The Cunning

Chapter 4; Home

Gillian dropped her bag in the foyer, depending on Jenny to close the front door, and headed for the phone. She froze, the device missing from the receiver on the floor. She looked up, spotting her mother who was standing in the kitchen unpacking a box of dinner-ware. She had the phone pressed between her shoulder and and ear, probably talking with her brother or sister back in Southern California. Gillian frowned, resolving to use her cell phone instead. She pulled it out of her pocket and began the walk to her bedroom when her mother's voice rang out behind her.

“Gillian, don't get on the phone, you need to help me unpack.”

She stopped at the arch to the hallway and turned to face her mother who had continued talking. “Sheer hypocrisy,” Gillian said, loud enough for her to hear, but she stowed her cellular phone in her pocket and slid defeated into the kitchen to help unpack.

“Teenagers don't double-task well,” her mother said to her, holding a hand over the receiver.

“Mm, whatever,” she sighed, kneeling and pulling a box open. She peaked inside at its dusty contents. They were the Christmas dishes, their boarders painted with tiny holly and mistletoe sprigs. “We don't even use these at Christmas, we should just toss them,” she said, her sister walking slowly in behind her and sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Her mother said goodbye and hung the phone up, placing it beside her. She spun around and leaned on the counter's edge, looking down at her daughters. “So,” she said, a smile on her face. It always took her a while to wake up in the morning-- but she was usually happy as they come by the time the girls got off school. “How was the first day?” Jenny and Gillian both looked at each other grimly, their experiences apparently not much different.

“Pretty much sucked,” Gillian said, shrugging and taking a dusty plate out of the box.

“Mhm,” agreed her sister, who had begun untying her tennis shoes.Their mother's shoulders sagged, disappointed. “Whaat?” she said, drawing out the A. “You didn't make any friends?”

“I think people took one look at the bags under my eyes and fled,” Gillian groaned. She pulled the skin under one eye down and looked up at her mother who scrunched her face up. “Gillian, that's gross, stop it.”

“See?” said Gillian, holding out her hands. Her mother rolled her eyes and looked at Jenny.

“Jenny, honey, what about you? How was your first day of high school?”

“It was okay I guess,” she said pulling her shoes off and rolling them across the floor and out of the kitchen. “I only talked to like, one girl though. She had this cool necklace on.”

“Well,” sighed their mother, “You guys will make friends soon. Who wouldn't want to be friends with my beautiful daughters?”

“First I have to get used to the elevation,” said Gillian yawning. She stood with the stack of Christmas plates and slid them into a cabinet. “Not there,” said her mother. She pointed to another cabinet in the corner with open doors. “That's where the nice dishes go.” Gillian made a displeased sound, but dragged the dishes off the shelf and lugged them across the kitchen to the correct cabinet. When the dishes were put away she felt her pocket vibrating. “Oh! That's Miranda!” She said, pulling her phone out and answering before her mother could tell her not to.

“What's up,” was her answer as she pressed the button to accept the call and ran into her room. After complaining to her friend about how awful and strange the kids in Stillwood were and trading gossip about their days, Gillian hung up and went to plug her phone into the charger.

It probably wasn't true of course. She hadn't made much of an effort to talk to anyone, so they couldn't be blamed for ignoring her. But still, she thought as she walked back into the kitchen to help her sister unpack. It was almost like no one noticed me at all. When most of the kitchen-ware was unpacked Gillian decided to take the family dog for a walk. Jenny was allowed to tag along after a few minutes of begging, and the sisters hooked the German Shepherd, Kinzy on to a leash.