The silly looking clock over my shoulder screeches to mark the entrance of 8 in the night.

I cast one casual look straight into Dolorous's eyes before setting them back on the poster face, just 2 feet upwards of her eyes. In such a manner that, she'll soon receive a tingling sensation that someone is watching her, like the primal, inborn instinct we all have. Then she'll look at me only to find that I am not starring at her and it would take a momentary examination of a couple of seconds for me to drop a glance at her glare.

Trapping her into thinking that it is she who first began the staring game.

I learned this neat little trick from someone whose name I cannot recall right now.

So far I have been intently observing their interactions as the two protagonists in the room are gleefully exchanging sentences as they jump from one fabulous topic to another. Clearance is playing the sensible third wheel by agreeing in some of their points and adding a spot of joke or a petty remark wherever he could.

I am currently non existent, like a shadow behind the bed.

"So, tell me something really exciting that happened recently. Like very recently." She adds the unnecessary "very" to enforce her attention whilst the giggle follow throughout the air.

"The baseball game. We won! Didn't I tell you that already?" Jackie chirps as his arms fling around to find a believable evidence around his bed, like a lost tooth from the hard throw or an X-ray of a damaged ankle, chink of missing thigh skin.

Something exciting.

"Oh, damn ! The trophy! Ah! The trophy!" Jackie groans out the missing relic of our victory before Clay or I could point out the fact that--"Damn ! Harvey's got it for the week!"

He curses as his hand slaps the pillow on the bed with the plight on his mind as a mystique force.

The gaily smile is still erected on his face. He is far from being regretful.

"That's no trouble. I'll call him up and tell him if he could bring it in tomorrow." Clay drops in with his rational answer as he stoops away from the closet door and towards the bookshelf.

"No, no. That's fine. He doesn't need to bring it here." A switch flips inside Jackie's taunting happiness.

I fix my critique-esque monocles on the drama's climax.

"What? Alright. I would love to see it though." Dolorous answers as she lays herself back on the chair, her hand soon swimming through the long strands which are flowing down like a waterfall.

"I'll get it for you, Jackie. Don't worry about it. You know Harvey. He's probably bored from kissing that thing over and over again." A grunt of disgust floats into the air from Dolorous as the other two squints in laughter.

I cannot contain myself from joining as my line of sight breaks and Dolorous casts a good look at my posture.

I am a part of the decor.

I am the wooden plank of the bed.

I am the furniture.

I cannot explain how the feeling of hostility has formed towards Dolorous. Maybe it is the impression of her mother whose picky eyed response to everything has dusted off on Dolorous's image.

Maybe it's her hair who holds the resemblances towards someone I cannot remember the name of right now.

Maybe it's the quirky feature of her words, in the way she utters a word that mellows down the air to my ear. Just as her face retracts itself back to its original place, a little clinch of her chin brings out a pimple, hanging loose on the edge of her disposition.

'Listen to your first instinct.' is the moral I learned from a TV show I used to watch as a kid, right before the champion died to countless bullet wounds.

Western episodes really likes their heroes filled with .45 holes.

"How's the Elvis Ridge? Is it still filled with . . .  'homeless kids'?" She prods to the fact of recreational drugged, wasted adolescent are a common theme on the border of that side when the evening glow dies out.

"Yes. Still."

"Huh? Pity. Because guess what I bought with me?"

I crane my neck higher to grant myself a stare of their expressions.

"You bought the camera?! Please, tell me you did."

"'Course I did, Jackie boy. I know how much you love that thing!"

"Damn. Dolorous ! This can't get any better. Even if you . . . you try."

"Jackie, I don't even have to try to make it better."

She gasps the self acclaimed compliment as she leans back just enough to pull her hair towards her dorsal before the silky strands slick of her fingers and smash into her shoulder.

A new corrupting emotion catches over Jackie's face as the glow on his eyes are unmistakable while his smirk proceeds to enlarge and elongate itself to an unique smile.

I am strangely daunted to Dolorous for her effect on Jackie.

"I know where you guys can go to take some pictures if you like." Clay announces as he climbs on to the side of the bed. His smile is pure and deprived of any cross examination and slyness.

