‘Did she tell you what type of food she likes?’ Aunt Janice asked Sineas as they helped each other set the table. She had not yet changed out of her running tracksuit.
‘No,’ he answered her. The time was now 6:45 P.M. His heart was beating frantically. He could feel himself sweating. He had never invited anyone over to his house. A few hours ago, when he did, he thought the moment would never come, but each tick of the clock brought him even closer to his greatest anticipation yet, or was it his greatest doom? He would find out in less than fifteen minutes.‘Come on, Sineas,’ said Aunt Janice, ‘you must have seen what she eats for lunch?’‘I’m quite sure apples and bananas aren’t the ideal meal for supper, Aunt Janice,’ he answered while placing the forks on the table. There were no fancy utensils or china to wow anyone with so the Murphys made do with the stainless steel and chipped glass plates.
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Psych 23. 'Home Invasion!'
‘Sorry about…what happened back there,’ Sineas said to Clarissa when he opened his bedroom door. She followed closely behind him as he stepped into the darkness. Her eyes surveyed the nothingness. She clutched her books tighter to her chest. She could only make out the bed and the wide open window which let in gusts of cold wind at five second intervals. ‘Lights?’ she asked him as he dusted the bed with his hands.He paused. ‘Oh, yeah, of course…the lights.’ He sat on the foot of the bed. ‘This room doesn’t have any.’‘Why?’ she asked curiously, standing in the middle of the room.‘It’s a long story,’ he replied.‘Then…’ her eyes surveyed the darkness again, ‘How do we work on the assignment without the light?’‘I’ve got a flashlight?’ he suggested. He looked intently at her black figure from the bed.
Psych 24. Wrath
Clarissa was deaf as she descended the stairs with astonishing speed. She was muttering something probably to herself and kept glancing over her shoulder.Sineas was in hot pursuit.‘Th…Thank you…Thank you for supper, Miss, Mrs. Murphy,’ she stuttered facing Aunt Janice who looked awestruck whilst standing behind the couch in the living room. Clarissa concluded with a quivering nod then made for the door. She banged it in Sineas’ face.He could hear her soft footsteps as they descended the steps. He heard them reach the pavement then patted their way into oblivion. Sineas was left staring hopelessly at the door. He began rubbing his fingers nervously. He heard slow and steady footsteps approach from behind him.Aunt Janice looked serious. Her fingers were twitching continually beside her. ‘What did you do?’ she whispered at him.He bowed his head low. ‘Nothing,’ he whispered back.‘That sur
Psych 25. Skeletons
Sineas woke up ten minutes earlier than his alarm. He hurriedly took a shower, put on a black t-shirt, blue jeans and his white Nikes. He rushed downstairs and went straight for the kitchen. Aunt Janice had beaten him to it.‘Your breakfast and lunch is ready, son,’ she told him as she stood by the sink wearing her running tracksuit. She had obviously woken up and taken a shower before him. Her hands were clasped neatly underneath her chin, a grin flashed across her face. ‘Sliced bread with avocado spread and left over Coca-Cola for lunch,’ she added. ‘And I threw in an extra slice just in case it wasn’t enough.’He smiled awkwardly and dismounted his bag, one band at a time. ‘Thank you, Aunt Janice.’ He snatched the lunchbox from the table and headed for the door.‘And breakfast?’ her grin asked him before he had made it past the kitchen exit. ‘Rotto Pop cereal,’ she added.He looked over his shoulder. His favourite cereal had been poured into a bowl and a tumbler of mi
Psych 26. Biology Class
‘Yes, Sineas..!’ She looked like she could cry at any moment. ‘It felt like…like desolation…misery, hopelessness. Pain. I, myself can't even describe it.’Sineas was now through with his lunch as well. He twiddled his thumbs under the table for about a minute. He slid across the bench and stopped by her side. He realised he was too close. He thought about it, but he did not move away, worried that the action would make the scene even more awkward.‘Claire…I’m sorry,’ he said after a moment of silence.She sighed deeply. Her expression quickly abated. ‘No, Sineas, I’m sorry. I think these days I’m becoming a little too paranoid. A few minutes into your room and I felt something seep into me…into my soul (if there is such a thing). It was just the cold, and my mind quickly started jumping to conclusions. Sineas, I’m really sorry.’He shrugged understandingly. ‘
