INTO THE FLAMES

Chapter 6

It's halfway through June now and damn, is it already too hot. Daily high temperatures are already in the high 80s, and it's only bound to get worse. Cannon weather is bipolar; it's either a million degrees or negative a million degrees. There is no such thing as a Happy Medium in weather.

Aria and I fell into a quiet, almost unnoticeable routine; I'd sit on the porch, trying to figure out what to do with my summer portfolio, and she'd take a seat in the chair beside me. Sometimes we'd talk about mom and dad, or even Matt and Detective Branch. Bottom line is that things are getting better. I actually feel like my sister is someone that I can talk to, someone that is silently there without knowing what I'm thinking or me having to tell her.

I swung my legs around the side of the bed to the floor. It was just past nine, and lukewarm air was drifting in through my window. I could hear the neighbors outside, splashing in and out of their pool. Nine hours into the day, but it stretched out in front of us like there was nothing to do at all.

I pulled on a pair of shorts and a soft blue tee shirt, then pulled my hair back into a subtle ponytail. I ever liked wearing my hair up; it made my head look too big. Chucks from the side fall in front of my face now, because I demanded that my hairdresser cut the pieces in the front shorter.

Too bad head sizes can't shrink.

When I stepped into the kitchen, dad was in front of the stove, flipping pancakes. Detective Branch and my mother were on the couch, flipping through magazines. Aria was reading a book at the counter.

"Good morning, darling," dad said when he saw me. He planted a kiss on my temple just as I reached the coffee pot. We seemed so normal then; my sister at the counter, my dad at the griddle, summer tangible outside the window. It was as if nothing had changed.

"Matt was looking for you a few minutes ago," dad said. Instantaneously, confusion hit my face. What could he possibly want at nine in the morning? I mean, he's locked up in this house all summer just because his aunt asked him to and he couldn't say no.

Maybe he has some wild party life that he was dragged away from for the summer and he's recessitating. Maybe there was a girl, or something, and he misses messing around with her and staying up late drinking and listening to music.

Maybe be he misses his life from Before like I do. Or maybe he just misses sex.

Oh, shit. What if he wants me to have sex with him? I mean, what would I say? It would be so awkward if I had to turn him down and he got all weird and shit and then we had to spend the whole summer together.

Okay, he would never ask me to have sex with him. I'm getting way ahead of myself.

I take my coffee and head back to my room to await pancakes. As I put my foot in the doorframe, I hear Matt's door open behind me.

"Morning," he says as I turn to him. As I lean against the door frame, I study him; he's wearing a read tank top with black workout shorts. He has black Nike sneakers in his left hand.

"Where are you off to?" I ask him, taking a sip of my coffee. He smiled, then shift his glance to the floor.

"I was just going for a run, actually," he says. We stand there for a minute in the silence, just looking at each other, trying to make words. To make phrases the way that dad makes pancakes: effortlessly.

"Anyways," Matt says after what feels like hours, "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come? I'm sure you want to get out of this house."

I chuckle softly at his offer then focus my eyes on my coffee. I can see him smiling goofily at me from my peripheral vision.

"That's a sweet offer, a GREAT offer..." I buffer, letting my eyes give a little worried glance at him. His eyebrows furrow, and he steps closer, as if he's going to have to comfort me for something being wrong.

"I'm going to be honest: I don't run."

He laughs then, big and bold and loud. Shaking his head at me, he crosses his arms and leans against his own doorframe.

"That's alright. We can just walk." He cocks his head so that he can see down the hallway. When he knew that no one was coming, he turned back to me.

In a much lower voice, he says "I just need to get out of here. I feel like a prisoner." I laugh a little too loudly at that, my head tilting back and a few giggles escaping. I shook my head, wondering silently what I was signing myself up for.

"I'll be downstairs in five minutes. But we're having pancakes first."