Last Chance Idol #2, Crossing All The T's
I spotted the purple backpack the instant I walked through the front door. It was lying across the foyer from me, half on and half off the first step of the staircase leading upwards, as though it had been shrugged off by someone who didn't much care where it fell. Obviously, they planned to pick it up on their way out, and if I was really mean, I'd leave it right there. My little brother was getting sloppy, and it'd serve him right if he got burned this time.
I eased the door shut behind me, wincing a bit at the inevitable chirp from our alarm system. Of course, I needn't have worried, the music from Hayden's room upstairs was loud enough that I could easily recognize the song before I reached the backpack, OneRepublic's Counting Stars. I stared down at the incriminating evidence for a moment, contemplating various scenarios, but finally picked it up. There wasn't much time left.
I climbed the stairs slowly, weighed down by my own backpack as well as the purple one. The carpet on the treads was getting a little worn, and I wondered if either mom or dad had noticed it. Neither one of them ventured upstairs all that often anymore, it was Hayden's and my domain, but maybe they'd do something with the extra space when I left for college next year? The thought was a little disconcerting, and I hesitated at the top landing, trying to imagine a future where my bedroom was, what? A gym, a sewing room, a dumping ground for everyone's junk? I could feel my future opening up before me, and yet there was a reluctance too, an unwillingness to leave the people and home I had grown up with behind.
I crossed the playroom, and noted more scattered evidence of debauchery; Hayden's high school binder, his trumpet case, and a few random pieces of clothing. So far, my own dating record consisted of two girlfriends. Elaine, who had gone to the movies with me a few times at the tail end of middle school, and Samantha, who had agreed to be my girlfriend for three intoxicating months last year. Judging by the evidence underfoot, Hayden had already gotten further with his latest girlfriend than I had with either one of mine.
"Quantity or quality?" I murmured, entering the hallway for the upstairs bedrooms. I stopped off in my room first, shrugged out of my own backpack, and turned for the door. Then, thinking better of it, I turned back, dug inside the pack for a second, and finally found what I was looking for. Yes, this would be perfect.
The music outside Hayden's door was deafening. There was a chance he wouldn't notice my latest inspiration, but still, he was right above the garage. I lifted the remote, aimed it at the vibrating bedroom door like a gun, and depressed the large center button. Even from outside his room, I could feel the rumble as the garage door downstairs went up. I waited for a count of fifteen seconds, and gave the button another push. By the time the rumbling stopped, the music had as well. Show time!
I tucked the remote in my pocket, and set down the purple backpack just outside Hayden's door. Then I gave the door three firm knocks.
"Yes?" It was recognizably Hayden's voice, although perhaps an octave or so higher than normal.
I didn't answer right away, instead counting silently to three.
"Would you keep it down?" I finally said, trying my best to sound both annoyed and distracted.
"Jeff?" This time, some of his lower register had returned.
"Yeah," I answered, "who the hell else would it be?"
Figuring that he and his partner had probably had enough time, I turned the doorknob, and gave his door a little push with my fingers.
"I've got a research paper due in Ms. Dinan's class on Friday," I growled, sticking my head a little way through the open door, "and it counts for like one fourth of my grade. I'd like to, you know, dot all the I's and cross all the ..."
"Jeff!" He was sitting on the edge of his bed, left arm and head successfully occupying the correct holes in a band T-shirt, while the right one remained snugly trapped inside across his chest. He was, thankfully, wearing boxers, with a pair of jeans pooled around his feet. "Is mom or dad home? I thought I heard ..."
"You're the one above the garage," I snapped, giving his half open door an unnecessarily hard shove with the palm of my hand, "although I wouldn't really be surprised if you were deaf."
The bedroom door struck the wall behind it with a satisfyingly loud clatter, and my kid brother cringed. "Please help," he squeaked.
Trying not to laugh, I started at his feet, and let my eyes slowly track up to his face, and then flick away. "Gross!" I commented, unable to resist twisting the knife a bit.
"It's not," he stammered, "I wasn't ..."
"No," I agreed, bending and retrieving the backpack from beside me, "you were doing something worse." I held the pack at chest level and gave it a little flourish. There was a sharp intake of breath, and then what sounded like a muffled sob. Hayden hadn't been the source of either noise.
Suddenly, my little joke wasn't funny anymore. Somewhere in Hayden's bedroom there was a naked, or close enough to make no difference, girl, and right now she had to be terrified. My focus had been on scaring the shit out of my little brother, but I hadn't even thought of the other person involved.
"Mom and Dad aren't home," I said, dropping the backpack as though it were red hot and spinning away, "but they will be soon. If you hurry, you can get her out of here."
"And what the fuck are you doing home?" hayden raged behind me. "You're supposed to be at basketball practice all week."
My little brother, only concerned with how the injustice of the universe might negatively affect his pleasure. "You didn't answer your cell, genius," I shouted over my shoulder, "grandpa's had an accident, and they're coming home early."
I slammed my bedroom door behind me, and pushing my pack to the floor, flopped across the foot of my bed. Had some part of me hoped to catch a glimpse of the girl Hayden had been with? I had wanted to scare him, had figured he deserved it, but what had my real motivation been?
"I gotta get out of here before I go insane."
They could do whatever they wanted with my bedroom.
