old: Socks and Cookies

“Higher, Mom! Higher!”
I looked over to see a kid, my age, playing on the swing beside me. But I noticed that he wasn’t alone; a woman with light brown hair down to her shoulders and a heavy fringe was pushing him.

She was smiling, and was gently pushing the boy on the swing-chair.
I could hear him giggling, and when I looked at him, I really noticed how much he looked like his mother.
They had the same eyes, a lovely grey. And their smiles were identical, and they were both kinda tan.

But where the Mom had light brown Kit-Kat coloured hair, the boy had blonde hair like white chocolate.
The Mom then glanced over at me, and I quickly starting staring at me sneakers again, swinging so lightly that it could have been the wind pushing me.

"Honey?" his Mom said.
I was just about to start swinging a bit harder when something touched my shoulder.
"Woah!" I yelped, flying of the swing with my hands flailing. I landed with an 'oof', before scrambling onto my feet again (I was quick at that 'cuz I had way too much practise at getting off the ground).
I twisted around to see both the Mom and the boy staring at me.

"Oh...." I said, understanding. "You were talking to me..."
The Mom then smiled again, and I had a really wierd feeling. I felt a sort of warm cuddly-mushy fog in my stomach.
"Honey, I was just wondering if you were here alone. Where's your Daddy? Or maybe Mommy?" she asked, looking at me with as much concern as a mother should have for her OWN child, not some stranger she met in the park.
"Um..." I said, unwilling to reveal too much.
Suddenly, her son hopped off his swing and tugged on his Mom's arm. "Mo-om! Look at her jeans! They're all torn, and I think she hurt herself," he said, pointing at my legs.
I glanced down and was surprised to see a dark patch spreading accross the ripped frayed fabric of my jeans on my right leg.

"Ow," I said bemusedly.
Then HE grinned at me, his grey eyes shining. The foggy feeling intensified.
"O, dear! I'm pretty sure I have some tissues in the car..." his Mom said, looking worried.
"Really, it's fin-" I started, but she cut me off.
"It's okay, sweetie. You just stay here, I'll go get them...and maybe a band-aid as well..." I noted that she seemed to be talking to herself, counting things of on her fingers.
I shot a look at the boy, who shrugged and grinned sheepishly. Apparently, his Mom was like this all the time.
"Honey, you stay with Shane, okay? I'll be right back," she said, already rushing off to the gates which led to the road.
That's where they park the cars, I remembered.

So," the boy said, "What's your name?"

I started with surprise, before looking at him.

"Your names Shane," I remembered.

He nodded ambiantly.

"Yeah...And what's your's?" he asked, looking really curious. I smiled slightly; why did he care so much?

"Shane...." I said slowly, trying it out. Then I grinned. "Yeah...I like it. How old are you, Shane?"

He looked at me funny.

"What?" I asked, self-concious.

"Are you determined not to answer my question?" he asked amusedly.

I narrowed my eyes jokily. "Are you determined not to answer mine?"

He smiled wider, showing his teeth. "Okay, I'm eleven. Now it's your turn."

"Where's your Dad?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He laughed. "I don't think so! You answer my question, or there's no way I'm telling you any more!"

I smiled, and decided that I liked Shane. "Well, my name is Annalise. Annalise Freeman."

He nodded happily. "That's really pretty," he said.

"Thanks," I said, surprised. "Hey, wait a minute! I told you my name, so what's yours?"

He gave his funny look again. "I already told you. I'm Shane."

I rolled my eyes. "I know THAT, I meant your second name!"

He made an 'o' shape with his mouth and nodded slowly. "Saunders."

I nodded. "Cool. O, and I'm eleven too, by the way."

I smiled at him shyly, and he gave me a 1000-WATT grin back.

Yup, I decided. I really liked Shane.

"Okay, so I couldn't find the band aid, but I found the tissues, even though they were thrown under the seat, SHANE."

I looked up to see Shane's Mom walking back to us briskly. She was looking at her son accusingly. He shrugged, uninterested, and turned back to me with an open mouth, obviously intending on asking me more questions, but his Mom -Mrs. Saunders, I reminded myself - beat him to it.

