Prophecy

Where to?

"What are you doing?" I ask when I see Mom standing on one of the counters, holding a large pot in her hands she got from the top cupboards. She holds it out to me.

"Hold this while I get down?" I take it out of her hands and she stumbles her way off. "Wow. Not as moveable as I used to be," she takes the dish back and sets it on the stove. "So? How was school?"

"Fine, and just so you know, I'm going over to someone's house to do homework later, so don't wait up." I turn to walk to my room, but Mom stops me.

"How are you going to get there?"

"I thought I would just take a cab or something."

Her face tightens, twisting as if in pain or sympathy. Its not the first time she's looked at me like that. I know just what she's thinking, she shouldn't go out alone. It's not safe, especially for someone like her. But she's a teenager and needs a normal life, she needs it so badly. I know this because that's exactly the argument Dad and her had just before moving here.

"Okay," she says hesitantly. "Just be careful, all right?"

"Yeah, of course."

Mom never brings up my condition, not around me at least, but I think she forgets her eyes speak too. And whenever she thinks about it I can tell, her back goes ridged, the color drains from her already pale face and her eyes get these wrinkles that make her look ten years older. When I see that, a spark of pain shoots through me. Pain for hurting her like that, pain for her getting stuck with a kid who only drains your energy and bank account with her condition.

I push the thoughts from my mind as I close my bedroom door behind me. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I fish it out. A text shows up in my screen from James, I sigh, suddenly not wanting to see him.

I ignore the feeling and put my hair into two messy braids. It only takes me a few minutes to get ready, and head out the door. Turns out James' house isn't too far away from mine, only a short cab ride away.

His house is smaller like all New York homes, light blue and white with a bright red door. I knock and hear shouts from inside, a moment later a woman in her late thirties with streaks of grey in her hair opens the door. You can tell she was beautiful, still is in a way, a bright smile lights up her face and shows more wrinkles than possible.

"Hi. You must be Wyatt. I'm James' mother, come on in and I'll go get him."

I smile shyly and step into the foyer. The sweet smell of pine pours over me and I sit there just breathing it in for a second. The warm aroma comforts me in a way. I take a quick look around. It's a cozy little home.

There are brightly colored walls and little antiques all around the house. An oak staircase is the first thing you see when you enter. The foyer connects with the next room, which is the kitchen. Then I can see a peek of the living room which is on the other side.

A little boy comes running into the foyer. All dark hair and shadows, a lot like James. His face is like any other kid's, still has a little baby fat. "You must be Wyatt. James talks about you a lot, and I mean a lot." I can't help but chuckle at that, but I feel my cheeks warm at the thought.

"Yup that's me and you are..."

"I'm Jackson, James' little brother."

"Well it's nice to meet you Jackson." James and his mom enter and my heart quickens at just the sight of him. He flashes me a smile.

"I hope Jackson didn't annoy you too much," he says while ruffling his little brother's hair.

"He didn't, he was just telling me how much you talk about me." James glares at his little brother and lunges for him, throwing him over his shoulder. Jackson giggles uncontrollably.