Whisper

I spend five minutes looking for his house, I notice a skateboard in the driveway and I saw a small green car. I don't know why but the car looks strangely familiar, so I parked in front and went to knock on the door.

"Hello?" A quiet voice asked. I gave a smile. "Oh, Tilly! What brings you here?" The woman said, finally looking up at me. It's Mrs. Jones. God, I should've known.

"Yes, is your son here?" I asked. She smiles.

"Bryce?" She asked. I nod my head. She motions for me to come inside.

"Have a seat, I'll go get Bryce." She says. Her house was small, but cozy. Her walls were a deep blue, and she had pictures everywhere. She had a Bible and all sorts of small figurines of Jesus, I guess she's very religious. There was a big, flat-screen television. My thoughts get interrupted suddenly when I hear someone storming downstairs.

"He said for you to go up to his room." She says, smiling. I wasn't sure whether to turn around or walk upstairs. I felt like I was walking into some death trap. I make my way upstairs, moving my hands across the walls. I find a room with a door barely cracked open, and I slowly open it. I walk in.

"Journey?" I asked. He rolls his eyes.

"It's a classic. You wouldn't understand." He says. He's right there, I'm not into classics. I look around his room. It's fairly messy, but pretty neat for a guy. Well, I guess not all guys keep their rooms messy, but knowing my brother, I'd say Bryce was doing good. I look on top of his dresser and see three picture frames turned over. I hesitantly reach my hand up to flip them over.

"Hey!" He yells. "What do you think you're doing? Did I say you could touch my stuff?" He asks. Oops.

"Sorry." I say. I try to make my way over to him to get my homework. I trip on a shoe on my way to the side of the bed where he was standing. I was bracing myself for a smart comment but he doesn't say anything. He reaches his hand out and puts it down to me. Hm, helping me up? Maybe he does have a heart in that thick chest of his.

"Thanks." I say, smiling. He looks at me funny.

"For what?" He asked, puzzled. I see his eyes light up. "Oh, you thought I was going to help you up didn't you? Well, I wasn't, so here's your homework." He lets it fall to the ground. I swear, he gets off by being an asshole. This is like his hobby.

"My mistake for thinking you were nice enough to help me up." I say, rudely.

"Yeah, it was your mistake. But you know what they say, you learn from the mistakes you make, so next time you fall don't expect a helping hand." He says. I pull myself up and grab my homework. I make my way to his door.

"Don't trip on your way down the stairs." He says, laughing. Is it me or does his mother seem completely oblivious to the fact that her son is a pompous asshole?

"Is everything alright?" Mrs. Jones asked me.

"Yes, I'm fine." I say.

"Don't feel bad, he's like that to everyone, but he's extra bitter to you, so I'd feel special." Special? I think victimized is a better word.

"Special?" I asked her, confused. She smiles.

"Get to know him. He's a good kid, really." She says. That makes me feel a little better. I mean, I would get to know him, except he's too busy being a jerk to me. Eh, I'll pass.