My book swung in my hand as I started my walk back home. It had begun to get dark pretty quickly, so I, begrudgingly, marked my place and started the walk back home. I couldn't stop thinking about the boy with the football.

I had watched them play for a bit, mostly I just watched Lucas. He weaved effortlessly through his other friends as they played. He caught me watching him a couple of times and I quickly tried to disguise it by holding my book in front of my face. I don't think it worked.

He scored two or three touchdowns throughout the game, much to the disappointment of his friends. I watched him as he happy danced. He placed his arms above his head, pumping his elbows as he shuffled his feet across the ground. It was a weird movement, clearly dancing was not his strong suit.

I was laughing from the memory as I walked through the front door.

"What are you laughing and smiling about?" Sammy signed, walking past to go into the living room. A smile played on his lips as he signed.

He was no longer sporting the sunglasses look. He was dressed, quite smartly at that. As he walked into the living room to pick up his jacket, I realised he had shoes on.

"Nothing. Where are you going?" I signed, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Nowhere important. Just to meet up with a friend." He signed, putting on his jacket and picking up his keys. He shouted something in the motion of the kitchen but I couldn't make out what it was, before giving my shoulder a squeeze and walking out the front door.

I watched him through the window as he unlocked his car, started it up and drove off.

He took the car. He never takes the car to meet with a friend. Who was he meeting? And why didn't I know?

With that my nun walked around the corner and waved to get my attention. Turning to look at her, I could see the remnants of tonight's dinner splashed on her clothes. Specks of tomato sauce clung to her top as she frantically dabbed with a kitchen towel.

"Riley, I could use your help in the kitchen? Please? The sauce exploded and I think your father's burnt the pasta!" She signed quickly as she walked past to go get changed.

I chuckled to myself as I walked into the kitchen. The kitchen looked like a bombshell had hit. The smell of burnt food flooded my nose as I made my way through the chaos. My father was crouched over, scrubbing at the puddle of red that had amounted on the floor.

I quickly grabbed the pasta pan before it bubbled over and moved it over to the sink. Bits of black charcoal floated in the water, and the pasta had completely stuck to the pan.

I love my parents dearly, but neither of them were very good at cooking.

Dad got himself up off the floor, and threw out the red stained towel before making his way over to me.

"Thanks, Riley. Me and your mother were just trying to do something nice for you both. Turns out even pasta is harder than it looks." He signed chuckling to himself as he poked at the starch mess in the saucepan.

Both of us looked down at the pasta and instantly burst into fits of laughter.

I reached up and squeezed his arm before crossing over to the other side of the kitchen, opening the drawer and pulling out a take-out menu.

"I think that's a good call." Dad signed as he reached for the phone and took the menu from my hands.

Mum had changed and re-entered the kitchen as dad hung up the phone. She was drying the bottom of her hair with a towel, clearly trying to get the rest of the tomato out.

"Chinese or Indian?" Mum signed as she looked over at Dad on the phone. "Anything but Italian." She signed before poking at the lump of pasta in the pan. We instantly burst into laughter, Mum shaking her head at the chaos that had erupted in the kitchen.

It was calm that evening. The take out had arrived and we had spent the evening catching up on all that had happened since moving in to this funny little town.

I told my parents all about the memorial tree I had found and how it had quickly become my favourite place to sit and escape.

"Why don't you find out more about the bench? Maybe there's a story behind it?" My dad had signed as he crunched on fried rice.

Dad likes to think of himself as the modern Sherlock Holmes. He loved mysteries and trying to solve something that seemed impossible. He wouldn't stop until every clue was found and the truth has been outed.

He used to watch all those crime television shows and read murder mystery stories. In our old house his study was lined with endless books detailing the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson.

I think that's where I got my love for reading from.

"You're right, I might look into it." I signed as I shovelled another forkful of egg roll into my mouth.

"Do you know where your brother has gone? It's getting pretty late?" My mum signed, worry evident on her face.

"He's a big boy, Mum. I'm sure he'll be fine." I signed, but I could f stop the worry from etching onto my face.

Hours had past and Sammy still wasn't home. Mum and Dad had gone to bed, and I sat downstairs waiting for him to come home. The room was in total darkness, the only light coming from the TV that was playing an old re-run of some adventure film that I had no clue of what was happening. I had spent the first twenty minutes of the film staring out the front window, as if wishing for Sammy's car to pull up and park in the driveway. I wasn't paying attention to the subtitles, my thoughts ran wild.