Author's Note:
Long time readers here may have recognized the characters of Jeff and Hayden. I wrote this story to stand on its own two feet, but if you're interested, the first story I wrote about the brothers can be found under the following link, Ill-conceived Plans. The story you've just finished reading is a prequel, so it'll almost be like you never left them. *grin*
Dan
Crossposted from Dreamwidth
I eased the door shut behind me, wincing a bit at the inevitable chirp from our alarm system. Of course, I needn't have worried, the music from Hayden's room upstairs was loud enough that I could easily recognize the song before I reached the backpack, OneRepublic's Counting Stars. I stared down at the incriminating evidence for a moment, contemplating various scenarios, but finally picked it up. There wasn't much time left.
I climbed the stairs slowly, weighed down by my own backpack as well as the purple one. The carpet on the treads was getting a little worn, and I wondered if either mom or dad had noticed it. Neither one of them ventured upstairs all that often anymore, it was Hayden's and my domain, but maybe they'd do something with the extra space when I left for college next year? The thought was a little disconcerting, and I hesitated at the top landing, trying to imagine a future where my bedroom was, what? A gym, a sewing room, a dumping ground for everyone's junk? I could feel my future opening up before me, and yet there was a reluctance too, an unwillingness to leave the people and home I had grown up with behind.
I crossed the playroom, and noted more scattered evidence of debauchery; Hayden's high school binder, his trumpet case, and a few random pieces of clothing. So far, my own dating record consisted of two girlfriends. Elaine, who had gone to the movies with me a few times at the tail end of middle school, and Samantha, who had agreed to be my girlfriend for three intoxicating months last year. Judging by the evidence underfoot, Hayden had already gotten further with his latest girlfriend than I had with either one of mine.
"Quantity or quality?" I murmured, entering the hallway for the upstairs bedrooms. I stopped off in my room first, shrugged out of my own backpack, and turned for the door. Then, thinking better of it, I turned back, dug inside the pack for a second, and finally found what I was looking for. Yes, this would be perfect.
The music outside Hayden's door was deafening. There was a chance he wouldn't notice my latest inspiration, but still, he was right above the garage. I lifted the remote, aimed it at the vibrating bedroom door like a gun, and depressed the large center button. Even from outside his room, I could feel the rumble as the garage door downstairs went up. I waited for a count of fifteen seconds, and gave the button another push. By the time the rumbling stopped, the music had as well. Show time!
I tucked the remote in my pocket, and set down the purple backpack just outside Hayden's door. Then I gave the door three firm knocks.
"Yes?" It was recognizably Hayden's voice, although perhaps an octave or so higher than normal.
I didn't answer right away, instead counting silently to three.
"Would you keep it down?" I finally said, trying my best to sound both annoyed and distracted.
"Jeff?" This time, some of his lower register had returned.
"Yeah," I answered, "who the hell else would it be?"
Figuring that he and his partner had probably had enough time, I turned the doorknob, and gave his door a little push with my fingers.
"I've got a research paper due in Ms. Dinan's class on Friday," I growled, sticking my head a little way through the open door, "and it counts for like one fourth of my grade. I'd like to, you know, dot all the I's and cross all the ..."
"Jeff!" He was sitting on the edge of his bed, left arm and head successfully occupying the correct holes in a band T-shirt, while the right one remained snugly trapped inside across his chest. He was, thankfully, wearing boxers, with a pair of jeans pooled around his feet. "Is mom or dad home? I thought I heard ..."
"You're the one above the garage," I snapped, giving his half open door an unnecessarily hard shove with the palm of my hand, "although I wouldn't really be surprised if you were deaf."
The bedroom door struck the wall behind it with a satisfyingly loud clatter, and my kid brother cringed. "Please help," he squeaked.
Trying not to laugh, I started at his feet, and let my eyes slowly track up to his face, and then flick away. "Gross!" I commented, unable to resist twisting the knife a bit.
"It's not," he stammered, "I wasn't ..."
"No," I agreed, bending and retrieving the backpack from beside me, "you were doing something worse." I held the pack at chest level and gave it a little flourish. There was a sharp intake of breath, and then what sounded like a muffled sob. Hayden hadn't been the source of either noise.
Suddenly, my little joke wasn't funny anymore. Somewhere in Hayden's bedroom there was a naked, or close enough to make no difference, girl, and right now she had to be terrified. My focus had been on scaring the shit out of my little brother, but I hadn't even thought of the other person involved.
"Mom and Dad aren't home," I said, dropping the backpack as though it were red hot and spinning away, "but they will be soon. If you hurry, you can get her out of here."
"And what the fuck are you doing home?" hayden raged behind me. "You're supposed to be at basketball practice all week."
My little brother, only concerned with how the injustice of the universe might negatively affect his pleasure. "You didn't answer your cell, genius," I shouted over my shoulder, "grandpa's had an accident, and they're coming home early."
I slammed my bedroom door behind me, and pushing my pack to the floor, flopped across the foot of my bed. Had some part of me hoped to catch a glimpse of the girl Hayden had been with? I had wanted to scare him, had figured he deserved it, but what had my real motivation been?
"I gotta get out of here before I go insane."
They could do whatever they wanted with my bedroom.
Author's Note:
Long time readers here may have recognized the characters of Jeff and Hayden. I wrote this story to stand on its own two feet, but if you're interested, the first story I wrote about the brothers can be found under the following link, Ill-conceived Plans. The story you've just finished reading is a prequel, so it'll almost be like you never left them. *grin*
Dan
Crossposted from Dreamwidth