His mom is a little on edge as we stroll back in. She turns to Flint and says something about hurrying because their dad will be home soon.

"I can help," I offer.

Ramona stands straight after setting the chicken into the oven. It's one of those premade chickens that need to be heated up a little. She turns and gives me a quick smile.

"That would be wonderful. I'm happy to see you decided to stay. Could you help with the mashed potatoes?"

I start to open my mouth to tell her I'd do it when Flint's voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Mom, she has a maid I'm sure she doesn't...."

I shoot him a dirty look. His mom stops to watch the interaction between her son and I. I don't want to be nasty in front of her, but that comment was uncalled for.

"What happened to stepping in the other person's shoes? You have no idea what I do at home. I'm perfectly capable of mashing potatoes." I grab the back of the chair I'm standing behind.

His face turns red. I don't care because he was the one to disrespect me. Just because I have a maid doesn't mean I'm incompetant.

"Flint Lee Rogers, apologize." Ramona scolds him like he's a child.

"Sorry," he mumbles, grabbing the last of the groceries to put away.

Ramona rolls her eyes at her son. She turns to me and begins showing me where everything is located. Next to the old electric stove is a cutting board and some potatoes. I quickly peel them. I'm well aware of how close Flint is now. She's got him on veggie duty. He's dumping fresh vegetables into the pot on the burner next to mine. We stand side by side in silence while working.

"Flint, has Parker been playing games more than usual? I got a call from his teacher that the homework he did the other night you helped him with never showed up."

His cheeks turn red.

"Yeah, I'm sure he did."

She sighs. "Honey, I really need you to help him and make sure that homework gets from his desk to that backpack. You know damn well your father won't do anything."

Her voice shakes a little when she mentions his father. I think back to what Flint said at the closet and how he seemed hesitant to want me to stay. Maybe that's what he meant by I don't understand, and why he wanted me out of here before his dad came home.

"I know mom," he says, just above a whisper.

I search the room for Connor, he's sitting at the table looking bored out of his mind.

"Hey Connor, I need help mixing these in a few minutes. Do you want to help?" I ask.

He stands up so fast from his chair it almost slips out from under him. He rushes to grab the stool, and pushes it over to the mixer.

The hairs on my neck stand again, but I ignore Flint. I don't even have to turn to know he's giving me one of his signature looks.

"Can I turn on the mixer?" Connor asks.

"Yeah, of course," I say.

He claps his hands in excitement like he's never done this before. I show Connor where the switch is. He flips it and giggles as the mixer swirls around.

"This is awesome!" He shouts.

***

A half an hour later everything is cooked and the table is finished. We all sit down and there's an uncomfortable silence around the table as they all wait. Utensils clank against the glass plates, and Connor hums, which seems to settle everyone down. Flint sits across from me, beside his mom, and Connor happily said that he wanted to sit beside me.

"So what type of project are you working on?" Ramona asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Flint remains quiet as he grabs a few mixed vegetables to add to his plate.

"It's to walk in the other person's shoes," I say.

I'm about to add more when the front door rattles and slams, shaking the whole house. Someone curses under their breath as they stomp into the room. A man, most likely his father, stumbles over to the table. He looks a little older than Ramona. Maybe it's because of all the alcohol I smell coming off of him. He's got Flint's blue eyes and pointed nose, but his hair is nearly gone and the scruff on his face has turned white and splotchy.

A stale alcohol smell radiates through the kitchen, I almost feel nauseated by it. The table goes deadly quiet. He grabs the empty plate at the head of the table and starts piling food onto his dish. No one moves not even to take a bite of their food. Even Flint sits quietly, his usual smirk is non-existent. The man grumbles something under his beer breath as he piles more food onto his plate. Before leaving he heads for the fridge and grabs a beer. A door down the hallway slams closed and everyone at the table finally let's out the long awaited breath they've been holding in.

"Flint, Marnie and I made cupcakes," Connor says, breaking the long uncomfortable silence.