Where was he? Was he okay? He never goes out this late. Did something happen?

My mind ran off and off with thoughts until finally headlights shone through the front window. I quickly ran over to the window, and sure enough Sammy jumped out the car before locking the door, a smile plastered over his face. Quickly I raced back to the couch, trying to hide the fact that I had been snooping on him

He walked in through the door and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me sitting on the couch. My face was fixed on the TV, I tried my hardest to not look at him through my peripheral vision.

He hung his jacket up, kicked his shoes off in the hall and walked into the room. He crossed in front of me to plunk himself down next to me on the couch, picking up a handful of the untouched popcorn on the coffee table.

He tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to look at him.

"You're up late." He signed, placing kernels of popcorn in his mouth.

"I was waiting for you." I signed with a smile. He smiled back at me.

"Have Mum and Dad gone to bed?" He signed, looking through the kitchen doorway to try and spot our parents. I nodded.

"They left about an hour ago." I signed and pointed upstairs. "How was your night?" I was curious to find out as much as I could about his mysterious friend.

"It was nice." He said before pulling the blanket, that was wrapped around my legs, over him. "Why are you watching Indiana Jones?" He said giving me a sceptical look. "You hate adventure movies."

"I don't hate them. I just strongly dislike them." I signed. He chuckled next to me before placing his head on my shoulder. Realising that that was the end of the conversation, I gave up and gave in to watching the rest of Indiana Jones.

We watched the rest of the movie sat in the same position. I wasn't sure what time we fell asleep, but when I woke up I was laying in my bed, still in my clothes from last night. Sammy must have carried me up the stairs to my bed.

The light shone brightly through my window as I struggled to keep my eyes open. My room looked liked a nuclear bomb made of clothes and dirt had exploded and covered everything in sight. I needed to clean up, if only I could get myself out of bed.

I quickly showered, got myself dressed and began to clean my room. Clothes went back into my dresser, books placed neatly in my bookcase.

Lying discarded under one of my sweatshirts was a Polaroid picture. Looking at it, I smiled at the memory.

It was a picture of back home. A picture of mine and Sammy's sixteenth birthday. We both stood in the middle, surrounded by our old friends. Two guys stood to the left of Sammy in the picture. Thomas and Nick, they had been best friends ever since we were little. They had grown up together through little league football and had become like the three musketeers, very quickly. They had their arms wrapped around Sammy, smiling from ear to ear. On my right was Elena. The new girl that quickly turned into my one and only friend back home. She was smiling as she looked at me. Next to her stood Jamie.

The nostalgia quickly drained out of my body at the sight of him. He had ruined my life.

My phone vibrated in my hoodie pocket. I pulled it out and was greeted by a message from Lucas.

He had asked me how I was, and how my night had been. I was surprised at how quickly he had messaged me. I replied and told him about the Italian explosion in my kitchen the night before. I quickly finished cleaning my room before heading down for breakfast.

When I reached the kitchen, I was hit with a smell of eggs and bacon. Sammy was cooking.

Sammy heard me walking in and gave me a smile over his shoulder. I waved, hoping he would see it. He placed the spatula back on the pan, checked the bacon on the stove and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands before turning to look at me.

"You're cooking? Why are you so happy?" I signed laughing and taking a seat at the kitchen island.

"Just in a good mood, I suppose." Sammy signed, before placing toast in the toaster. "Want some?" he asked. I nodded, loving the smell that had now flooded my nose.

"Always." I signed as he cracked another egg into the pan.

"Fine. But you're on washing the dishes duty." He signed poking at the egg with the spatula.

With our parent's cooking the way it was, Sammy had learnt to cook from a young age. I had tried, but I obviously never heard the over timer go off. Many a day was spent with me trying to get smoke out of the kitchen where I had burnt the food. I gave up shortly after that.

Sammy placed the plate of delicious looking food on the counter in front of me, and I wasted no time digging in. Sammy stood over me, waiting to see my reaction.

"How is it?" He asked staring at me, trying to hold back a laugh at the sight of me huddled over my plate.

"Delicious as always. Can't sign, I'm busy eating." I signed before placing more bacon into my mouth. He shook his head and laughed watching me as he dug into his own breakfast.

"Where's Mum and Dad?" I signed as I washed the dishes in a bowl of soapy water.

"Gone out. Dad had some work thing, and Mum went along as well. It's just you and me today, and I was thinking you could show me that tree of yours?" He signed before placing his empty plate in the bowl. I smiled and nodded. It sounded like a good day.