Moss

He was a peculiar boy, Alastair. I'd often wondered why he was this way. Always helping me. Insisting on doing things for me. Things I was perfectly capable of doing myself. When he'd offer to accompany to the supermarket - a forty-five minute long drive on the motorway, until reaching Mansard, a city further south - I'd shush him into a silence and then close my eyes pretending he wasn’t there. That he didn’t exist. I'd then walk away, eyes open and ahead of me. And he'd stand away, behind me, nodding as if my silencing had been civil and I hadn't been treating him like dirt.

"Alastair, I'm going to the supermarket," I paused, "... the big one"

I saw it in his eyes. The glint that told me he wanted to open his gob and offer to accompany me. But the fact that he was remaining silent, told me he was holding back.

"C-cool," he muttered. I watched him fumble. He sneezed a fake sneeze and squeaked, "Need. Tissue"

"Want to come with me," I called to his retreating back. He looked down at me, where I sat at his kitchen table and I smiled, eating my scrambled eggs - courtesy of Alastair's mother, Ruby - they tasted like fluffy balls of blandness. She forgot to add salt. I added it myself, shaking the crap out of the shaker. They tasted worse now, but I managed to fork down the rest without complaint.

Alastair stood still in one spot looking thoughtful.

"Thanks for the eggs Ruby," I called out to his mother. She by the stove, clacking and mixing big wooden spoons into various pots and pans. She was having guests later tonight and I was invited for the supper that she was preparing. Stew. That's what I saw, and if I was correct it was beef stew, from the glorious smell that was wavering under my nostrils. I had a keen sense of smell for all things food.

"Ok, I'll come with you"

I had barely heard him, just barely. He had whispered it, as I had stepped out of the kitchen door. I didn't stop though. I just wanted to see what he'd do.

"Go with her you muppet," Ruby had shooed him out of her kitchen, when he hadn't followed. She wasn't a woman who fussed, she liked things nice, easy and organized.

My steps fell short once I exited Alastair's home. Precisely four metres away stood Stephen McDonald, Alastair's father. I felt Alastair's presence fall into place by my side. My eyes squinted, curious as to what the man was doing. He noticed his son and then his eyes fell onto me and he shook his head in dismay.

Alastair's father had never liked me very much. I wasn’t offended by that. I preferred that he didn't favour me. However it was inevitable, whether he were to favour me or not that we meet every day, for I freeloaded in his house more than he would ever appreciate. I did it on purpose. And he knew this only too well.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as he walked leisurely to his truck and took his keys out of its ignition.

"I was inspecting that stupid, good for nothing shack!" Stephen had a unique voice. It was a cross between an elephant and lion. He roared and trumpeted at the same time. He talked at you rather than with you, "It's an absolute ruin!” he observed.

"My shack is not a ruin, come on, Stephen, you can't diss the shack"

"I think you'll find it belongs to me Poppy. This is my property"

"You're going to kick me out?"

"'Course not!"

"I knew you loved me," I skipped past him, flicking his large nose and trotting off towards my car parallel to his truck, "You just have a funny way of showing it"

Stephen's sighed, which I could only interpret as annoyance. It was the type of sigh that I was used to. It was loud, obnoxious and incredibly filled with old man stressed.

"Nice to know, after all these years, you still think so highly of yourself," he shook his head, no trace of amusement in his words, oh boy he was stressed; old man style, "Where are the two of you off to?"

"Supermarket," Alastair answered shortly.

"The big one," I added, nodding profusely like a child.

The stare I received was unquestionable. Stephen just stood there looking appalled, his eyes as big and fat as the pot Ruby was making beef stew in right now. It made me laugh and when I did laugh out loud Stephen shook his head and stalked away like he wanted to crumple up and die.

"He hates you," Alastair patted my shoulder.

"I love him"

I shrugged him away and began to deal with the force that decided to jam my car door today. Alastair had already gotten into the car and sat patiently waiting for me. He saw the struggle I was in and leant over to push the door open from the inside.

"I can do it myself," He moved back into place in his seat and watched as the struggle continued. I didn't care. I was determined that I'd do it myself, somehow.

Two minutes later and I was sure that my face was that of a tomato colour. I blew deep and heavy breathes, kneading my shoes into the sandy ground, pulling with all my might at the handle. My head felt hot, from both the struggle and the sun shining right above my head. I muttered angrily to myself and kicked at the door three times, in the process damaging both my foot and my car. I knelt down onto the ground, analysing the damage. And that's when I'd decided what I was going to do.

"Where are you going?" asked Alastair, moving to exit the car.

He followed behind me. I stopped in front of my shack, lifting the window. The dirt piled onto my palms as I lift it up. I jumped up and threw myself through the window, landing onto my feet. Alastair was about to do the same, but I stopped him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Something," I muttered back to him.

I had found it. It was sitting there the in corner of the room where I basically have everything from clothes and books to handy tools. I jumped back out of the window. The shack itself didn't have a door. The window was the only exit. One of the many reasons Stephen let me live in it.

Alastair saw it in my hand. The spanner. He shook his head no, but I ran ahead of him and did what I had intended quickly, with as much force as possible before he could convince me otherwise.

"The car is already bust up. Why not?"

"You’re mad! Absolutely mad Poppy," Alastair bellowed, he wasn't angry, he was laughing just like me. I'd regret it later though.

"What in the bloody hell is happening out here?!"

Stephen saw the large gaping hole that was once my car window. And before long, he scooted away informing his wife that I was a nutter and that one of these he'd kick me off his property.

I didn't believe him. He didn't have the heart to kick me out of that shack. He couldn't bare to see his son saddened. And I was fine with that.