wrote this little drabble yesterday and decided that I’m gonna try to be brave and actually post something to my writeblr for once! Not sure whether this’ll end up in my final WIP yet (it’s set 10 years before the other stuff I’ve had written for it) but I think it was a good exercise to write it.
Word Count: 721 words
Once they’d changed into their pajamas, the twins snuggled into one of the hotel beds. Their mother sat on the other, her phone to her ear. “Don’t be absurd, Kenneth. I’m not sticking two six-year-olds on a plane to Florida by themselves. If you’d spent more than an hour around a child at a time you’d—Don’t speak to me like that. If you want to see them so badly, one extra plane ticket shouldn’t mean squat. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Was that Dad?” asked Bella once their mother had hung up.
“If I have anything to say about it.” She plugged the phone into its charger and strode off to the bathroom. “Go to sleep, Bella.”
The twins sat there in the bed, both too excited and not tired enough to sleep.
“I can’t wait,” whispered Bella.
Luke nodded. “I hope he’s happy we’re here,” he whispered back.
“Of course he is!”
“Quiet in there, you two.” Their mother emerged from the bathroom and loomed over them. “You can’t sleep and talk at the same time.”
“What about sleep-talkers!” cried Bella, indignant.
“That’s enough from you, young lady.”
The two of them stayed quiet after that. Luke closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. If he pretended hard enough, maybe he’d eventually fall asleep and then it’d be tomorrow and they’d get to see Dad.
If Dad really wanted to see them. Luke was pretty sure there wouldn’t be so much shouting on the phone between him and Mom if everything was fine and he was happy they were there. Anyway, if Dad really wanted to see the two of them, why would he go to Florida all of a sudden anyway? It must’ve been something Luke had done. He ran through it all in his mind for the gazillionth time, trying to figure out which thing it was that had made Dad mad enough to move away to Florida.
Maybe it was the one daydream he’d had, the one he’d never said anything about. Thinking about it made him feel almost-queasy, like the way you feel after you get punched in the stomach and it stops hurting but your insides still feel scrambled. Maybe Dad knew Luke had thought about those things, even without Luke saying. Parents were good at that, looking at you and just figuring out what’s in your head. And now he knew Luke was a bad kid who thought about things no one should think about and he wanted to run away to Florida instead of stay at home with them because he was scared of getting hurt because his kid was a bad person.
Luke rolled over in bed. “Bella?” he whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Mm,” Bella groaned.
“Am I a bad person?”
“Go to sleep.”
If she really thought he wasn’t, she’d answer. “Do you think I’d ever hurt Mom or Dad?” He said it in the tiniest whisper he could make so Mom wouldn’t hear him.
Bella hit him with a pillow. That was enough of an answer for Luke.
They weren’t supposed to get out of bed in the middle of the night unless they really had to go to the bathroom very badly. But his head was too full and his stomach hurt and that was almost like needing the toilet, so it wouldn’t even be a full lie if he went. He slid out from under the covers and tip-toed over, following the faint glow of the hotel’s little bathroom night-light.
The bathroom cups were wrapped in plastic. Luke tried to pull that off without making any noise, but when it ripped it sounded so loud. Mom would definitely hear it and then she’d come in and she’d ask him why he was in the bathroom and he’d lie and say he had to use the toilet really bad but she’d know and then she’d know that he was a liar. And then he’d have to tell her the truth because you know what happens to liars and then she’d know he was a bad kid and she’d move to Florida too.
Luke ran back to the bed and buried himself under the covers again, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Maybe if they were both in bed. she’d blame Bella for getting up without permission and ripping the cup open.
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