MY MUM STOOD BY the kitchen door with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Yasmin Campbell, one of my mum's oldest and dearest friends stood next to her, wearing the same expression.
"Oh my God," Mum gasped, "What...what the hell do you think you're doing Elliot?"
I opened my mouth to respond but the dark-haired boy cut in, "I'm not doing anything, she's fucking crazy!"
My eyes narrowed as I glanced down at him. My fingers tightened around his neck once more, I was more than ready to choke the life out of this inconsiderate arsehole.
"She's...she's..." he sputtered, "She's choking me!"
Mum banged her hand on the kitchen counter, making me jump. "Stop it!"
I stared up at her, "But mum he's a creep! He's a burglar! We have to teach this son of a-"
"Jesus Christ! He's not a burglar!" Yasmin snapped, looking like she was close to having a heart attack, "El, get off him!"
I grappled with the boy for a few seconds before he managed to rip my hands off his neck and push away. He muttered a series of obscene curses as he pushed himself up. He rubbed his neck and stumbled over to sit on one of the stools that surrounded the kitchen island.
"Oh God," Yasmin gasped, rushing over to him.
"Elliot," Mum asked, "Are you okay love?"
I nodded, "I think so -"
"I wasn't talking to you." Mum snapped. She glanced at the dark-haired boy with a concerned expression and joined him and Yasmin at the kitchen island, "Are you okay?"
The boy nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine...Can I have some water?"
"Oh, of course," Mum said and dumped her shoulder bag on the kitchen counter. She took a glass cup from the one of the overheard cupboards and filled with water from the tap. The boy threw her grateful smile as she gave him the glass cup.
I huffed and stood back up. I brushed away any dirt on my jumper and skirt. I wanted to look a little dignified after I had almost strangled a stranger to death. Mum scowled heavily, her hazel eyes were burning holes into my head as she stared at me in a way that told me she was waiting for an explanation.
"But...I-I thought," I stammered, "I thought-"
"You thought what?" Mum pressed.
"I thought he was a burglar! Don't look at me like that, I mean, look at him!" I waved a hand in the direction of the boy, "He looks like a thug!"
"Elliot!" Mum hissed.
"What?" the boy looked up from his glass of water.
Mum shook her head, "Sorry, not you."
"He might not be a burglar but the guy's a prick!" I said, "Mum, he ate my cake! It's on the floor completely ruined and then...and then the bastard cut my hair!"
The boy glanced up at me, a grimace in the lines of his mouth. "That was my cake."
"No, it wasn't, it had my name on it," I said. I had written my name in bold letters on a post-it note before I left for school today. I wanted to clearly mark the cake as mine and that it was not to be eaten by anybody else. The note had been mainly aimed at my dad since he was prone to eating any food in sight.
"No it didn't," he said, "it had Elliot written on it."
"Yeah and that's my name."
"No it isn't."
I blinked at him. "Mate, I think I know my own name."
"Why would I take something that isn't mine?" he asked, his tone dripping with irritation. I could tell he was fighting the same urge I had. The urge to throw a rather heavy object at his face.
"Well...you're a burglar....that is usually what burglars do."
He let out a heavy sigh, "I am not a burglar! Are you stupid? Is there actually something wrong with you? What do you not understand?"
I was trying really hard not to pounce and strangle the life out of him right then and there. I let my hands curl into tight fists as I glared at him. I opened my mouth to say something, something about his apish ignorance but Mum must have sensed the hostile atmosphere because she stepped between us.
"He's not a burglar," she said.
"Well, if he's not a burglar then who the hell is he?" I said. I had no idea what was going on at this point.
"I told you this morning that he would arrive today," Mum said, "Do you ever listen?"
I frowned and tried to remember this morning's supposed conversation. I had been sat on a stool by the kitchen island, lazily eating my cereal when Mum came rushing in. Her mouth was moving and I think words were coming out but I hadn't really been listening, my thoughts were jumpy, racing and consumed with the football match. At the end of her rant she'd asked if I understood and to save myself another lecture from her about not listening, I'd nodded.
Mum raised a finger at the boy and Yasmin, "Give me a minute, I just need to have a few words with my daughter."
Mum grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me out of the kitchen with her. Once we were a good hearing distance away from them, she let go of my wrist. She folded her arms across her chest and gave me one of her disappointed glares.
"What?" I frowned.
"You know exactly what, Elliot Jensen!" she spat, "What the hell is wrong with you? Who strangles people?"
"I thought he was a burglar!" I threw my arms in the air, "And he cut my hair! Don't you care about that little tidbit?"