"So, tell me, what's your name, sweetie?" she asked me, motioning me to sit down on the swing that Shane had jumped off of.

"I'm, uh-" I was cut off by Shane.

"Her name's Annalise, Mom. Don't you think that's such a cool name?" he asked animatedly. I smiled at him, before hopping up onto the seat.

Mrs. Saunders nodded, and said, "That IS beautiful. Now, can you roll up your jeans for me please, Annalise?"

I nodded silently, and grabbed  the hem, yanking it up carelessly.

"O, careful!" she cried. "You're going to hurt yourself. The cut looks quite wide!"

I shook my head scornfully. "Trust me, it takes more than a small cut to make my cry. Anyway," I added, glancing down contentedly, "it's not too deep anyway."

She stared at me again. "You sound just like someone I used to know, you know?" she said distractedly, unwrapping the band-aid.

"Really?" I asked, intrigued. "Who?"

"O, you wouldn't know him. Actually, me and my husband, and of course Shane-" she then gestured to Shane, who was standing a little way back, scrutinizing me -"we moved back here for his funeral. We were all very close in college, and Shane was just a baby when we moved."

While she was telling me all this, she'd been smoothing out the dirt and small stones from my leg, and gently pushing the sides of the cut together.

"What was his name?" I asked, dreading the answer. It couldn't be...could it?

Please don't be him, please don't be him, please don't be him, PLEASE don't be him, I begged silently.

"He was Lloyd Freeman. He was a great friend, and so was his wife, Natalia."

Only after she'd stuck on the band-aid did she notice how tensed I'd become.

"Annalise? Are you okay?" Shane asked, also noticing.

I stared straight ahead, not saying anything. Mrs. Saunders gently shook my shoulder. "Sweetie? What's wrong?"

"Does you cut hurt?" Shane offered.

My lips were pressed in a tight line; I could feel my eyes withdraw.

And then suddenly, without giving them any warnings, I leapt of the swing and started sprinting for the park gates.

"What the-Annalise!" Shane called, already 20ft behind me. I could be fast if I wanted to be, and right now, I wanted to get away from these nice new people.

Shane and Mrs. Saunders were looking at me in confusion when I turned the corner out of the park.

I didn't stop to call back thank you, and I didn't even acknowledge them; all I wanted was to get away from them.

I wanted to get away from the memories of my father's death.

I sprinted down the sidewalk until the flat was in sight; only then did I show signs of ever stopping.
Going up the stairs three at a time, I used the banister to haul myself up.
I finally reached our apartment, and I leaned down with my hands on my my knees to support myself.
I noticed how much I was panting, and cracked a smile.

Sounding like a dog, I bent down lower and, reaching inside my left sneaker, I pulled out the flat key.
I wrenched the door open and ran in, slamming it shut behind me.
My heavy breathing had slowed down enough for me to be able to laugh, and I began to. Bitter giggles rolled out of me as I retrieved a mug and filled it with water from the tap.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and went over to the sink.

"When did it become against the law to get a dishwasher?" I grumbled, hurriedly rinsing it and putting it on the drying rack.

I then ran down the hallway to the room at the end; my room.

Well, not just my room, I reminded myself yet again as I kicked open the door.

There were three beds; one with plain blue covers, another with green and the last with white.

I flumped down onto the last one with a sigh.

We'd moved into the flat two weeks ago, when Dad was still alive. The financial problems were getting worse, and we could no longer afford the semi-detached house we'd lived in previously.

So Conner, Sandy and I all had to share a room, and my Mom and Dad would share the couch-bed in the sitting room; the flat was tiny.

It basically consisted of one hallway, about ten metres long and one-and-a-half metres wide. There were doors leading off it.

The kitchen, the bathroom, the sitting room (which had the desks and work-stuff too) and the bedroom.

Sandy (short for Alexander) and Conner were my older twin brothers, but only by roughly ten months, so we were all in the same year at school.

I was worried what people in school would say if (probably when) they found that we shared a room.

Anyway, it was a week later that they found the body.
Dad was never a very stable person; it was only reasonable to think he'd taken his own life...
But I remember the crime scene.......
I shuddered, and pushed the thought out of my mind.

Instead, I started thinking about Shane and his Mom.

