Before Everything and After

"What are we going to use for protection?" Marissa asks me as I continue driving to my house.

I chuckle mentally at the question, because I'm a child on the inside. "Shotgun, I guess," I reply seriously. I pull into my driveway and park close to the front door for quick entry and exit. "Okay, you want to come with me, maybe grab some stuff for us?"

She nods enthusiastically and jumps out. "Okay, so I'll go to your room and gather some clothes."

"Yeah, sounds fine." I unlock the front door and step inside. Everything is in its proper place, and it looks like no one's home. I decide to pack some food and water bottles first, pushing it all into a couple of cloth shopping bags that my parents had bought in an eco-friendly phase. It hadn't lasted.

"Hey, Marissa!" I sit the bags down by the door and then go into the den to grab my dad's old shotgun.

"Yeah?" she yells back.

I yank the old shotgun off the wall above the fireplace and check to see if it has enough bullets in it. It only has two bullets out of the five it could hold. I look around for a box of bullets and I find a full box on the bookshelf nearby. I pocket about ten of them and put the rest of the box in one of the bags. "You almost done?"

An eerie silence meets me. I wander into the hall towards my room, almost scared to see why she was being so quiet. "Marissa?" I cock the shotgun and hold it up to my shoulder, preparing to shoot. I walk cautiously into my room. It's empty. I walk in further, still swinging around with the shotgun. Suddenly, the door slams shut behind me. I jump and twirl around to Marissa bent over at the waist, face red with laughter.

"Oh God. You should've seen your face, Nick." She makes a face and flaps her hands around her head, eyes crossed and mouth twisted in horror. She starts laughing again, and wipes away a few stray tears.

"Shut up!" I say, my pride severely wounded. "I didn't flail my arms around like that. I could've shot your fucking brains out, retard," I snap at her.

Her big coffee-colored eyes widen and she stops laughing. "I'm sorry."

I sigh. "It's fine. What'd you pack for me?"

She nods at the bed, where a duffle bag sits open and filled with clothes. "I found you some clothes I know you wear on a regular basis, and I even found some clothes that I can probably wear too. But you'll have to pack your own undies."

I blush furiously. "Fine," I retort as I search my drawers for some clean boxers. I grab a few and toss them in the bag. "We done here? I don't feel safe here."

Marissa shrugs. "Yeah, I guess." She waits for me to get the bag zipped up and then walks out with me. "Where is your family, anyway?"

"I don't know," I tell her, still feeling cranky.

She snickers. "Are you seriously still mad at me? C'mon, Farley. You should know me better by now. I do that type of shit all the damn time. So pull your panties out of a bunch."

I snort. "Fine. Pick up those bags, 'kay?"

She stops and turns to stare at me. She's in battle-stance, feet shoulder-width apart and hands on her hips. "What's the magic word?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Please pick up the bags," I snarl through my teeth.

"Say it nicer."

I clasp my hands together and lean forward. "Please?" I ask, fluttering my eyelashes.

She giggles and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Better." She picks up the bags and heads out to the truck.

My cheek burns where her lips touched me.