Snake Bite Heart With a Bubble Gum Smile

Alex and I sit in silence. Pure, unabridged silence only disrupted by the sounds coming from the television and the munch of chips. Alex and I don't speak. He fidgets every once in a while. I sit still, eating my food with as much grace as I can, which isn't all that much grace.

We need to talk. I know we need to talk. Not just about the weather or the show. Not just to joke around. We need to talk about what happened. We need to talk about why I ran away. We need to talk about how they've changed. We need to talk about how I've changed. We can't move on till we confront the past.

Neither of us makes a move to do so.

It would be better to talk about this with my parents here but they're at work. Do they stay late often still? Does Alex now have dinner by himself and understand how I feel? Somehow I doubt it.

Even when I was younger, Alex was the favorite. My parents attended all of his recitals, all of his games, his graduations, his award ceremonies. Regardless of whether or not he won anything, they would go out for celebratory ice cream.

I've never had my parents support. I've never had celebratory ice cream.

I believe that ice cream tastes the best but I wouldn't know.

At this point, I don't believe Alex is aware of how to talk to me. He doesn't know what I like or dislike. Doesn't know what I know about and want to know about.

My plate is empty now. All remains of the sandwich and chips are safely in my stomach.

Alex clears his throat.

"So," he starts.

I look at him expectantly.

"This is hard," he says.

"What's hard?" I ask.

"Talking to you. I feel like there's this underlying current of pain around you that I can't get rid of and I can't talk freely till it's gone. There's so much I want to talk about: your dancing, school, how staying in the park was, your friends. I just can't get past your pain."

How is it he knows about any pain I'm feeling?

"That conversation is one we should wait for mom and dad to get back to start," I say.

He nods.

"I'm going upstairs," I say, standing.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Yeah. Tell me when mom and dad get here for your surprise."

"Will do."

I turn and walk up the stairs and into my room.

My room. That sounds so peculiar. I'm used to my bench. Now I have a room full of my things. All mine. I don't know if I really miss this. Sure it's nice to have a roof over my head and a bed but staying outside was, dare I say, fun. Its not as hard as everyone thinks. Once material items are given up, life seems more meaningful. There's no worry about what to wear and what people are doing on MySpace. All there is to worry about is when the next meal can even be had, what the weather is like, how to avoid getting sick, and anything related to basic survival.

I think I'll miss it.

I think it will be hard to convert back to living indoors.

I think I'll be even more critical on my family than I have been.

I think too much.

The front door opens and shuts.

"Mom, dad, you're home early," Alex's voice floats up the stairs.

That boy is loud.

There is noise, almost like mumbling. I can't make out the words. I don't strain myself to try.

"I have a surprise," I hear Alex say.

His footsteps thump loudly as he runs up the stairs. Even with walking he can't stay remotely quiet. He would be a failure as a spy.

Bet mom and dad would still get him celebratory ice cream.

Alex opens my door. "Come on," he says.

He turns around and walks from the room; I follow. I take the steps quietly, unlike my older sibling. I stand at the last step and look at my parents. Their faces hold surprise, a bit of confusion.

"August," my mother asks.

"Hi," I say.