Discovering Rose

Chapter 7

The same afternoon, Thea drove me home, saying she would love to meet my parents and see where I lived. Her car only had two seats, being a mini, and it was a bit of a squish with both of us inside.
"So, do you have any brothers of sisters?" I asked, trying to ignore the fact that I was being thrown around in my seat jerkily.
"Two brothers, one sister. More than enough. You?"
"Just me."
She began talking and chatting away as we drove back to mine, occasionally swerving randomly around corners. Her family sounded a little crazy, but friendly, and close. Well, she did have a lot of confidence.
She pulled backwards on the brakes, as a car came driving past. To be honest, I think Thea was more to blame with her crazy driving. The sound of screeching tyres entered my ears, as Thea muttered some foul words about the driver. Then we were off again, jerking around corners as I tried to hold on to the door, holding back my laughs at Thea's extreme driving.
She opened the window, hooting at a passerby who started yelling something I couldn't hear, neither could Thea as we sped away. "My cousin," she explained. "So, have you met any Benedicts?"
"Benedicts? Oh, yeah, yesterday in music."
"You didn't tell me?" she clutched at her heart in mock horror, turning to the road just in time to swerve around a black cat who had the nerve to sit in the middle of the road. "Who?"
"Zed and Yves."
"Isn't Zed just ... " she sighed wistfully. "But then again, I've got my eye on Yves. Cute glasses, handsome..."
I grinned. "What did you say the others were called again?"
"Trace, Uriel, Victor, Will and Xavier. Notice the pattern?"
"Yeah," I said, realizing their names went down alphabetically. "Strange names, but cool."
"Yeah. I told you about their occupations, right?"
"Yeah."
"Seven sons. Three still at home, in the house at the top of town, next door to the cable car station. Older ones in Denver."
"Cable car?"
"Yeah, their dad runs it during the season, all the Benedicts are amazing. Xav's thinking of taking it professionally. Not sure why he wouldn't go for it. This your house?"
"Yeah."
Nick and Josie were still unpacking stuff when we got there, but most of it was out now anyway. They seemed delighted that I had a friend over so soon, offering her at least five different type of home-baked biscuit. Thea accepted almost all of them, complimenting Josie on  
her baking skills.
"These are amazing Mrs Carrigon," Thea said through a mouthful of ginger bread.
"Please call me Josie," Josie smiled.
"And me Nick," Nick added warmly.
"So Rose, did you pick up any baking talent from your parents?"
Me, Nick and Josie exchanged looks.
"Er, no," Josie said. We had always decided to stick to the truth when people asked.
"I'm adopted," I explained. "It was a little ...complicated before my adoption."
Complicated? I'd been dumped outside a pub when I was five or six, not even able to remember my own name. I had been found by social services, not talking to anyone for four years, until Josie and Nick had adopted me.
"Oh, sorry," Thea blushed. "I didn't mean to bring it up."
"It's OK."
"Cool," her smile returned. "See you tomorrow."
"Don't you want to stay for tea, Thea?" Josie asked as Nick continued hanging up photos.
"I would, but I need to get back. Family outing," Thea explained, picking up her school bag. "But thanks for the invitation. Maybe we could do another time."
With a friendly wave, she stepped outside.
"I like your friend," Nick said, when Thea was gone.
"Yeah, glad to see you've settled in," Josie agreed. "Was your day OK?"
"Yeah, it was great," I replied, smiling. "Better than I expected."
"Well that's good to hear."
So long as I didn't bump into Miss Sheehan again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Great. All I had needed to do was grab some eggs and get out. Not accidentally get involved in a conversation with Mrs Brockman. As well as chattering on about school, she had also managed to get me to be her collector, running around finding all the things she needed.
"Rose honey, I'd like a chutney pot."
I glanced up at the tallest shelf. She was taller than me and couldn't reach it. And I was supposed to be able to. May as well try anyway. I put my hands on my hips and glanced up at the shelf.
"I've got a good mind to call the manager about these tall shelves," Mrs Brockman muttered as I tried jumping.
"No, no," I said hurriedly. I wasn't keen to be there for that. "I can get it."
"Oh look, there's one of those Benedicts. Xav - Yves?"
I also noticed Zed walking along the isles, tapping his jeans in rhythm, glancing at all the stock.
"Zed," I corrected her. "Mrs Brockman, I really need to be-"
"Maybe we can call him over."
What would you say? Excuse me Mr Tall and Good Looking, could you please help the English midget reach the chutney pots? I think not.
"I can reach it," I said again. I reached out for a shelf and hoisted my foot onto another. Suddenly, I slipped, and landed in the middle of the isle. The row of chutney pots wobbled dangerously, and came crashing down, smashing all over the tiles. A shop assistant came running over to help me up, and look at the mess.
"I am not paying for that!" Mrs Brockman started to rant.
"It was me," I said, pulling out my purse.
"Put your money away honey, we all saw what happened. It was an accident. Main thing is, are you okay?" The assistant turned to me.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I blushed, as another assistant came, towing a mop and bucket along. Zed sauntered over, and plucked the last remaining chutney pot from the shelf, handing it to Mrs Brockman.
"Why thank you!" Mrs Brockman beamed at Zed. "What a charming boy."
"No trouble," Zed said, glancing over at me. "Ma'am."
I was confused. American boys were weird? It seemed even the trouble makers were drummed in with a polite streak.
"And hows your family?"
I slipped away with a soft bye, glad Mrs Brockman had found another victim to interrogate.
"Thanks a lot," I heard Zed mutter sarcastically at me. His fault.
Outside the night was frosty, and dark. Suddenly, I heard a loud roaring behind me, and spun around to see Zed weaving through the traffic on his black Honda. So he obviously knew how to cut a conversation short with Mrs Brockman. I was filled with confusion as he slowed down next to me, following me quietly along the road.
"What?" I turned to face him.
"Sorry?"
"Why are you following me?"
"This is my way home."
I muttered something and continued walking.
"Hey, um Rose, right?"
"Yeah. What?"
"This may sound, er ... weird but...don't go out alone at night."
"Huh?"
"Just promise me, you won't go out alone, okay?"
No, not OK. He was one scary guy.
"You got that right," he grumbled, jumping off his motorbike and leaving it against the rack. What? I hadn't said that out loud, had I?
He growled and kicked the pavement, swearing under his breath.
I'd done something. To make him angry.
"No you haven't! Just listen to me! I saw something the other night. Knives and screams."
He looked at me through dangerous eyes.
This had to be some sort of joke.
"It's not! Listen to me!"
I froze.
"I'm just scaring the hell out of you, aren't I?!"
He stormed off, swearing and muttering, kicking at the lam-post as he went back to fetch his motorbike.
So that went well.