Chapter Two: Nicknames

A Chapter by Melancholydreams

Nicknames stick to people, and the most ridiculous are the most adhesive.

Boston

II-Nicknames

"Tom, Avery, come down for lunch!" I looked up from my practically dead game console at Aunt Susan. Aunt Susan was a beauty pageant contestant when she wasn't pulling shifts at Best Buy when she was around my age. She was aiming for the title of Ms. Massachusetts, and as pretty as she was, she still a missus and still had a long way to go before she could reach Ms. Boston.

Tom store impassively at the pathetic excuse for a TV, twelve inches with the antennas sticking out, thick as my head. It was as old as I was, but he still never asked for the newer HD flat screen ones that my dad boasted about having in our living room. It should have been collecting dust at the bottom of a garbage heap, or at least the basement because of the whole eco-friendly craze. But he had grown a strange attachment to the hunk of metal, focusing on the first person shooter game, killing zombies as he went. He continued to keep his uninterested blue eyes and tap on the controller as if she hadn't spoken.

"Tom." Aunt Susan said more gently, which in my opinion, wasn't the way you called someone who didn't want to listen to you. She touched his shoulder gently, and he let loose the most feral howl, grabbing his shoulders in agony, dropping the console with a resounding CLANG! Pathetic tears that shouldn't have been seen on eighteen year old, sobbed uncontrollably. I openly gaped at him, mute in shock. Susan recovered quicker than I did, tears pricking her eyes, already reddened with repressed tears. "Baby I'm so sorry, so sorry..." she chanted, barely touching him.

And thats when I saw it.

I stared uncomprehendingly until he buried his head into her chest, exposing his neck as he bent forward. Deep pink swollen marks peeked up above his shirt, suggesting he had been burnt some time ago. There were small cuts, one leaking blood as he stretched. I held my mouth, swallowing the immediate bile that rose to my throat as I stared. Thomas had something to say to me tonight.

"He has Leukemia." he answered nonchantly, exhaling a joint. We stared at each other, him waiting for me to speak, me trying to think of something to say. I tried to speak around the lump in my throat. "Why didn't you tell me?" I answered, choked. He finally had to decency to look away. "The Chemo's helping." I thought back to the chaffed burn marks and his howling cry. The blood. "Don't you care?!" I spat, all my withheld frustration and sadness, turning to anger, just bubbling to the surface. He turned the brown Jenkins's family eyes to my own. "What do you want me to do? Scream? Cry? Pray? It's not going to make anything better, and its definitely not going to make Tom feel any better." he answered me coldly, turning his back to me. Thomas was his father, He was supposed to have hope for son. I sucked in a scream and stormed off, but not before I snatched the cigarette and stomped on it for good measure.

"I thought your name was Nora." I whipped around, causing my ear buds to fall out. I fumed at the blue eyed photographer, his camera still shoved into my face. "Who told you that, 'Heffner'?" Under the lenses, (all but pushed up against my nose) he smiled. "Ryan. And I have my ways." I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what those 'ways ' were. "You making a movie or something?" I picked up my sandwich boredly, picking off the crust. He had gone oddly silent, I spotted a blank look on his face from the corner of my eye. he lowered the camera, a cloud passed over his cerulean-like orbs. "Something like that." his gaze flickered to the leaves, a lovely ray of sunshine hitting his eyes just right, a million facets of colors caught in his dark eyelashes. didn't know we were still talking until I saw his lips move, barely catching the gist of his words as my middle name slipped from his lips. "Avery doesn't sound girlish at all! I'm going to call you...Nora." I choked, a sudden lump in my throat as I coughed the Lipton green tea, pounding on my chest. I opened my mouth, about to protest when he dropped a bottle into my lap. "Ginger ale's your favourite right?"

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