Clearance is destined to work in public relations where a thousand faces of countless nobodies slump down a bundle of needs and complaints.

"The--um the giant Coca Cola sign . . . on the wall near East? Remember?"

"That? Yeah . . . yeah that's a good one. Well, that's a great one."

"Yeah, it's huge, red and clean. Very attractive."

My eager eyes pick of another row of youth filled laughter in the air from the courtesy of Clay's brilliant, humorous implications.

I let my low canine poke my upper teeth flesh to induce a bout of physical discomfort.

"And we can get the welcome sign. There's a bit of tree and a meadow . . . kind of a meadow in there too."

"Which is literally full of shit. We are rumored to have ponies around once but all you'll ever find is dung."

The second tier of laughter elongates its presence on everyone's faces for quite some time before blending in with the air.

I have averted my eyes from above Dolorous's head and lobbed it towards every snicker of move on Jackie.

His jaw muscles are twitching with ecstasy, the anxious elements of his steady character, constants flaring of eye at everything is currently absent as his gaze plunges first at Dolorous, then to Clay and I receive the conclusion of his leftover happiness.

"Hey, we can get your friends in it too. I mean, you guys aren't exactly . . . . teen models but hey posers are dreamers too, you know?"
"You don't hear me complaining." Clay delivers the joke but Jackie soon pops in with the disapproval.
"That might not be the best idea . . . ever."
"Why? Please don't tell me you are ashamed to hang around with me." She pouts her lips in artificial despair before Jackie swoons back his hair in quick restoration to his words.
"No . . . it's definitely not you." Jackie crosses an answer before his back hand slashes his neck uncomfortably from fathoming the sense of every bit of reputation in his life.
"Oh, is it us?" The question shoots from Clay's lips as they induce a sensational bout of comical frown at Jackie before slumping down on the pillow with the same mocking sulk screeching from his face.

Dolorous laughs out as Jackie prolongs the stuttering compensation.

He is pumped with the affection, the excitement of dear comforters nearby.

He is at a dilemma between happy and crazy, undoubtedly it is the best sort of dilemma he'll ever get to face in his life.

"Jacks, you friends are nothing compared to what I have to deal with, back in Birmingham. Trust me, they are social monsters. And not even that social."
"No, they are great. Mostly."
"Mostly." Clay echoes as he chirps another set of cackle before leaning back on the wallpaper.
"Besides, you always write such nice things about them in your letter. Very descriptive too."

The air swoons to a silent melody as I enlarge my presence by crafting another peak at Jackie's facial function.

He never told us about Dolorous and especially the prospect of writing letters to a mystery woman from some place called Birmingham is fully embarrassing, as well as a feature to tease in the future.

He is abashed with his stretched pulled skins where most of the blood's attendance has turned his jowls to a bright red.

I am petrified with all the little sins that I don't know about my friends.

"Yeah." Dolorous crunches the acclamation with pride. " You should see some of his letters. They are adorable. Partly, thanks to his slightly girly handwriting. "
"Oh, God. Dolorous ! Come on!"
"Haha! It's fine. He has been known for that in school."

The three creatures in the room are struck by the sensual humor of the conversation.

I am the silently, observing shadow.

"Let me see if I can get this right." She announces as the carriage of her body swings towards us whilst the patch of her long hair kneels down in front of her shoulder.
"You've got a friend who's very good at Baseball and also does the annual debates. You also told me about his long family you see whenever you visit him. And Clearance is . . you!"

She casts her sharp finger like a wand at Clay who's relaxing posture has been broken by her sudden display of brilliant deduction.

"And I definitely did not get any clues from you calling him Clay. Since-" She chuckles with the air of sarcasm breathing out of her mouth. "Since . . I couldn't possibly know Clay could be short for Clearance."
"Guilty as charged." Clay's teeth bombards another smiling glare out.

I am not amused by this.

"And Kenneth, the one who's really bad at Advanced Math . . . hmm isn't probably here because I don't see an overgrown 5 feet 11 walking around tonight."
"Yup ! You are right." Clay's enthusiastic voice snaps the air in pause.
"Jeez, Jackie. You do talk about this." His joke pump the remaining blood of Jackie's skinny bod up to his head.

