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Month: February
Character: Demescus “Dreu” Wolf Jr.
Entry: 25


 

The room was no more interesting than the first time when he was stuck waiting “out of the way” in it. The walls were still a puke beige, there was still a stain under the piano, the hard couches still had an ugly paisly theme, and it was still absolutely, pain numbingly boring. It was meant to serve as a sitting room for guests and when they were doing business, it served as a sad playroom for him.

Dreu rolled to his back with a sigh. At six he understood what it all meant. He had to be good. He had to stay out of sight but he wasn’t six anymore. He was ten. The least they could do was allow him to have friends over. That would be plenty distraction. A win-win if he could convince Senior. His chest fell in a heavy sigh when he remembered who his controlling father was. There was no way anybody would be coming into the house.

Hearing the turn of the door handles, he sat up. Nobody was supposed to be checking in on him either. Both Senior and Bol hammered that in. “When in the room stay quiet, never come out, and never let someone in.” Those were the rules and yet someone was letting themselves in. Was that allowed? He questioned it till he saw that it wasn’t just someone. It was a girl who looked barely older than him half hidden behind his all too competent bodyguard.

“Dreu, this is Cayai.” The sun that streamed in bounced off Bol’s bald head as he maneuvered himself behind the girl. ” Do you think you could keep her company?”

“Can I?” Dreu questioned indignantly.

Bol smiled and gave the girl a small push forward. “I’m sure you will be great friends.”

Dreu glanced at Cayai. She had her hands behind her back. It struck him as weird since she looked to be uncomfortable. Though, he also figured that was because she was stuck in a puffy dress. He saw Bol’s smile disappear behind the double doors and wondered what was the point. There wasn’t anything to do besides play with the piano but that went against the keep quiet rule which brought them back to boredom.

“Is it lonely here?”

“No,” he lied, “I like being by myself.”

She squeaked out an “oh.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her wander over to the piano. Her small hands went out to touch the keys but he was faster than her. He was on his feet and closing the lid before she could get him in trouble. He didn’t like following orders but he hated being locked up. It was plenty reason to ignore the pout she gave him.

“My fingers were there.”

“We can’t make noise. Didn’t they tell you anything?” Apparently being her company meant teaching her too. “Rule one, be quiet. Rule two, don’t leave the room. Rule three, don’t let anyone in the room.”

“But I only wanted to touch it.” She looked up at him and he felt his attitude falter. Her eyes were kinder than any of the people who usually passed through. Kind like his mothers.

Shaking it off, he pointed at the camera in her hand. “What’s that for?”

She looked down at it as if she had forgotten about her own thing of interest. “It’s a camera.” She raised it up for him to see, though, he was fairly sure she could tell he was thinking just how stupid that answer was.

“Why did you bring it here?”

“I like pictures.”

The answer was so simple yet annoying. It didn’t explain why she brought it to a stranger’s house. It wasn’t like she knew what was going to happen. “Just don’t touch anything.” With the warning issued, he went back to his spot to stare up at the sky high ceiling. Maybe she’d get so bored she’d sleep. He hoped.

A whirring preceded the telling click that had him groaning. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

All the innocence in the world wasn’t enough to make him blind. Turning his head, he saw her finger press the button that sealed his glower in a picture. “Stop taking pictures of me.”

“No.”

“No?”

Her curls bounced when she shook her head. “The light looks nice.”

Groaning, he sat up to point at the window. “Take pictures of out there.” He was sure the trees looked nice too since they were bathed in sunlight.

“Do you have any paper?”

“You need that to take a picture of trees?”

“I want to compare how they look in pictures to how they look in drawings.”

He glanced over his shoulder. The sketchbook was well hidden between the books on the end table. There was no way she could have seen it. “What for? Trees are trees.”

“I bet you can’t make them pretty.”

The challenge hung between them till it finally worked its way under his skin. He’d show her.

 

© 2014 Maura D.

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