She frowned, "He cut your hair? Why?"
"I don't know..." I shook my head, I was reluctant to tell her he might have done it because I threatened to beat him up with a cricket bat, "I don't know why."
"This is insane."
"The only explanation is that he's a psychopath."
Mum didn't look impressed, "He's not a psychopath, El...and even if he was a burglar you call the police, you don't strangle the guy."
"What was I supposed to do?" I asked, "Say 'oh hey there Mr. Burglar I notice you're robbing my house! Would you like a foot massage? A bouquet of roses? A free holiday to the Bahamas'? Better yet, I'll just stick this knife in my stomach to save you the trouble! No! Dad said, if anybody ever broke into the house, we grab the nearest weapon and attack them."
Mum groaned, "I told you he would be coming today."
"Who? Who is he?"
"You're just like your brothers, you never listen." She let out another long sigh before she opened her mouth to speak, "His name is Elliot Fintry, he flew over from America this morning and he's going to be staying with us for a while."
"What? So you just brought some random guy from God knows where -"
"America, I just told you."
"-- to live with us?"
"He's not random," she frowned, "if you'd listened you know this already. Yasmin and I know his parents, in fact Yasmin is close friends with his mother and their family has fallen on hard times, times Elliot hasn't reacted too well in. Penelope, his mother, was stressed due to his anti-social behaviour and she'd reached a breaking point with him, so she contacted Yasmin and I for some advice. So, I suggested that he comes to England to live with us for a while and Penelope agreed, she thinks a break from the U.S and that toxic environment is exactly what he needs."
"Wait, so, how long is he staying with us?"
"A year," she said, "maybe more...as long as he needs to stay actually."
I blinked. How come I was only finding out about this now? I would have remembered something as important as this and why hadn't they asked me about this? You know, asked if I was OK with it? They couldn't just bring some random stranger to live with us.
"And don't you dare say you just found out about this Elliot," she said, pointedly waving a finger in my face. "I've been telling you for the past two months but you've been too absorbed in your football malarkey to even listen or care."
I grimaced, "Well, why didn't you ask me if I was alright with this?"
"Because you would have said no and you need to learn that not every stranger is a rabid serial killer." I opened my mouth to protest but she immediately cut me off, "No! The boy is staying, that's that and that's final! Now you're going to march back in there and apologise to that poor boy for nearly choking him to death."
"But Mum-"
She took a step towards me, "Understand?"
My eyes widened, "Yeah, okay."
Jesus Christ. My mother could be a terrifying woman sometimes. I didn't have the guts to oppose her.
"Sorry," I grumbled.
"What?" the boy said. "I didn't quite catch that."
Even though I was staring at my feet like they were the most fascinating thing in the world, I could hear the amusement lacing his voice. I reluctantly looked up at him. He stood before me, his dark eyes were also swimming with amusement as he wore that arrogant expression. It made me want to hurt him. Really hurt him.
I glanced over at Mum and Yasmin, who were both staring expectantly at me, waiting for the damned apology. I looked back at the boy and grit my teeth.
"I'm sorry," I said.
One side of his rose pink lips quirked up into a smirk, "See? That wasn't so hard to say was it, munchkin?"
And it was all I could do not to punch him in the face.
"Well, now we've got that out of the way...Elliot could you...?" Mum began as we both looked at her. "I mean...uh...my daughter. Elliot, could you show...uh...Elliot here to his bedroom? It's Carlisle's old room. I need to talk to Yasmin."
I nodded and started walking out of the kitchen with the boy following. I shut the kitchen door firmly behind me and my foot had just touched the first step when the boy, Elliot, called my name. I paused and turned round to face him. He walked towards me, in a slow menacing manner that made me walk back until my back hit the wall. He was so tall, I had to tilt my chin up to look at him. I really didn't like how small he made me feel. I gulped and masked my nervousness by glaring back at him.
"By the way," he said, taking one last step so that he was way too close for my liking, "Apology not accepted."
His dark eyes were cold and he had a cutting smile on his lips.
I scoffed and placing both my hands on his chest, I pushed him away. He stumbled a few steps back. I chuckled and said, "Like I give two shits about whether or not you accept my apology, Fintry."
"Just a little heads up, I'm going to get you back for strangling me, my dear little munchkin. You know what they say....revenge is a dish best served cold." He laughed at his own little private joke as he turned around and began walking up the staircase. "Come on, Jensen, show me to my new bedroom!"
I let out a stutter of breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding.
"Brilliant," I muttered.
As if sharing the same name as this guy wasn't bad enough, I had to share the same house as him.