Home Alone

Frank rolls out of bed, straight onto the floor with a light 'thump'. Groaning, he crawls blindly over to his alarm clock, which his mother suggested should be on the opposite side of the room; his hand tends to magically turn it off without him waking up when it's by his bed. His hand slaps the clock three times before it finally shuts up. With his eyes still closed, Frank searches the wall for the light switch, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as the room illuminates. He blinks his eyes rapidly, slowly getting used to the light, as he stands up and heads for his bedroom door. Out in the hallway, Frank rolls his head around a couple times, cracking his neck, while walking into the bathroom. After turning on the light and shutting the door, he turns on the water at the sink and splashes his face. He looks into the mirror, water droplets rolling down his cheeks, and opens his eyes up wide, trying to wake himself up. Without really thinking about it, he slaps himself in the face, then stares at his hand confused.

Ow. That didn't work at all.

Shaking his head, he grabs the hand towel hanging on the wall and dries his face, still just as tired as before. He turns the water and light off, and goes back into his bedroom.

Looking around at the clothes littered on the floor, Frank picks up a plain black t-shirt and sniffs it. Pulling his head back and making a face of disgust, he throws the shirt into his hamper and picks up another one. This one's red, and after a sniff test and a shrug, Frank pulls it on, reminding himself to wear extra cologne, just in case. Grabbing his jeans from the day before, he pulls them on, zips and buttons them, and walks out his door while fastening his belt that was already through the loops. It's not that Frank doesn't care about his appearance, it's just that he doesn't do much. This means he doesn't get dirty, and therefore feels no need to wash every shirt and pair of pants in between each use. His pants all look relatively the same, anyway. It's not like anyone will notice.

He is greeted in the kitchen by his mom and a bowl of cereal, already fixed with milk and a spoon. He looks between his smiling mother and the bowl of cereal a few times, before narrowing his eyes in suspicion and asking jokingly, "What do you want?"

She laughs and turns to the coffee maker, while Frank sits at the table to start eating. "I don't want anything Frankie," she says, turning around to face him again, this time with a cup of coffee. "I have absolutely no idea why you would say that." She smirks a little and takes a sip of her warm drink.

Frank snorts a laugh and says, "How about the fact that you haven't made me breakfast since I was five?"

His mom smiles and looks down at the counter she's leaning against, before saying, "Well, I don't want anything. Except, maybe, that you won't be mad when I tell you this."

Frank stops eating and puts down his spoon, looking at his mom seriously. "Oh God," he says, waiting for the blow.

"It's not that bad," she says, looking up at him, "I just have another business trip. It's in California this time. It's not as long as the last one, only two weeks, most likely."

Frank groans and looks up at the ceiling. "You're not gonna send me to grandma's again, are you?"

"No, actually. I decided you can stay home alone this time. You're-"

Before she can continue, she's interrupted by Frank jumping out of his seat and exclaiming, "Yes!" He settles back down in his seat after a little victory dance, and looks at his mom with a charming smile.

"As I was saying, you're seventeen now, you don't need a babysitter. But, that doesn't mean I won't have someone checking up on you. Donna from next door will be stopping by every day after work to see how you're doing. I'm staying home from work today to pack for my trip and make you enough food for dinners while I'm gone, so all you have to do is heat them up. There's enough cereal for breakfasts, and you'll just have to live with peanut butter sandwiches for lunches. I'll leave money so you can order pizza on the two Friday's I'll be gone, and a little extra for emergencies. Emergencies, Frankie, okay? CDs and comic books do not count as emergencies."

Frank rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. "I got it mom. Thank you, for letting me stay alone. You have no idea, I'm so happy. When do you leave?"

"Well, I'm glad you're so eager to get rid of me!" She says jokingly, before putting her now empty mug in the sink and continuing. "I leave tomorrow. Early in the morning; you'll probably still be asleep. I know it's short notice, but work didn't tell me I had to go until yesterday, because Jill, another girl I work with, was supposed to go, but she got sick last minute and can't make it."

Frank nods his head and puts his bowl into the sink. "Well, I'm gonna finish getting ready and head over to the Smith's, I guess."

"Oh! No, they called. They don't need you to babysit for them today after all. They said sorry for any trouble they may have caused, and, um, to enjoy your summer, I think," she says, trailing off at the end as she starts taking things out of the refrigerator to begin cooking.

Frank rolls his eyes again, this time without a smile, wishing she had told him that before he woke up and got ready at eight in the morning. "Never mind then. I guess I'll just be upstairs."

His mom waves, then tilts her head to the side in confusion and asks, "Hey Frankie?"

"Yeah, Ma?"

"Didn't you wear those pants yesterday?"