Toby to the side >>>
Mom and Blake were at it again downstairs. I could hear them through the walls, arguing over something or other. By the sounds of it, Blake had skipped class for the third time this week to hang out with his friends and girlfriend, Sawyer, and Mom wasn't having it this time.
She'd always been a little on edge. Sometimes I wished she'd be a bit more free spirited or loud like her younger sister, Jenny, or carefree and reckless like her brother, Josh. Technically, the twins were my aunt and uncle, but it was an unspoken rule that I called them my siblings and they did the same for me.
My mom was fifteen years older than the twins, and she had gotten pregnant the first time when she was nineteen. Her parents, my grandparents, had thrown her out of the house and the family, leading Jenny and Josh to believe she never existed. Mom had miscarried baby Kayla, but didn't return to live with them and instead stayed with a friend, my dad.
They married, then had Blake. Three years later, I came along, and had no idea I had any relatives on Mom's side of the family. I was four when Mom went and brought Jenny and Josh to live with us for the first time, Blake was seven. The twins were only twelve, and treated me like I was their little brother, so that's what I ended up telling everyone. The habit stuck, and it's only at times when Mom and Blake fought that I was reminded that they really weren't.
A particularly loud shout from Mom sounded out and I winced, sighing as I grabbed my iPod and shoved it in my front pocket. I pushed open the door to the bedroom Blake and I shared, then made my way down the staircase into the living room. The wood was cold under my bare feet and I wrinkled my nose, heading towards the thermostat.
As I turned down the air conditioning a few degrees, I let my eyes wander over to the picture of Blake, Mom, Dad, and I. Dad had died when I was eight, only five years ago, and I felt the familiar twinge of pain when I remembered receiving the letter telling us he had been shot. They called it defending our country, and I knew he was, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Dead was dead, and whether or not Dad had been doing a noble deed, he wasn't here to tell me about it like he should have been.
I poked my head into the kitchen, where Mom and Blake were glaring at each other. Mom was breathing heavily, her brown eyes dark with anger as she glared at Blake. "Um, hey," I interrupted before they could get into it again. "I'm going to Josh's. Need me to grab anything from the store?"
She turned to look at me, her anger still written in every line of her face. My mom wasn't old, not nearly as old as some of my friend's parents, but the stress that had been placed on her from when she was nineteen had weighed on her.
Her chocolate brown eyes had deep purple bags under them, probably from Blake sneaking out last night, small lines darting out from the corners. Her thick brown hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, a pencil shoved into the elastic, and I noticed she was in just an old pair of Dad's sweats and his sweater.
"Can you grab some milk?" She asked, sighing. I nodded, turning to Blake, but he wasn't looking at me as he glared mutinously at the floor at my mother's feet. "I'll be back later," I said, hovering for a moment. "Anything else?"
"No," Mom turned back to Blake, her shoulders squared like a soldier going into battle.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Toby," she snapped. I sighed, turning away and grabbing my headphones off the counter. The sound of Mayday Parade flowed into my ears as I shoved my feet into my Nikes, the blue faded. I desperately needed new ones, but they weren't within our budget right now.
As I made my way down the street, dodging cyclists and pedestrians, I saw the familiar Harley in the Starbucks parking lot. Stepping inside, I scanned the room, only to hear my name being called. Turning to see Josh with his usual carefree grin on his face as he waved at me, brown eyes sparkling, I smiled. "Hey," I walked towards him, but he sprung to his feet.
