The Day Hope was Murdered

13. Gutter Balls are my forté

// Chapter 13: Gutter Balls are my forté \\

I decide to search the rest of the house. And you can imagine how specific one has got to be when they're searching for such a small object. It takes a lot of time. Before I knew it, I was outside, digging through the garage when I hear my mom's voice.

"Leila! It's time to eat!"

Relief washes over me, as I need a break from all this searching. I wearily head inside the house and am surprised to find an actual home-cooked meal laid out on the table. The last time we had a home-cooked meal was with Hope . . . Guess my mom really has changed.

I stare down warily at the table. "What's this?" I ask.

My mom doesn't even look up from the task at hand when she replies, "It's chicken-pot-pie."

"I know that. I mean, what's with you cooking dinner. Is there a special occasion or something?"

She finally looks at me. "Can't a mother cook a nice, home-cooked meal without being questioned about her motives?" She sighs. "Look, I know I haven't cooked for a while, but as I said, I'm finding ways to occupy my time." Finally finished with cutting the pie, she sits down at the table.

I take that as my que and sit down as well. "Okay . . . well, thank you. It looks great." I grab the spatula and get a piece of the pie with it before setting the piece on my plate. "Where's dad?" I ask.

My mom is now getting herself a piece of the pie. "Oh, you know, he's at work."

"I thought his shift always ended at five?" I think back on the past few days. "You know, now that I think about it, he's been gone an awful lot. Did he take on an additional shift?"

My mother sighs and sets the fork down that had been on its way to her mouth. "Not an additional shift. He got another job."

"What? Why?" I exclaim amidst a mouthful of food.

"You'll have to talk to him about it," she says firmly.

And that's the end of our conversation.

I hurriedly finish eating the surprisingly delicious meal and before heading upstairs to my bedroom to get ready for tonight, I help clean up the table.

"Thank you," I say to my mom.

As I leave the room, I hear a distant "you're welcome."

I bound up the stairs, open my door, and immediately throw myself onto my bed, exhausted from all the searching I did earlier. I decide close my eyes for just a moment.

A few minutes later, I open my eyes feeling very refreshed. Time to get ready for bowling. I look over at my bedside clock and I have to wipe my eyes a few times to make sure that I'm reading it correctly. "Eight-thirty!" I yell. "Ahh I must've overslept. This is not good. Not good." I condone myself as I start to pull on some non-wrinkled clothes. "Leila, why oh why are you such an idiot? You make a new friends and then you blow it by being late to hanging out."

Twenty minutes later I'm rushing into the bowling alley. I sweep the masses of people with my eyes before they land on that familiar red hair. She's already in the lane, playing a game with some guy, it appears. Not wanting to disrupt their fun, I'm about to turn around and leave when she spots me and waves me over.

I wave back and walk over to where she's standing. "Hey, I'm so sorry I'm late. I laid down for a second and it turns out it wasn't actually a second, more like two hours, and I'm really really sorry."

I hear a chuckle from my right and turn to see none other than Thomas Moores standing there. My mood plummets even further.

"It's totally fine," Tiffany is saying.