with a breakfast basket. They searched and found a brochure that used to be given out to new residents. It had the opening hours, which were standard for all businesses.

Our window for grocery shopping was small, and once breakfast was over, Brad was going to do the shopping.

"Parcel arrived for you this morning."

Sliding up to the breakfast bar, I pulled the package closer to me. It was wrapped in brown paper and twine, seemingly soft on top with a hard chunkiness to the bottom.

"From who?"

"The school. Apparently, it's enough to get you through the doors tomorrow. You'll need to see the lady at reception about your sports uniform."

"They cannot be serious. I am not doing sports."

"I get the feeling that you're not going to get a lot of choices."

Huffing loudly, I pulled the twine and opened the package. The uniform was simple. A white shirt with sleeves to the elbow, matched with a deep blue skirt that went to the knees. White socks and that chunkiness were the black shoes. All of the sizes were correct, which made me a little uneasy.

"Did they ask you for my sizes?"

"No, and if they did, I wouldn't know what to tell them."

"Then they are definitely weird."

Brad flipped the pancake onto the plate, making a two-stack of fluffy yumminess. He then turned to put it in front of me. The package of creepiness was pushed aside for the plate of deliciousness. I had to use the syrup sparingly as there was nothing else on offer. It was better than nothing, which was the alternative.

One of Brad's pancakes was already cooking. He had two frypans going. The man clearly liked to do the dishes. When he returned to the stove, the second pancake was slopped into the frypan. I had to give him credit. It was undoubtedly an excellent way to get pancakes onto the plates in an efficient time.

We didn't have a dining table. Life was spent with a meal in front of the television, not the greatest, but it was how we did things. It suited us, and to be perfectly honest, it was a complete improvement on what life used to be like with my mother. She might have made dinner before leaving for the street corner. If she did, there was a limit on what she did for me. I don't recall a time when we had dinner together.

Breakfast was often spent with me in front of the television, watching the morning cartoons, then being yelled at for making too much noise. She was trying to sleep, and I was a nuisance. Lunch was the only meal that we spent together, and that was just the weekends. That is if she didn't decide to hit the street for a little early afternoon trade.

One would think that with all the time she spent on the street, we would have been rolling in money. I have no idea what she did with it. Food was always in the cupboard, but it was always a generic brand, and what was in there was limited.

So, moving in with Brad had been a bit of a shock. Having him around all the time was just as bad and took some time to get used to. I could have said that I was used to being alone, and I might have done that quite regularly, but it was always done with a lot of hesitation. I wanted Brad to be at home with me. I wanted company. A parental figure that guided me through life rather than leaving me alone for hours.