They were both so nice to me, and I just...

I sighed, and nuzzled into the pillow. Why did I always have to mess up everything I touched?

Suddenly, an idea came to me.

Was Shane joining my school?

I grimaced at the though. What would he say if he saw me again? Hey, why did you run away like a madman the other day?

School was NOT going to be a pleasant ordeal.

Add to that that it was a new school, so we could be closer to the flat, and that I wouldn't know anyone, and I had myself a great big bowl o' poo.

"I hate my life," I mumbled listlessly.

Then I yawned...

-Dream-

I was in a room. The walls were white, and totally bare. There was a window on the far side; it was the only colour in the room.

I walked over to it, wanting to see some colour, an absence of the insistent white blankness.

The view was breath-taking.

I was looking over a river, like in Venice, but this one was empty, except for the light water which was reflecting the buildings and sky. For some reason, the water wasn't running, but laying still like in a lake.

I could see myself, looking down from the window in the smallest building there.

Suddenly, over my shoulder appeared a face; he had grey eyes, ashen blonde hair, a beautiful smile.

It's Shane, I realised with a jolt.

He had his arms out, behind me. I frowned at the smooth rever surface- what was he doing?

I felt his hands come in contact with my back.

In the river, I saw him lean forward, putting his mouth to my ear.

"Murdurer," he whispered.

And he pushed...

I woke up with a scream.

"AAAHH!"

"Woah!" someone exclaimed, while another man cursed.

I looked around, disorientated, to find myself in my room.

I was lying on my plain white sheets, just like I'd been when I'd fallen asleep.

But also in the room was the rest of my family; Mom, Conner and Sandy.

There were also two strangers.

They're policemen, I noted with a start, staring at their uniform.

"Nice of you to join us, Tracey," one of the men said.

I felt my face twist up with extreme confusement. "Um... my name's Annalise...not 'Tracey'," I finally managed to say.

The one who had talked turn to stare angrily at my brothers. Conner shrugged sheepishly, while Sandy said, "What can we say? Memories of a goldfish!"

I giggled unintentionally. The other policeman was still staring at me. He didn't say anything, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

The other man turned back to me and said, "I'm PC Jennings. And this is Detective Craig. We're here to ask you a few questions."

I tried not to, really I did, but I couldn't help it. I raised an eyebrow.

"You do realize I'm only eleven, right?"

PC Jennings growled slightly, and Detective Craig just kept staring at me, almost STUDYING me. I began to feel unnerved.

"Annalise, they want to ask you about..." Mom started, but she trailed off suddenly, unsure of how to go on.

"How did you're father die?" PC Jennings asked me abruptly. "Did you see anything? I've been told that you two weren't close; do you know anything? What did you do, kid?

"And who's Shane? What is it about Venice? Why do you keep leaving the house for the whole day-you don't have school yet, kid, my daughter's your age and all of you are on summer vacation.

ANSWER ME!" he shouted at the end.

I blinked.

Sandy stepped forward together, and said, "Sir, I think you should leave."

Conner nodded.

PC Jennings leapt up, furious. "What the h3ll, kid! You think your twelve year old a$$ can talk to me like that! I'd be care-"

He was cut off by a quiet, calm voice. "Let's go, Mark."

Detective Craig stood up slowly. He was an old man, his hair very thick and white. He had a wonderfully bushy mustache, and had the cigar-smoker look about him. He wasn't wearing glasses, and I noticed a walking stick in his hand.

PC Mark, who looked about Mom's age, with brown hair and a small goatee-like beard, spluttered.

"But-but..." He trailed of listlessly as he realised it was useless.

Mom looked at them stonily. "Thank you, and now please leave," she orded them coldly.

Detective inclined his head to her in the way I thought only gentlemen did in the movies.

"Of course, Ma'am. Thank you for giving us your time."

With that, he strode out, holding his dark walking stick loosely and calmly placing it on the ground.

PC Jennings trailed after him dejectedly, but not before he managed to give a death stare and hiss, "I'll be back, punk."

I snorted. Could he have said any worse of a cliché?

Mom opened the bedroom door for them stiffly, and after giving me a look saying 'talk to your brothers', she followed them out, closing it gently behind her.