You Can't Spell Slaughter Without Laughter

As we walked up to Kyle's messy, unkept yard, I was feeling more and more guilty. I should be home with Mom and Kailee, spending quality time together before being sent away. Of course, Kyle had no clue I was being sent away. So, I plastered on a fake smile and approached the old, mousy brown house with the attached garage with Kyle's arm still around my shoulder.

"I live in the garage. The car is fine in the driveway anyway. Let's just go in real quick and check in with Ma, kay?" Kyle said, turning the brass doorknob, opening the front door. Kyle grabbed my wrist and led me inside.

It was bigger inside than it looked outside. The front door entered into a little red speckled tiled hallway that led to a spacious living room. There was a coat closet to the right of the front door. To the left of the front door, there was a mirror and an array of family pictures. There was Kyle as a kid, a little ginger, crawling around on salt and pepper colored carpet. There was another of Kyle, looking older, holding an infant with same face resemblance. Although the infant had dark black tufts of hair on his little head and has a cute little button nose. Kyle's skin looked translucent with freckles adorning his pale, white cheeks. Throughout the hallway, Kyle looked more and more mature and older in his pictures. And the little boy continued to age, as well. The latest pictures seemed to be taken a few months ago. Probably before Kyle was in Juvie. The little one looked to be around Kailee's age; his hair neck-length, long and black. His eyes were brown, similar to Kyle's. His cheek bones were ridiculous, as if they could have been stolen from a foreign model. I felt Kyle tug on my arm, letting me know it was time to go on. Outside the tiled area, black wooden floors spread out all over the house. The living room had red velour couches, a small television set, and a million video game cases stacked up against the wall. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling and paintings and mirrors along the black and white floral wallpaper. A woman who looked to be in her 30's sat on one of the couches, watching the TV set. Her lips faintly curled up at the ends, as if she were smiling and not yet realizing it. There was the other boy from all the photos sitting next to her, his back resting on her shoulder. His eyes were closed and his long, dark brown eyelashes were all spread out along his lash line. Kyle cleared his throat obnoxiously and chirped, "Hello, Mother dearest,"

"Welcome home, son," she said, equally as cheery in a husky tone, "who's your friend?"

"This is Jake. Ma, Jake. Jake, Ma." he said, frantically pointing at both his mother and I back and forth. I smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mortan,"

"Puh-lease! Call me Sondrine," she said, reaching her hand out for me to shake it. Her voice was very low and husky. She had a thick accent, but I couldn't pick out what kind of accent it was. I shook her hand, smiling with my mouth closed. She then turned to Kyle and started talking, but I couldn't make it out. I kept analyzing her accent, trying to make out what it was.

"Where are you from?" I blurted, interrupting their conversation. Sondrine looked up mid-talking and smiled. She chuckled and said, "I'm French. I lived in Paris from the day I was born to the day I was eighteen."

"And why'd you leave so early?" I said, intrigued in their background. Kyle sighed loudly and sat down on the red couch next to his mother's. I sat down with him and clasped my hands together.

"I wanted to try to living in America. Like when Americans go to Paris to fall in love and eat bread and cheese. I wanted to go to baseball games and eat hot dogs and McDonald's. And at a Mets game, I found my redneck American husband and fell head over heels in love. We had a beautiful wedding and then these beautiful kids. Kyle looks like his father. Red hair and freckles. And little Jo here looks like my sister, high cheeks bones and sleek, black hair. I envy his gorgeous good looks sometimes. He's just beautiful. No girl is ever gonna be good enough for my little Joey," she said, pinching Jo's cheeks. He woke up, rubbing his eyes and looking around, temporarily confused about where he was.

"Morning, Jo-Bro," Kyle said, sticking his tongue out. Jo laughed, then looked at me and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Hi, I'm Jake," I said awkwardly. He made a face and rested his face on his mama's shoulder, using it as a pillow. She smiled and stroked his hair.

"Well, it's cool that Jake crashes here, right?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, it's fine. Off to the garage with you two," she said, smiling and turning her attention to the TV once again. Kyle got up and I followed him out to his garage. The garage had gray floors, chipped black painted walls, a door to the house and a garage door. There was a full-sized bed in the center of the room with black bedding and pillows with no pillow cases. There were band posters hanging all over the walls and a fan oscillating back and forth on a bookshelf. Books were spread out throughout the room. A pine wood desk was in a corner, piled with papers and pens and pencils. There was a sleek, green laptop on top of the mess, standing out with all the black. Kyle quickly took his pants off, threw them on the floor, and got into bed.

"If you wanna go to bed now, you can have that side," he mumbled. I awkwardly undid the button of my jeans, zipped them down, and pulled them down. I stepped out of them and picked them off the floor, dropping them next to Kyle's. I asked him if he wanted the lights off. He mumbled a yes and I flicked the switch, making it impeccably dark in the room. You couldn't see a thing. I outstretched my hands, feeling around blindly for Kyle's bed. I felt around until I touched Kyle's hair. He grunted in disapproval and I decided to just climb over him to my side of the bed.

"Your side is over there," Kyle groaned, pushing me off him. I got over him and climbed under the covers. I pulled the black comforter up to my neck and rested my head on his pillow. I closed my eyes and thought aloud, "I really don't wanna go home tomorrow."

"Then don't," Kyle whispered, "you can stay here for a few days. Ma will be fine with it."

"Okay, then. Thank you, Kyle. I lovey wuvey you so much for this, Baby-Cakes," I whispered sleepily.

"I love you, too, Jakie-Bear," he mumbled back.

I fell asleep thinking how much I was better off here with Kyle, Jo, and Sondrine for now. How can crazy camp be any better than this?