I opened the front door and slammed it shut.

"Mike? Honey? Is that you?" Mom asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "I have returned."

"I am in the kitchen if you would like me to fetch you a snack. You must be famished."

"No thank you, Mom. I am not in the mood."

"You do not have to be in the mood to be starving. Just listen to your stomach. It must be growling."

"I did listen to my stomach on the way back."

"And...?"

"And it is not hungry."

There was a moment of silence in the kitchen. "Would you please come in here?"

"Do I have to come in there now?"

"Are you questioning the lady who gave birth to you?"

"Absolutely not. It is just that...I do not feel well."

"That is why I want you to come in here. I would like to check on you. After all, it is unusual for you to refuse a snack. Plus, you have been out for a pretty long time."

I trudged into the kitchen. "Hi, Mom."

My mother was at the kitchen counter and washing the dishes. She was wearing rubber gloves, and sweat was pouring down her forehead. She was drying off a plate when I came in. She finished drying the plate and set it and the towel on the counter. She turned her attention to me and smiled.

"Hey, honey." She took off her gloves and laid them on the counter. "How was it?"

"How was what?"

"How was it hanging out with your friends? Both your father and I know how busy they are after school."

I gazed at the floor, and then back up at her. "I...do not think that our friendship will ever be the same again."

"What makes you say that?"

"It...it is complicated."

"Then let us talk." She walked over to the kitchen table and patted the top of it. "Take a seat, Mike."

I shook my head. "I do not want to talk about this now, Mom. Not tonight. I would rather be asleep in bed."

Mom is probably the most beautiful woman that I have seen. Besides Marisa. Oddly enough, she looks nothing like me. Her skin was pale, and her hair was short and orange. She had freckles on her face, and her lips were bright red. She had on a bright yellow, sleeveless dress that touched her knees with low heels. My mom always wears this pearl necklace that Dad gave to her one year for their anniversary.

"You will get a good night's sleep once you tell me why you are not feeling well," Mom said.

"I am not feeling well because I am sick."

That was technically the truth. I was not truly sick, but I felt like it. I felt like that I was going to puke.

Mom plopped in a chair. "Then come over here and let me check your temperature."

I trudged to the kitchen table, and she rested her hand on my forehead. "Hmm...you do not have a fever."

"I feel like that I do," I groaned.

"Do you have a headache? Or a stomachache?"

I shook my head again. "I have a frustrating-ache."

"'A frustrating-ache'? Never heard of that before."

Knowing that Mom would not let me go to my room in peace, I pulled out a chair and plopped in it. I laid my arms on the table and tapped my fingers.

My mom stood and patted my back. "I will return with your father. I think that he should hear what you have to say too."

I rolled my eyes and said, "Great."

I wish that she did not leave me in the kitchen. I really wish that she did not leave me alone. 'Cause the anger that was growing inside me would worsen.

I can thank Fright Train for that.

As soon as my mother disappeared around the corner, I heard it. Heard the noises of some train on its tracks. I gasped and sat up. Sweat was all over my skin.

"No," I said. "No, no, no." I covered my ears. "It cannot be time." I glanced up at the clock. "I am right. It is not even midnight!"

I did not need Fright Train on my doorstep. It was bad enough that Dot loved Carlos instead of me. Now I had to deal with the flippin' train.

"I am going to be hearing it for a while," I said. Then I got an idea. "Maybe I do not have to."

I scrambled out of the kitchen and upstairs. I went into my room and shut my door. I pressed my back against said door and scanned my room for what I wanted and needed. I had to concentrate on something else so that the train would not drive me insane again.

I took my phone out of my pocket and plugged it in. As much as I wanted to use my phone, it was almost dead, so I decided to not use it until it was fully charged. I set my phone on my nightstand and walked to my wooden table next to my bed. My laptop was on said table, and I opened it and switched it on.

"What music should I listen to?" I asked myself. "I had better choose fast before the train gets closer."

My laptop came on, and I clicked on the search engine. I typed in my favorite music and waited for the results to load. I tapped my fingers on the table impatiently as I clenched my teeth.

"Why can you not leave me alone?!" I exclaimed at the top of my lungs. My frustration was growing with each minute that passed. "I wish that you would just go!"

"Mike..."

"...huh?"

"Mike..."

"That does not sound like Mom or Dad."

I walked to my bedroom window and looked outside. I covered my mouth.

There was Fright Train...

...and Marisa was on it.