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family with endless opportunities, but still, her mother never seemed satisfied. Maybe that was only in the last eight years. She didn’t really remember too much of how her parents interacted before. She was only ten. If someone had told her to pay attention, to notice the details, she would have, but no one did and this was her life now, the third wheel of a family stuck somewhere between anger and grief with a little pinch of denial mixed in.
    “She’s a resident there,” she explained after chugging water to wash down the dried out chicken.
    “What did you two do?”
    “Nothing. I let her talk.” Annabelle shrugged, wishing they could go back to silence. Sometimes the idea of something was better than the real thing. Interacting with them was painful. A painful reminder of how they were no longer a family.
    Her mother nodded and her father pushed food around his plate. The rest of their dinner was spent in tense silence. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her parents actually have a conversation together. One that mattered anyway. One that wasn’t completely superficial.
    Annabelle rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension before excusing herself from the table. The hopeless weight she carried around with her seemed to get even heavier in that moment. After she’d cleared her plate she lazily walked to her room to finish her homework and hopefully sneak in a little messaging time with Damon before her Internet time was revoked for the night.
    Annabelle’s week sped by despite being stuck at home. She finally managed to read the books that had been stacked on the floor beside her bed. Her teachers were impressed that her assignments had been turned in on time. Every dinner with her parents since her first day volunteering had been bland and awkward. They hadn’t spent this much time together in eight years and it was very evident. All parties fumbled their way through simple conversation.
    ~ *** ~
    Hello, Jezebel,” she greeted the woman from the doorway.
    “Ah, so the girl does have a brain. I’d wondered how long it’d take you to get my name.”
    Annabelle ignored the woman’s jab and wandered toward the window. A beautiful potted plant bloomed generously. It hadn’t been there last week.
    “That’s pretty. What is it?” she asked Jezebel.
    “Gloxinia. It represents love at first sight.”
    “You got a boyfriend in here?” She raised an eyebrow at the woman. It would be hilarious to hear about that romance.
    “Darling, I have a man, there is no boy in him.” She winked.
    Annabelle found herself blushing at Jezebel’s words.
    “Are you going to tell me more of your story today?”
    “Possibly, but first, let’s talk about you. I hardly know a thing!”
    “There isn’t much to tell. I live here in town. I’m due to graduate in May and hopefully head off to college after that.”
    “You literally could be any one of thousands of girls. Nothing personal was shared.” Jezebel frowned.
    “I guess there isn’t much more worth sharing?”
    “What makes you tick, Annabelle? What are your parents like? Are you in love with your boyfriend? What are you going to do with your life? Are you musical, artistic, book smart?”
    Annabelle looked out the window and fiddled with the cuffs of her shirt sleeves. “My family sucks. My parents hardly speak. Damon is fun but I’m eighteen, how should I know if it’s true love? And frankly, my biggest goal is to get the hell out of this town, state, and start over somewhere.”
    “You’re awfully bitter.” Jezebel said tartly.
    “Am I?” she asked turning her focus back to Jezebel.
    “I’d say. You’re far too young to sound so . . . jaded. You’ve only just started your life. Why do you say your family sucks?”
    Annabelle sighed. She wasn’t interested in talking about her family and their issues, but Jezebel seemed fixated on the topic.
    “Well, we’re wealthy enough. My mom never seems pleased by anything. The house is