Slammed (Slammed #1)(2)
As I make a final right-hand turn onto our street, my GPS informs me that I've "reached my destination."
"My destination," I laugh aloud to myself. My GPS doesn't know squat.
The cul-de-sac is not very long, lined with about eight single story brick houses on each side of the street. There's a basketball goal in one of the driveways, which gives me hope that Kel might have someone to play with. Honestly, it looks like a decent neighborhood. The lawns are manicured, the sidewalks are clean, but there's too much concrete. Way too much concrete. I already miss home.
Our new landlord e-mailed us pictures of the house so I immediately spot which one is ours. It's small. It's really small. We had a ranch-style home in Texas on several acres of land. The miniscule amount of land surrounding this home is almost nothing but concrete and garden gnomes. The front door is propped open and I see an older man who I assume is our new landlord come outside and wave.
I drive past the house about fifty yards so that I can back into the driveway where the rear of the U-Haul will face the front door. Before I put the gear shift in reverse, I reach over and shake Kel awake. He's been passed out since Indiana.
"Kel, wake up," I whisper. "We've reached our destination."
He stretches his legs out and yawns, then leans his forehead against the window to get a look at our new home. “Hey, there's a kid in the yard!” Kel says. "Do you think he lives in our house too?”
"He better not," I reply. "But he's probably a neighbor. Hop out and go introduce yourself while I back up."
When the U-Haul is successfully backed in, I put the gear shift in park, roll down the windows, and kill the engine. My mother pulls in beside me in my jeep. I watch as she gets out and greets the landlord. I crouch down a few inches in the seat and prop my foot against the dash. I lean my head back and watch Kel and his new friend sword fight with imaginary swords in the street. I'm jealous of him. Jealous of the fact that he can accept the move so easily, and I'm stuck being the angry, bitter child.
He was upset when mom first decided on the move. Mostly because he was in the middle of his little league season. He had friends he would miss, but at the age of nine your best friend is usually imaginary, and transatlantic. Mom subdued him pretty easily by promising he could sign up for hockey, something he wanted to do in Texas. It was a hard sport to come by in the rural south. After she agreed, he was pretty upbeat, if not stoked about Michigan.
I understand why we had to move. Dad had made a respectable living managing a paint store. Mom worked PRN as a nurse when she needed to, but mostly tended to the house and to us. About a month after he died, she was able to find a full-time job. I could see the stress of my father's death taking its toll on her, along with being the new head of household.
One night over dinner, she explained to us that she wasn't left with enough income to continue paying all the bills and the mortgage. She said there was a job that could pay her more, but we would have to move. She was offered a job from her old high school friend, Brenda. They grew up together in my mother's hometown of Ypsilanti, right outside of Detroit. It paid more than anything she could find in Texas, so she had no choice but to accept. I don't blame her for the move. My grandparents are deceased and she has no one to help her. I understand why we had to do it, but understanding a situation doesn't always make it easier.
"Layken, you're dead!" Kel shouts through the open window as he thrusts his imaginary sword into my neck. He waits for me to slump over, but I just roll my eyes at him. "I stabbed you. You're supposed to die!" he says.
"Believe me, I'm already dead," I mumble as I open the door and climb out. Kel's shoulders are slumped forward and he's staring down at the concrete, his imaginary sword limp by his side. Kel’s new friend stands behind him looking just as defeated, causing me to immediately regret the transference of my bad mood.
"I'm already dead,” I say in my best monster voice, “because I'm a zombie!”
They start screaming as I stretch my arms out in front of me, c**k my head to the side and make a gurgling sound. “Brains!” I grumble as I walk stiff legged after them around the U-Haul. “Brains!”
I slowly round the front of the U-Haul holding my arms out in front of me when I notice someone holding my brother and his new friend by the collars of their shirts.
“Get ‘em!” The stranger yells as he holds the two screaming boys.
He looks a couple of years older than me and quite a bit taller. "Hot" would be how most girls would describe him, but I’m not most girls. The boys are flailing around and his muscles flex under his sleeves as he tries hard to hold onto them.
Unlike Kel and I, it's unmistakable these two are siblings. Aside from the obvious age difference, they're identical. They both have smooth olive skin, the same jet black hair, even the same cropped hair style. He's laughing as Kel breaks free and starts slicing at him with his "sword." He looks up at me and mouths "help," when I realize I'm still frozen in my zombie pose.
My first instinct is to crawl back inside the U-Haul and hide in the floor for the remainder of my life. Instead, I yell "Brains" once more and lunge forward, pretending to bite the younger boy on top of his head. I grab Kel and his new friend and start tickling them until they melt into heaps on the concrete driveway.