Psych 27. Past Bedtime
Miss bale lowered her head. She began to march slowly towards their desk, her hands still behind her back. It looked like she was on her way to a closed casket funeral. She had stopped with the notes. The only sound in the class was her stilettos clapping on the floor. The echoes they made were like a warning of an approaching catastrophe. An unavoidable destruction.She stopped right in front of their desk. Sineas could feel her gaze upon him. He did not look up, however. All he could feel in that moment was the smell of her perfume. It would have been nauseating on anyone else, he thought, but on her, it was like a heavenly scent. But still, that did not stop him from feeling uneasy.She cleared her throat in authority. She placed her hands on the desk and lowered her head to his eye level. ‘Funny enough to share with us?’ she said.He looked aside, eager to avoid her knife-like gaze. She was close enough to kiss him. Or close enough to chew him up
Psych 28. The Beauty and the Shadows
‘Is someone out there?! I’ve…I seem to…I think I’ve been locked in,’ she was panting. She was trying to get hold of her breath. ‘Mr. Thompson! Mr. Thompson! The door!’ Her breathing was so heavy it echoed through the room. She leaned her back against the door. The room was pitch-black. She squinted hard to try and catch a glimpse of anything. Anything at all. The windows emitted very little light. Just a foggy glimmer. Her eyes could only make out the outlines of objects in the room. They continued to scour; past the windows, past the desk edges, the indistinct chair legs. Her eyes finally rested on a peculiar object in the far right corner of the room. She focused her eyes a little harder, the best she could. It looked like a shadow sitting on a desk. Her fear told her it was facing her direction. She tried the door again. ‘Mr….Mr. Thompson! The door..!’ Fear was choking the air out of her lungs, aided
Psych 29. No one Wants the Truth
Aunt Janice opened the door for Clarissa. ‘Clarissa! How good of you to make it!’ she greeted her rather spectacularly. She opened the door even wider for her and she stepped in. Aunt Janice was wearing a black sweater and blue jeans, a mini afro on her head. Clarissa on the other hand was wearing her white turtleneck sweater, jeans and pumps. Her hair, as always, had been pinned into a rabbit’s tail at the back of her head. Her hands were loosely clasped just in front of her waist. ‘Good morning, Miss Murphy, and please, call me Claire.’‘In that case, you can call me Janice.’She gave her a half nod, grinning broadly.‘You can take a seat in the kitchen. Sineas is still in the shower.’‘Thank you, Miss…Janice.’ Janice’s half stern look had corrected her just in time.A few minutes later, Janice had placed a bowl of peanut butter porridge in front of Clarissa.She th
Psych 30. Clean Slate
Several minutes later, Sineas stepped into the kitchen. His skin was glowing. He had slipped into a black t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans and black-and-white All-Star Chuck Taylors.‘Is Claire here yet?’ he asked his aunt as he patted his cheeks.She leaned her back against the sink and smiled at him. ‘No, not yet, my boy. Have a sit and I’ll fix you up some peanut butter porridge.’He smiled and sat down. He kept touching his hair nervously. He breathed into his hands and brought them to his nostrils. After a quick whiff, he made a satisfactory grin. He rubbed his hands gleefully as Aunt Janice placed a bowl of porridge and a spoon in front of him. He didn’t waste time and immediately began to drill it away. He was sitting in the same seat Clarissa had been sitting in. Aunt Janice sat across him. ‘Sin, my boy.’‘Yes?’ He continued ravaging the porridge.‘Sin…my boy,’