Page 37 of Run Away Home: Tempered

I walk into my room to change. My outfit’s laid out on the bed. I ironed my shirt and trousers last night. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Tristian’s clothes are never ironed, and she really likes him. Maybe she’s into messy guys. The kind of guys who are daring, adventurous, and don’t think things through. I used to be more like that... Anyway, maybe I should crunch my clothes back up. Also, maybe I shouldn’t have showered. She seems to like those mink fellows.

I face the standing mirror. Is my bun too neat? Maybe I should mess that up, too? Or I could cut it off. She said she doesn’t like man buns. I turn to my side table and open the top drawer, grabbing a pair of scissors. I face the mirror again, rip my hair out of the bun, and hold the scissors up.

“Are you cutting your hair?”

I turn quickly. It’s Danny. What’s he still doing here? I put the scissors down to my side.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to be at Matt’s?”

“Eh. Later. I’m going to be fashionably late.”

“You know Hayley and I are leaving in about an hour?”

“Yup. I get the apartment all to myself.”

“Do not make a mess. Do you hear me? And if you turn the oven on, don’t forget to shut it off.”

“Oh my God,” he moans. “When have I ever left the oven on?”

“I’m just making sure. Also, text me when you head to Matt’s, and text me when you leave Matt’s. Let me know where you are at all times. Got it? And if anyone knocks on the door, do not answer it.”

“I’m thirteen years old, Peter.”

“I know how old you are.”

“Why are you cutting your hair?”

“It, uh... It gets in my face sometimes, and it’s annoying. Anyway, I’m not cutting it.” I put the scissor on my bed. “Is there something you wanted? What’s up?”

“I’m supposed to be bringing Buffalo chicken dip to Matt’s party.”

Are you fucking serious?

“What? Didn’t this party start—” I look at my watch. “Fifteen minutes ago? You’re telling me now that you are supposed to be bringing a very specific dip? Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday? Or this morning when we went shopping? Where the hell am I supposed to find Buffalo chicken dip right now? I’m leaving in an hour.”

“You’re not supposed to find it somewhere. You’re supposed to make it.”

I stare at him blankly. “You do realize it takes more than an hour to make, and I have none of the ingredients.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going to Applebee’s, and you’re getting spinach and artichoke dip.”

“What? No! I said I was bringing Buffalo chicken dip.”

“That’s not an option at this point, Danny. If you would have told me this sooner, you would have had Buffalo chicken dip.”

“You’d rather go out with Hayley than make sure I have what I need!”

I freeze. Is that what this is about?

“Whoa. You do notneedBuffalo chicken dip.”

“I’m going to look so stupid!”

“I wish I had these problems when I was your age. Jesus, Mary, and St. Joseph...”

I tie my hair back and pick up my phone. I search online for the number of the Farmingville Applebee’s and dial. A man answers. He tells me they don’t have Buffalo chicken dip, which I already knew. I ask for three orders of spinach and artichoke dip instead.

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