Finding Sloane Winters Crazy

Teak Cameron Richardson
The only son in the Richardson family
And he too, is currently confused

Not giving into her is not easy.
Keeping secrets from her is not easy.
Trying not to fall for her,
I’ve kind of failed with that.

She’s also got that aura around her, that makes you want to tell her everything. It’s probably the way her mouth twitches when you don’t tell her something. It’s probably that expressionless look on her face when she’s listening. It’s probably the way she arranges her emotions—her thoughts too, to make an opinion.

It’s probably the way I’m falling over my words, falling over the barriers that I only let a few people in, falling over my own heels; for her.

I’m still avoiding trying to tell her, what would she think of me, if I did? Would she pity me? Would she not look at me the same way?

I tell this to my mum, when I come home from school. She’s picking at Quinn’s school uniform, my five year old sister, and looks up when I walk in. She smiles tiredly, “Hello Teak, how was school?”

I shrug, “Boring and pointless as usual.”

Mum laughs, and turns to Quinn, “Did you say hello to your brother Quinn?”

Quinn’s scowling, but she turns to me, and holds her arms outstretched, “Hiya big bro!”

I smirk, picking her up from the chair and swinging her around, “Bro? What, are you trying to be cool?”

Quinn scoffs, “Mum! T’s being a bum.” She giggles, “Oh, that rhymes.”

“I’m kidding Q,” I say, and sit on the sofa, frowning.

Mum notices, “What’s that frown for Teak?”

“Nothing.”

She’s smiling secretly, “Girl problems?”

It’s out of my mouth before I can stop that too, “How did you know?”

“Riley’s been telling me about some girl from that girls’ school that you’re,” she pauses, frowning, “ ‘whipped’ over.”

Growling, “Riley said something about her?”

“What’s so special about her?” Mum ignores my question, and sits down beside me.
Silence, I’m trying to think of something, but I find nothing, but everything.

“Everything.” I repeat out loud. “Everything’s special about her.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sloane,” I say slowly, “Sloane Winters.”

Mum smiles again, “May I meet her?”

That’s what I love about my mother, she never asks for more details about these kind of things, but I have a feeling that she already knows enough anyways.

I hesitate, “I think... maybe.” I shrug again, but pathetically.

She stands up, “That would be nice.” She’s walking out the living room.

“She asked about dad.” I blurt out. “I nearly gave in.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Mum’s got that sad look in her eye whenever someone mentions him.

“Why would I?” I asked, incredulous.

“Why not?”

And I wondered why I wouldn’t.