I'll Take A Bullet For You

Chapter 15

        Halloween is coming close. I've stopped going trick-or-treating ever since I was twelve. I still remember at the very last second before I went into my house, I would always go to the house across from mine and knock on the door. No one ever replied, their lights were always off, but I still went. I still called- in my little girl's voice- "trick-or-treat!", imagining a little boy to open the door and tell me to leave. It never happened. It's been years since I've gone up to Alistair's porch and asked for treats on Halloween. 

        It's a Saturday today, the air cool enough to bite your skin brittle. I received the text at quarter past six that evening. I stared at it for two long minutes, sure I was imagining things. 

        Kallen isn't in the house, and I don't know where he actually is. I'm not bothered by his absence, which makes this process much easier. I already told Ruth I'd be going outside for a while and she caught on pretty quick. My curfew was set at eight when I have to be back by dinner. 

        Grabbing my parka and leaving it unzipped, I hold my bio binder and a pencil case in my hand as I step outside. The air chills my bones and I scuttle towards Alistair's house. There is only one car on the driveway, which tells me he's alone. Hugging my items close to my chest, I ring the doorbell. A puff of fog escapes my mouth as I wait.

        The door opens, and unlike last time, Alistair doesn't outburst or seem frustrated. It's the first time he has given me a text. It said to come over so we can work on the Halloween Dance assignment. Even still, I'm nervous and a little anticipating.

        "Are you gonna come in?" Alistair has made room for me to get through the door. The real question is, am I allowed to come in? But he wants me to, so I timidly step into the house. I never thought I'd actually be able to go here. 

        Alistair closes the door and I take my time looking around. There are white lights turned on from hanging chandeliers the shape of spheres, and I smell something good. Like candle wax, sage, and oranges. It smells like Alistair. The house looks so clean, not too retro or fancy. There's not much furniture either, just a black leather sofa set in the living room in front of a TV attached to the wall.  There is a very big fruit basket with multiple layers on the kitchen island. 

        "You didn't have to bring your books," Alistair tells me, walking to the stairs. "I have the job sheet." I follow him up to the second floor. He knows I'm exploring his house with my curious eyes. He knows I'm prying.

        I'm baffled when I see only two bedrooms and a separate bathroom. When he takes me to what seems like his bedroom, I feel like I just keep stumbling into a jumbled puzzle. It is huge, and I mean huge. Now it makes sense how there are only two rooms; they're both like two large master bedrooms.

        "Is it messy?" Alistair asks me, surveying my reaction. His room is clean for the most part. It's as if he cleaned it just a while ago.

        His room alone has more furniture in it than the entire house, I'm sure. There is a walk-in closet to the side, his huge bed is in the centre, he's got a white table, an armoire, another cabinet, a dresser, another shelf, and another drawer. The more I take it in, all this furniture makes the room look suddenly very tight and puny. There is a window at the farthest wall, to the very right, and I reckon it's the same window I have looked at him through for ages. 

        "It's nice," I answer honestly. "So, your friends aren't gonna come any time soon, right?" I think I'm just gonna say 'friends' for the sake of saving my breath.

        Alistair raises an eyebrow. "They'll probably find out anyway." Judging by his words, he isn't the least bit worried as I am right now. I don't want him to get into trouble. 

        It takes us a while to set up our working area. We go to the white table for convenience and research some ideas for the Events of the Dance. I jot note along the way.

        After twenty minutes, Alistair sits back in light satisfaction as I finish the outline we were working on. Before I close my books, Alistair speaks up.

        "Remember you suggested that different types of Costume awards?" he reminds me. I nod. "I was thinking we should do that because we don't have enough awards and rewards. Besides, we still need to talk to the Music and Entertainment group for the rewards." 

        "What are your ideas?" I ask. 

        "I'm not the best with ideas, I told you," he says. We're both silent for some time, thinking. 

        "We should take out the Cutest and Worst, huh?" I say. Those were actually pretty stupid. "Instead, we can split it into like a, King of Halloween and Queen of Halloween award." He agrees. I get overwhelmed with ideas, but decide to choose another good one. "Back in middle school, remember we had some nominations or awards like these? I remember they had this Cutest Couple award. Perhaps we can twist it around a bit and say Best Halloween Couple award?" Alistair stays mute and that's when I realize I might've gone a bit overboard. I keep forgetting who I'm speaking to. 

        Just when I awkwardly start to close my books, he speaks again. "I remember," he says. I stare it him and he slides a hand behind his neck. "I'm okay with it." As an excuse to pry my eyes away from him, I write 'Best Halloween Couple' on the paper. 

        "Um...any more ideas?" I ask as a final note. Alistair keeps quiet for a moment, and I drum my fingers on my binder. Because we set this invisible goal to complete a certain amount of the assignment, I know I have to leave...soon. I try to cough up something to say, and it's something I actually want to know. "So...do you live alone?" 

        Alistair contemplates before answering. "Yes." 

        "Oh." I might've expected the answer but it still surprises me anyway. "I thought--well, everyone in my family thought that you had...parents. I mean, you were a family of three when you were younger and your parents, they lived with you and I just thoug--"

        "That's before I turned fourteen," Alistair interrupts. I ask him where they've gone. When he doesn't reply, I apologize thinking something bad happened to them. "They're not my real parents," he finally says. 

        "What?" I blurt. "I-I, Alistair, I don't understand." He places his elbows on the table, looking straight ahead at the pale wall. I have a feeling he's trying hard to tell me something, but at the same time, he's reluctant. But now, I really want to know what's going on. I want to know his story. Who is this guy?