To Walk in His Shoes

August 6th.

The next morning is colder, and I watch the clouds crowd over each other, attempting to completely cover the timid blue sky. Goosebumps break out all over my body as I creep down the stairs.

Grabbing a sweater from the closet by the front door, I saunter towards the kitchen and fix myself a bowl of cereal.

As I chomp loudly on my breakfast, I think of Emma, and how she's not here anymore. Of course I'm thrilled she even got to visit for a couple of days, but I feel like time slipped flawlessly through my fingers and it will be an eternity before I see her again.

Emma is the one who knows me the best, and who helps me through thick and thin. And with her being two states away, it's difficult to maintain such a close friendship. We've managed a while, yet it's hard to be without her.

Carter sneaks in a few seconds later, disrupting my peaceful, nostalgic silence. He nods his head to acknowledge that I'm there and then rummages through the fridge.

"How did you sleep?" I ask, starting a conversation.

"Well, with your snoring and whatnot, it was kind of difficult," he replies, smirking at his semi-witty comment.

I cough up some of my cereal and laugh at him. "I don't snore!" I exclaim defensively, standing up and putting my bowl in the sink. Carter shrugs and pulls out excessive amounts of processed food.

"Whatever you say," he taunts, smiling at me. I fumble with my fingers and press my eyebrows together curiously.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" I ask, realizing that Carter usually sulks around the house in half-destroyed sweats that are four sizes too big for him and, to my apparent disgust, no shirt. He takes a bite of his combined eggs, cottage cheese, and something unidentifiable and looks at me with an over dramatic stare.

"Just Keith, I guess," he says after he swallows his food.

"Keith is capable of making someone happy?" I ask, sincerely baffled.

"Possibly," he says, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with me. "But you know the house across the street that got burned pretty badly?" I nod my head and wait for him to continue on.

He puts all of his wrappers in the trash and cleans up before responding again. "Keith is going to be a volunteer," he states simply.

"What do you mean a volunteer?" I inquire, very surprised to hear the word 'volunteer' in the same sentence with 'Keith'.

"He's going to help repair the damages, like put in a new back door and paint over some of the areas that were ruined," Carter clarifies.

I attempt to picture Keith with a paint brush and bucket in his hands, but it’s nearly impossible. Keith’s never actually worked a day in his life, unless, of course, you count getting up to grab the remote.

“I didn’t even know we were allowed to help out,” I say, disregarding my degrading thoughts about Keith’s lack of work habits.

“I guess so. The Johnson’s don’t really have enough money to pay for all the damage, so a bunch of people are offering to help out,” he said.

I nod my head slowly, processing all of the information he’s given me.

And then it dons on me.

“Do they still need more people to work on the repairs?” I ask curiously, already planning out the next few weeks in my mind.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says bemusedly. “Why? I thought you hated the sight of Keith.”

“Well, I don’t really have anything to do during the summer. All I do is sit around and dance. And also I could put the community service hours in my applications for college,” I exclaim, my eyes glistening widely. Carter wrinkles his forehead and shakes the hair out of his face.

“Okay, but don’t complain to me when Keith gets on your nerves,” he chuckles, wiping the edges of his mouth and walking upstairs.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I whisper to myself. “I won’t.”