My breath is laboured by the time I finally
reach his house. I stand at his doorway and take a small breather. As soon as I
catch my breath, and the burning in the legs fades away, I knock twice and then
open the door. I kick off my boots at the entrance and walk over to the
staircase directly across from the front door. I yell up the stairs, “Owen! Get
your ass in gear!” and then head over to the kitchen. I open the fridge door
and look around. After some scavenging I find a slightly bruised apple and
place it on the kitchen counter. Opening the cupboard doors and finding no
clean glasses, I pick one out of the sink, rinse it off, and then fill it with
water. I take the apple and glass of water to the dining room table and sit
down across from it. “OWEN!” I yell again, and waiting a few moments, I hear a mumbled
response and a loud thump. Heavy footsteps resound above me and quickly make their
way down the staircase. A very large, young man stands in the doorway leading
to the kitchen. He stands near 6’7”, broad build, all muscle. He has short dark
brown hair, and even darker eyes. First time I met him, he intimidated me. He
was so tall and big, and I just assumed the worst of him. He proved me wrong.
First time I talked to him, I was eight years old. I was on the swings at the
park. He had walked over to me and asked if he could use the swing beside me. I
had only stared and numbly nodded. He smiled at me, sat down and began to pump
his legs, back and forth. He continued to swing higher and higher, until he was
almost parallel with the top bar of the swing. He then leaped from the swing
seat and flew through the air, landing on the ground in a heap. My eyes were as
wide as my mouth at the time, hanging open in shock. I leaped off the swing to
his aid, afraid he killed himself. I pushed him over onto his back and stared
down at him. He peaked through his eyelids, and attempted to hide a smile. “Ugh
I think I broke my body!” he groaned and rolled over, right onto my lap. “Hold
me as I die. Don’t let me die alone!” he swooned. I scrunched my nose at him
and placed my hands on my hips. That little faker. I pushed him off. “Don’t
scare me like that!” I punched him in the arm hard and he laughed at me. I don’t
really remember what happened after that, but ever since we have been best
friends.
“Took you long enough to get ready,
Owen.” I say, and smirk as he rolls his eyes at me.
“You have got to be kidding me, Sia.” He
says, calling me by a nickname that only he has ever used. “I was down here in
less than five minutes!” he walks over to the table and sits on the side where I
have placed the rotting apple and the dirty glass of water. He looks down at
the miserable food in front of him and gives me a look of incredulity. “Seriously?
You cook all the time at your house; you couldn’t get me something a bit better
to eat?”
“Not my house. You either eat it, or go
make something yourself.” I cross my arms over my chest in defiance. He snorts at
me, and takes a bit from the bruised apple. He cringes, but continues to stuff
the apple into his mouth.
“So
we going to the City Centre?” he says through a mouthful of food. I nod my head
in response.
“Yeah, I figured we could go to the
market, see if anything new came in from the eastern cities.” Owen responds by
placing the apple core on the table, and proceeding to chug the glass of water,
placing it back on the table when he finishes.
“Well, better not waste any time then.
The sooner we get there, the more likely we will get there before anyone else
and get all the good stuff.” He smiles at me and then sprints to the door. He slips
on his boots, a jacket, and a thin pair of mitts and toque. I tug on my boots,
hopping on one foot, and tip over and hit the wall in the process. Finally getting
them on, I look up to see Owen yawning and looking at his wrist. I glare at him
and punch him playfully on the arm.
“Let’s go.”
