- Cas -
The warmth in the house is flawless. I breathe a sigh of relief and unzip my coat, nearly bumping into a side table next to the door. Directly ahead is a white staircase, and next to it is a small hallway lined with photos, leading to a lighted room - the kitchen. Sparrow's mom has already disappeared. I look over at Sparrow, who's hanging her coat on a rack in the nearby living room. She smiles at me and motions to take my coat, and I pass it to her.
I feel like if I had seen this house in photos, or if I had just been here one day, I would have known that it was the house Sparrow lived in. A number of soft-looking scarves are hanging on the coat rack, all of them some shade of purple. The living room has dark curtains that are thrown open to allow the whitish light of winter. In the center of the room is a black podium stacked with thin books, and on the ground, a white violin rests in its case. Have you ever noticed how certain people have these distinct smells? This house is filled with a Sparrow-smell.
Sparrow gazes around the room and then tells me, "When we moved here, I took charge of decorating this room." I can tell. She motions across the way, to a charmingly cluttered room painted light blue. "...and my mom took that one." There looks to be a sewing machine in there, and scattered samples of fabric piled up in order by color. The desk holds a typewriter and chaotically piled papers. Sparrow's mom seems to like piles.
Her voice floats in from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"
Sparrow heads toward the hallway. "Wait," I stop her. "I didn't realize I was staying for dinner."
Her eyebrows rise up with the corners of her mouth. "Aren't you hungry?"
"Yeah, but... I don't want to intrude."
She gives a short burst of laughter. "Oh my God, you dork!" She touches her hand to her forehead for a moment, grinning, then looks up at me. "Stop being so darn polite. You're not intruding at all. We're glad to have you. Really."
The kitchen is lit in warm yellow light, and Sparrow's mom is setting a large bowl out on the table. "Is there anything I can help with?" I ask, eliciting an eye-roll and a smile from Sparrow as she's pulling dishes out of the cabinet.
Her mom turns to me, sliding a few placemats into my arms. "Just put these down, dear," she says, already bustling away to stir a steaming pot on the stove. I unfold the placemats and flatten them out on the round wooden table. Behind it, a bay window with the blinds pulled looks out on the snow-laden backyard. There are four seats at the table, but only three place settings. I lay them out so that the empty seat doesn't feel so conspicuous, wondering who's missing.
"So how do you kids know each other?" Sparrow's mom asks. I head over to take three plates out of her hands before going back to the table, hiding my smile. "I ran into Cas at the grocery store," Sparrow says. I can't see her expression because she's turned away to grab silverware out of a drawer. "And we just... became friends." She shuts the drawer and turns back around. Her eyes are on the silverware in her fists, but then they stray up to meet mine. We both smile.
"What exactly resulted in Cas driving you home today?" Sparrow's mom has pale eyes and long, dark hair - the inverse of Sparrow. Her skin is even a tad darker. When she raises her face to look at me, I can see the similarities - they both have straight noses and nearly identical profiles. But Sparrow's face is petite where her mom's is long.
"I walked to the Stop n' Save from school," Sparrow explains. Her mom seems to begin to protest, but Sparrow cuts her off. "I couldn't get a hold of you, and no one at school was willing to drive me anywhere, so I went out and just started walking and then I saw the Stop n' Save so I stopped there to get warm and Cas was there and he took care of me. And drove me here. So I'm okay and we're all good." She exhales all of this, and I feel like she has done this sort of let-me-explain-before-you-murder-me type of convincing before. She stops and looks at her mom tentatively, unaware of what her reaction will be. But her mom has turned to me fixes me with a gaze that I can't read.
She comes over and puts both hands on my shoulders. My eyes flick to Sparrow's as she looks on in amusement, but then back to her mom's. I find honesty there. And she tells me, "Thank you for driving my daughter home." Then she hugs me. I wrap my arms around her as softly as I can, looking at Sparrow again. She's just smiling. "Uh, you're welcome," I say, then add, "It was... no trouble at all." Sparrow's mom takes a step back, but before she turns away she tells me, "You're a good kid, Cas."
Sparrow gives me a shrug, and I go to help her remove cups from the cabinet. Since I'm taller, I pull them out and pass them to her, and she picks them up, two in each hand. "Aww, look at this!" she's saying as I close the cabinet. Having put down the others, she's gazing at a mug that's sloppily painted pink and blue and white, with raised flowers all over it and a chipped handle. Its polished glaze shines in the light. Sparrow holds it out to me, her expression radiant. "I made this when I was, like, ten. Isn't it lovely?"
I take it from her and examine it for a moment. "Yes, lovely is definitely a word I would use to describe this mug." I laugh at the mock angry expression that comes over her face before I go to set out the rest of the mugs. Sparrow's mom brushes past me to put a pot down in the center of the table, and Sparrow drops the silverware on either side of each plate.
"Is that everything?" Sparrow asks, sitting down across from me and smoothing her skirt. Her mom pulls off her oven mitts and dusts off her hands. "I believe so," she singsongs, taking the chair next to me.
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