Page 4 of Wee, wee, wee, as you burn
“Don’t go, Charlee, it’s not safe.”
“Do you not pay attention? Remember the dream?”
What the fuck, not again. Looking around my room, I’m alone, so where the fuck are these voices coming from?
“In your head, Charlee, duh!”
“She really doesn’t get it yet.”
“Well, get out of my fucking head. I’m going to the game,” I say out loud to no one, like a fucking psycho.
“I won’t repeat myself.”
“It’s no use. You were right; she doesn’t listen.”
“Shut up. Just shut up!” I yell, slamming my fists against the vanity, and all I hear is sinister giggling, which forces me to leave my room. I’m going crazy. Am I schizo? I don’t understand what is going on with me. But the vision of the dream I had sits at the forefront of my brain, and I wish I had gotten the entire scene. I wish I understood what it means.
“Charlee, dinner, honey.” My mom yells up the stairs as I’m already halfway down the hallway.
“Coming,” I yell back, flying down the steps. The smell of chicken cutlets hits my senses, and my stomach growls making me realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Walking into the dining room, I see the table is already set and everyone is waiting for me.
“Hey sweetie, wow, you look very nice this evening.” My father says, bringing a smile to my face.
“And who is Bakeman?” My mom asks, and my brother's brows hit his forehead.
“Vaughn Bakeman is our star quarterback. He’s really good. Wow sis, how did you manage that?” he asks, and I roll my eyes.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say as I sit in my seat and plate up my food.
“Soo…” My mom trails off as I take the first bite of chicken.
“Vaughn is just a friend, and he asked me to come to his game tonight,” I say, continuing to eat my dinner.
“Friends don’t ask friends to wear their jersey, honey. He must like you if he handed over his shirt.” My father adds, and I shrug.
“I plead the fifth and how would you know the rules to all of this anyway?” I ask, taking a scoop of mashed potatoes and shoving it in my mouth.
“I played ball back in my day. Isn’t that right, sweetie?” He replies and smirks at my mom, who blushes from across the table.
“Eww,” Burt says, and I kick him in the shin under the table. “Ouch, you wench. That hurt.” He whines, and I smirk.
“Yes, yes. Your father played, and I was lucky enough to wear his jersey.” She smiles at him, and he juts his chest out with so much pride. My parents are high-school sweethearts. It’s very rare, but not in this town. Many of the kids in my year, whose parents attended Wisteria, married their high school sweethearts.Gag. I can’t wait to get out of this town.My phone buzzes, and I look around the table, seeing that they are in a deep conversation about the grade Burt received on his history paper. Glancing down at my phone in my lap, I see I have a text from Jeremy.
Jer:
I’d like to see you tonight.
Fuck! Think quickly Charlee, he doesn’t like to be ignored. Taking another bite of my chicken, I figure I’ll just tell him the truth but omit some of the details.
Me:
Going to the game at school. Maybe after? Depending on how late it is.
Shutting the screen off, I continue eating, hoping my answer suffices him. After we’re done, I help my mom clear the table and load the dishes into the dishwasher. Kissing her cheek, I leave the kitchen and place a kiss on my father's head as he sits in his chair getting ready to watch a game that’s coming on TV.
“Don’t go Charlee, this will not end well.”
“Please stay with us, please.”
