If Everyone Cared [Sean]

L.C. had been comforted by the van, surprisingly. She liked large vehicles, they made her feel safe. Older vehicles were the same way. It smelled nice and it was comfortable, a duo that lulled her into a decent sense of security for the ride home. Coupled with Sean’s driving, which wasn’t in a jerky, stopping on a dime style, she had almost fallen asleep on the ride, something she was prone to do as a child. She remembered when James had picked her up, she had fallen asleep right after he had taken her to dinner, where she had devoured everything placed in front of her with reckless abandon.

The teen attempted to keep a calm face on, but her eyes darted everywhere, from the bay window and turret on the second floor to the landscaping surrounding her- tiny trees and pretty bushes, some of which were already stripped barren by the autumn. She scratched the back of her leg with the top of her foot, a common nervous habit, and forced herself to sound unexcited about a guest room. “Oh. Cool.” she shrugged like any normal teenager would, but she rocked back on her feet and then forward to her toes, stepping forward only after he had picked up his briefcase and gone ahead. She failed to suppress a smile, although she managed not to break out into a childish grin. She reminded herself that powers were off limits here. No spikes whatsoever were allowed on the premise. “Wait, towels? I get my own bathroom?” She realized this halfway up the walkway, eyes widening to the size of tea saucers. It was probably only a small bathroom with a shower sink and toilet. Like one she had seen on a Sims game. She shouldn’t be so impressed, but she was. She had shared a bathroom her whole life, with her Mother and her brother and then with a bunch of teenagers that alternated between walking in on her and kicking the door down. (Sometimes literally.)

Dinner. She calmed herself. She knew her way around meals. She could navigate this, just like she did with her Mother. “Anything’s fine. Chicken or cheeseburgers are okay, I just don’t like mustard or onions or mayo. Any restaurant is okay either. Oh, and I’ll drink any soft drink. Mountain Dew if they have it.” She smiled, thinking she had figured that out very well. After all, he couldn’t possibly plan on cooking for her. Cooking meals, especially one with meat, was only for special occasions. If cooking was required, because her Mother was sick or it was Saturday (scrounge/date night) it was normally macaroni and cheese or TV dinners made in the microwave. Usually she would just make a sandwich with cold cuts and watch TV with her brother. “…I like Wendy’s.” She offered after a pause, smile faltering a little. Was she too demanding? Should she not have said all that? Was she too picky with her food? She didn’t offend him, did she?

L.C. went where she was directed and sat, pulling up her feet so she was cross-legged in her chair. She scratched at her scalp and rested the side of her face on the palm of her hand, watching Sean in silence as he cooked. The humming of voices on NPR in the background made for some nice ambience- she felt like she was right at home. “It’s not that boring. I saw worse on T.V.” She assured him, wishing he would ask her to help or something. She was a working kid. Whenever her mother cooked, L.C. did most of the work during her Mother’s frequent smoking breaks, measuring milk, watching the inside of the oven because sometimes the timer was off, and stirring things like pasta or sauce. She was the master of stirring the powdered cheese into mac & cheese. Her brother had told her so whenever they made it.

“Huh? Oh. Just a little.” She said, motioning with her index finger and thumb that ‘a little’ was about half an inch. “I’m not big on ice.” Chalk it up to Magda- she had taught little Lyra that ice in drinks was just a way to get less of already watered-down soda. People in the carnival did it all the time, filling cups three fourths of the way full with shredded ice. Leave it out in the sun too long and what you got was a concoction of something that was eight-tenths water and two-tenths a bad aftertaste. Whether it was from force of habit, or from personal taste, L.C. still did not like ice in her beverages. Iced tea was an exception- it was ‘iced tea’. Not having any ice in it would defeat the purpose.

The blonde sat in silence for a bit, relishing the quiet between them for a moment. It was just the hum of the radio and the lights, and she didn’t mind it, really. She wasn’t much of a talkative person, but she still felt odd, sitting there and doing nothing. “I can set the table.” She offered, trying to be a polite guest. Despite being raised in questionable conditions, she knew how to do a correct table setting. Needless to say, it surprised a lot of people. Whenever her mother had a date over, Lyra was put in charge of vacuuming, dusting, and setting the table- two chores her mother and brother hated, the third made strictly to busy her because as a young child she was always very precise about things. Her work with a vacuum was questionable, but when it came to table setting, she knew where everything went, even when it came to folding napkins. At the moment, she wanted to help- subconsciously, it was to show her appreciation, on the surface it was because she hated being idle- so she stood and moved to the island in the center of the kitchen area, ready to be directed to a cabinet where the dishes were laid.