He currently looks like a lovechild of a tomato who had a shunned, secretive intimate relationship with a pumpkin.

It's hilarious.

"And you." She catapults her distinctive glare of attention towards me.

I receive a rigid row of chills forming on the nape of my neck.

I know exactly why the sensation of confused anticipation is being signaled by my body.

Dolorous is close to Jackie. As am I to him.

Therefore, her opinion of mine is an undoubted standard for him to follow or judge myself by.

"Are you . . ?" She pauses for the dramatic effect to shower me with the cruelty of suspense.

I hate to admit it but it's working.

"You are . . good at sliding into bases and . . currently failing in Geography?"

The chilling sensitivity falls down on its face for a passing second. I am momentarily astounded by Jackie's knowledge about my Geography studies.

I am not failing. I got a C. Mr. Fransisco insisted that I stay after school, just because I once again mixed Turkey with Morocco.

The mist is still consisting between her view and I.

"I'm sorry . . . I completely forgot your name."
"It's Godfrey!" Jackie announces like a host of a competitive game show on Sunday late but I cannot spot any flare of confetti.
"Oh! Frey! Yes! How can I forget the name. You're the one with the interesting character. I'm sorry I totally forgot your name. I have been reading Tolstoy lately and he makes the lives of noun difficult for people who didn't live in 19th century Russia."
"It's fine. You are not the only one."

The trickery of the scene is in play since I haven't uttered anything communicative throughout the whole evening and the virgin experience of exchanging lines is both a first for her as it is for me.

"So, you seem to like Baseball more than everyone."
"Is that Jackie told you?"
"Among other things."
"Well . . . it's not . . Harvey likes it too."
"Not like you. He's a phony . . . an arrogant and annoying phony." Jackie bumps in as the little spot of chocolate departs from his mouth and lands on his off white gabardine.
"Is Harvey's the rich kid?"
"Yup!"

Countless time of laughter rolls around in an untold unity between Jackie and Dolorous. They are probably both remembering some private incidents about Harvey which strikes the mutual response of sarcasm.

"Have you got any siblings, Frey?" She asks as a frontal lean from the soft caress of the chair punts her remaining hair forward. The brown smoldering locks are forming a vine from the floor to the roof.
"No. My mother's in social. She's very keen about family planning. I'm solo . . . like Jackie."
"Jackie's not solo." Her respond shuts the air from any juvenile laughter to seep out since a sneer of emotional placement is being showed at this very moment.
"He has me. Technically, we are not siblings. I am his cousin."

A affectionate prod from the snuggle of her hands land on Jackie's cheeks as the already reddened cluster of skin transforms into a deeper color.

Currently, he is magma.

"And no. I don't want to hear any 'cousins' joke, alright?" Her goofy laugh with the tone of accusation smacks onto Clay since he is the more communicative one in the choice between us, even though he doesn't practice that sort of infantile behavior towards anyone.
"Of course not. Definitely not." Clay nods punctually.

The conversation is rendezvousing to its junction of future planning of what should be, could be done during her stay. An idea of visit to our school is demolished before it can be elongated to a decision, especially by the sheer number of hormone stricken teenagers who are sadly, known to us and act as our friends.

The limitless chirping about the camera shuns everything and everyone, even Clay who's friendly disposition was being thrown back and fourth has suffered a quick halt as it is one of those exclusive little secrets that only Dolorous and Jackie has the privilege of knowing.

I have become invisible again and in that state of unawareness, made the cookies on the plate invisible too.

"You know what we can do?" The volcano full of fluttering brainstorm bursts once again as her hazy ballad of laughter crosses the boundaries of boredom.

I am hypnotized by the woman, on an unusual feature of her because she loves the tingling emotion of life itself, as if every moment with a cousin she has seen in a probable long time, is nothing less of a blessing.

