Chapter 2

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Paige doesn't live too far away from me, so I walked to her house. The day was bright and sunny with green grass lacing the neighborhood like a neatly trimmed bow. The pavement of several driveways glimmered with the tiny little rocks that were cemented in.

I see Paige's house and walk up to her sturdy-looking oak door, that was painted white last summer, but you can still see the little scratch marks on the bottom inflicted by her dog, Riley. I don't bother knocking on the door because Paige and I tell each other when either of us are coming over most of the time. I come in to see Paige on the couch watching TV and eating potato chips from a bag next to her. She perks up when she sees me then waves me down to her.

"Where's Riley?" I look around the living room.

"He's outside playing with Felix," Paige mentions her younger brother, Felix. Just as she finishes her statement, Felix opens the door to welcome in a panting corgi. The corgi jumps up onto the couch and snuggles up to Paige while giving me a friendly look; I've been over to her house so many times Riley's pretty comfortable with me.

The rest of the day went on with our usual antics: watching TV; at some point we tried to bake cookies but they came out burnt and the smoke alarm went off, so I'm 99.9% sure we're never allowed to bake again in Paige's house thanks to her mom, and just generally hung out. I got a few (million) nervous calls from Mom telling me she hadn't talked to me in a while and wanted to know if I was alright, and I assured her that of course, I was alright and if anything happened I'd call the emergency services then her. Mom worries too much sometimes.

Eventually, after the two millionth call, I decided that it would be best if I at least be back home for dinner like I originally planned and not give my mom a heart attack. I give Riley a goodbye pat on the head, say bye to Paige and Felix, and jog off home. As I'm out I enjoy the crisp, cool night air on my skin, the moon's light shining down on my neighborhood and me fills me with this relaxation that would relax any grouch. My jog soon slows to a steady walk when I arrive at my house. I open the door to see Mom hastily open a book and pretend to read at the dinner table, spaghetti in front of her.

"Hi, (Y/N), dinner's ready!" Mom looks up and closes the book.

"Hi, Mom," I walk over to the counter where the pot of spaghetti is sitting and serve myself a heaping glop of it, "What were you reading about?"

Mom looks a little taken aback, "Oh, um, you know, about these people, um, going on adventures..." She trailed off. I sigh, she's a terrible liar. I put my plate on the table and sit down.

"It's not healthy to be worrying all of the time about me whenever I go out. You need healthy distractions, and sitting here watching the door anxiously after I say I'm on my way home is not a healthy distraction. It's especially not healthy when you try and lie to me about it." We sit there for what felt like a perpetual silence; Mom doesn't know what to say and I have nothing else to say. Mom looks at her food, trying to not look at me as I'm looking at her. Eventually, I grab my fork and start eating.

I finish my plate in a hurry, regretting taking so much from the pot. I rinse the fork and plate and scurry off to my room without another word. I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't just casually bring this up tomorrow, but I can't forget about this either, this problem needs to be addressed.  

I cling to my blankets willing, no, begging sleep to come and take my mind off of the matter. I was trying so hard to pretend to sleep, I didn't notice when sleep actually came. My dreams were filled with ceaseless laughter then smoldering down to giggles but then back to full-blown laughter. The laughter was like one of a madman's, having not an ounce of sanity in the bursts of air.

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