Tuck Sinn

20

His smile fell.

Walking into his room, Tom could see that Sid had been in here.

The bookshelf had books all out of the order they had been in, and some books were laid out on the floor, stacked or thrown to the side. Tom closed his eyes and ran a hot hand through his hair. Tom exhaled. Quick, turning, harsh air came out of him. Tom's steps, now heavy, thumped against his floor as he went to his door, about to slam it closed. He saw Sid in the hall.

Sid, meeting his eyes, suddenly ran to his own room, closing the door quickly.

"Sid," The name was elongated in Tom's angry voice, a sudden change from a few minutes ago. Tom walked after him.

He went to Sid's door and opened it quickly, the breeze from it like a wind pulling into the room. Sid's eyes were wide, staring back at Tom. "Stop going through my things!" Tom said, his voice sharp and deep and angry, and then he slammed Sid's door closed again and went to his own room with a huff in his breaths.

Tom stepped on over to his bookshelf, angrily swiping at the books on the ground and pushing them back into the bookshelf.

He looked for the brown journal, his anger as a steady heat in his stomach. He saw it on the bookshelf, and the anger around him was subdued into a current, ebbing sharply and hotly in his stomach and under his warm skin. The frustration was in the back of his mind, but... It couldn't stay. The journal was fine, and that was all that mattered. He took it back out and sat on the ground, flipping through it. The sketch of Huck was still there. Tom took a cold breath, a deep sigh.

The sharp anger turned to a rocking, unsteady feeling in his gut.

He wasn't used to going out and adventuring anymore. Even the thought of the fair made him nervous. Even with all those friends of his... The adventures they used to have... It was different without Huck. Tom was more alone, now, he thought, staring at the drawing. More alone in the outcomes-- If he wasn't friends with Amy and Becky, he would have no one. He had realized that in the days he avoided them. Tom sighed. Becky wanted him to come, so he would. No matter what could happen, she would be there for him, now. They were together again.

Tom put the drawing into the pages of the journal again, and set it gently back into the bookshelf, between all the other old books and notebooks he had. He would be alright. For Becky.

Tom changed his clothes to nicer ones, getting ready to go. The feeling lingered, and he moved around his room, ignoring it. He didn't have a reason to be so nervous about this, anyway. He'd gone to these before. Tom smoothed down his shirt and sat on his bed. He thought of Becky and of Huck, and of everything. It would be strange, but... Tom sighed, rubbed his eyes.

It would be alright, because Becky would be there.

But, still, maybe something would go wrong, because Tom's sickly swirling feeling was still there. He pushed it down as best he could, but that fear, that excitement in his throat wouldn't leave. The anticipation was hopefully worse than actually attending. Tom sighed. However it went, it would happen eventually. He looked to the window in his room. It was streaked with dust and with night-- the air was starting to get dark, now. Tom hurried up and left his room. He closed the door behind himself quietly, slowly, hoping Sid wouldn't take the opportunity to snoop again. He moved slowly down the steps, avoiding the creaks and dips and bends of it, walking downstairs. Aunt Polly was in the living room again, sitting and staring.

"I'll be off with Becky, Aunt Polly." Tom said, running a hand through his hair, putting on his shoes.

"Are you marrying her, yet?" She asked. It gave Tom a shock running through his system. Luckily she didn't wait for a response. "Be back before curfew. I hate waiting up for you." She said, and he nodded, turning towards the front door. But he paused for a moment, then, his eyebrows furrowing a moment. He hadn't realized she does that.

"Okay, Aunt Polly." He said, opening the door to the cooling air outside and closing it off behind him.