A/N: This one is for danceangel95 because she's turning sweet sixteen in eleven minutes. Also, because she's my only sibling that loves me enough to read this. Thanks for kayaking with me today! Love you!

Also, she has a story called Finding Ri that is pretty dang well written. It's only a couple chapters so far. Go read it if you like fantasy, orphans with amnesia, and magical shrubs.

Chapter 14: False Fits

I looked over my shoulder to see Anton as close to cowering as I’d ever seen him, pressed against the wall. My velvety dance pants, the ones my father had given me, were practically grafted to his skin. But I only saw that for a moment, because Dad’s hands quickly left my shoulders to shield my innocent eyes.

“I-I-I’m sorry S-sir,” Anton stuttered. “My pants got…d-damaged.”


Landon was laughing so hard that he was slapping his knees. Literally. I could hear it.

“I’d think you might have noticed that they had shrunk before you came into my home,” my dad replied tersely.

“N-n-no, Sir. These aren’t the pants I was wearing when I c-c-came.”

This stuttering version of the knife wielding blackmailer was much less intimidating. Once I’d talked Anton into helping me, I hadn’t credited him with being dangerous. But downstairs in the closet, with Saran Man, and his switch blade and calm threats, I reassessed that idea.

He was good. Really good. He wore whatever mask each situation required. I doubted he was scared of my dad, but just acting like it because any regular teenage guy would be. And right now, being a regular teenage guy would be the most useful cover. Maybe I’m over estimating him, but I’d rather do that then make the mistake of doing the opposite.

“Why aren’t you wearing the pants you left your house in?” Dad demanded, his pitch rising.

Um, I think it’s safe to say Dad misunderstood Anton.

“Daddy,” I know I’m a little old to call him that, but it seems to calm him down for some reason. “Anton was dressed very appropriately when he came here, but he fell on a broken hockey stick, and it poked a hole all the way through his pants. I couldn’t get into Abe’s room to let him borrow a pair of his.”

I didn’t even have to lie to my dad. I tried to gently push the hands from my eyes, but he just clamped them tighter. I sighed. Then Abe spoke up.

“That hockey stick is in the sports closet. What were you doing in there?” Shut up Abe! “Were you in there with Jade?”

Oh my word. This was so not happening. I really don’t need my dad and brother thinking that Anton is some kind of pervert out to take away my innocence—especially because he’s technically my ally, and I might need him around a lot in the next few days. That might prove difficult if Dad puts a restraining order on him. Seriously. He’s done it before for a lesser offense.  

“No!” I yelled. “Oh my gosh, no! I mean, yes I was in there, but we weren’t alone. Landon was in there too.”

I tried once again to remove Dad’s fingers from blocking my eyesight, but he didn’t budge.

“Landon? I thought better of you boy. You’d better explain yourself. Now.”

Landon’s laughing finally stopped. He seemed incapable of speaking.

He’s probably trying to come up with a story that would cover all our bases, which included Anton’s presence, his pants, the destruction zone in the closet, and possibly traces of blood and lemonade.

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