"Home movies !"
"Oh, please no. Not again."
"Again?!" Clay's excitement explodes on the promise of anything humiliating of Jackie.
"Yeah, haven't you seen the previous ones?"
"Dolorous ! Shush!"
"Oh, he hasn't shown you, huh?"
"Not that we know of." Clay's aflamed pique notices me as his elbow prods with the same sensation of enthusiasm.
"Dolorous ! No. Simply, no. It's so . . . embarrassing."
"What? It isn't. It's cute!"
"Yeah, Jackie. Show us!"
"Never in a million years!"
"How about this Friday? I got a V.H.S back at my house."
"Clay ! Wha---why?!"
"Perfect!" Dolorous announces as she leans forward to harass her bag further to grab hold of a bulk of a camera, with an array of confusing buttons poking out of every crevice and side it has.

I have been around the " News House " to see enough cameras which are just older than me in some years. Big, old, noisy and requires a mechanical engineer who has mastered the art of poking in special places for the films to run properly. But I have never seen something like that.

"I shot some rolls back home and on the road trip. We can see those too."
"But not my old ones, please."
"Especially your old ones. " Clay asserts as he dodges a swatting motion from Jackie. "What?! It's not me. The lady insisted."
"And I did. You should see how my parents argued the whole way. It's so hilarious that it's annoying."
"No one could have guessed that from her irritating voice, shooting at everything."

The sentence almost slips from the edge of my lips and onto the air; a corrosive gesture that will surely mark me down as some unethical, sarcastic, walking talking machine not only to Dolorous but also to Jackie.

My flesh prodding canine saves me from the glaring consequences.

I put it down as things I should not do tonight.

"But Aunt Lisa still looks as young as I last saw her." The deeming sense of a flashback is in her voice as she departs from the chair and onto the headrest on Jackie's bed, beside him.

I catch a glance at them as their reflection sits reversed in his bedroom mirror.

They hold the flawless posture of the image of a perfect brother and sister pair.

The thought of Margaret catches me, off guard.

"It's always so good to see her. And maybe we can make some home shots about them too." She pauses as her hand clutches onto the side of Jackie's ear as his disposition slumps down to a slow melancholic dump.

She has mentioned his parents in the upbeat hour. A solid sign that she has no idea about the recent nuclear fallout their marriage has become and like an innocent, underage bystander Jackie is forced to swallow every bit of their radioactive, negative blithe that they give off.

"I saw them dancing in the kitchen. I was running to get my camera but this precious idiot was not taking in any rolls at all."
"My parents never do that." Dolorous speaks up after a breathing pause halts her nonchalant emotion for a mere second before coming out.

"It's cute that Aunt Lis and Mitch still has that spark. It's . . . beautiful."

The heavy synthesis of an emotional flooding is present in this room. The upbeat hour has turned into a brothel where deep, unknown confessions are being exchanged.

I throw one simple look, deprived of any meaning to Clay's side to catch a glimpse of what he might be thinking. His shade of responsible, tanned cheeks show no sort of clinical discomfort other than occasional cocking of his eye before he crafts himself back to his humorous position.

"You know, my parents used to dance at weddings. but they don't anymore." His voice glowers to a lonesome tone, as if he's in prose to imitate everyone's sudden pensiveness.
"It's not the lack of love. It's mainly their creaky joints."

The flicker of their smiles feels like recorded laughter and similar to TV sitcoms, someone off camera is hitting the button of the tape records to shuffle out a laugh after every punchline someone says.

So far, I've lost track of how many laughs Clay has got. I have got none.

"Trust me, our family tree suffers greatly of calcium deficiency."

The laughter on this period fails to become ordinary since the woman in question, Lisa, Jackie's mother enters the room with a smile spreading on both of the borders of her cheek.

I embrace my inner causality to throw myself in the form of someone who's enjoying the tender air of this wonderful evening. The unexpected play of this night has yet taken another unforeseen turn as I wait eagerly to hear what she has to say.

"Dolorous, darlin' . Would you mind lending me a hand downstairs?"

My disposition shows a disappointed feature since I was hoping for something more enraging, absolutely stump worthy. The tensed moment would have lived up to its expectation if she was about to say that she's leaving her husband, Mitch, Jackie's father and moving to her boyfriend's place. This nameless man is the reason why Mrs. Lisa Hemphrey has the urgency to look young even though she has crossed the age of search for love.

"I'll head home too." Clay announces as climbs down the staircase with the rest of us.

The girl, Dolorous grants us some last minute chirping advice on future meeting before disappearing beside the kitchen counter.

I am not done with the night.