"Oh is that so?"

Ramona's face turns pale as she drops her fork next to her plate like she's lost her appetite. She throws an apologetic glance my way and I give a small reassuring smile. Flint's still quiet, moving the food around on his plate. He hasn't looked up once.

"Yes ma'am. Can we have them for dessert?" He asks.

"You'll have to pack one for me to go," she says.

"You're working?" Flint says, while setting down his fork.

"Yes. I'm covering for Rosie at the diner tonight. I'm sorry." Her hand reaches out beside her to hold his, but he moves it away to grab his napkin.

Flint sighs and wipes his mouth, then throws it on the table.

"Marnie dear, you look so familiar, but I can't place where I've seen you before."

She ignores Flint's quiet tantrum and looks at me.

"Her dad's the Mayor." He answers for me. I'm starting to hate when he does that.

"Oh. Oh," she says. Her voice goes up an octave on the second oh.

"Wow, that must be a lot for you."

I shrug. "It's okay."

I give her a quick smile. For some reason I don't mind Ramona's comment. It seems that she's saying it out of concern for my well being. It's easy to see how much she cares for others. She's got a lot on her shoulders, but she carries it well - at least on the outside she does.

"I'm sorry to say, but I voted for the other guy," she says.

I laugh. "It's okay, a lot of people did."

Seeing Flint with his family makes me wonder what it would have been like if my mom had stayed. Would she be like Flint's mom, a hard worker? Or would she have been a stay- at home-mom and worked hard to put dinner on the table for us every night? Ramona is like a superhero in my eyes. She works hard for her family. His father on the other hand looks as if he spends all day at the bar. He seems to contribute nothing, leaving it all on his wife. Flint also cares a great deal about his brothers. Being here tonight has made me see how others struggle. I hate that they are, his family is great, I wish I could help them.

"Flint has never brought a girl home before," Ramona says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

Flint chokes. "Mom, I said she is here for a project."

"Oh right, but still you have never brought a girl to the house. It's nice to have another girl here. I'm surrounded by men." She laughs. I understand where she is coming from. I have Lucille, but mostly I'm surrounded by men.

"I sort of know how you feel. I live with my father and two dorky brothers."

"Oh Marnie, you and I should have a girls day," she says with a smile.

Now it's my turn to almost choke. Flint scowls in my direction. I bet he's waiting for me to be rude to his mother. I'd hate to lie to her and act as if I'll be back here again. So instead of saying anything I smile.

Throughout the rest of dinner she asks a lot of questions, not only to me but to her son's. Connor is thrilled to talk about his school day and his excitement about Flint picking him up. He tells us how Flint went down the spiral slide and almost got stuck, that makes us all laugh. After we finish we help clean up and Connor makes sure his mom gets a cupcake for work. As she goes to leave for the evening, she turns to me. "Marnie, it was a pleasure meeting you, I hope to see you again."

I didn't hate being here as much as I thought. I liked having someone who was there to ask me about my day, it's been a long time since dad sat down with us at dinner.

Flint and I have to discuss the project more in depth so I offer to stay. I wait in the living room while Flint puts Connor to bed.

Scanning the room I come across pictures lined up over a brick fireplace at the far end of the room. I hardly recognize his dad in most of them. With a smile on his face he reminds me of an older Flint. None of the pictures are new, Connor is just a baby and Flint looks to be eight or nine. There's another child who I assume is Parker, and an older boy who stands behind Flint in almost every picture. All four boys have the same blue eyes. One difference I spot right away is how the smiles on their faces fade as the years go on and the drastic change of their fathers appearance. He went from having light blonde hair, to losing it, and eventually a full on beard and tired red eyes.

"Sorry about that."

Flint's voice startles me and I jump. I lean against the brick and give a quick smile like I've been caught doing something bad. He plops down on the couch like a rag doll and closes his eyes. I settle down on the opposite end and pivot to face him. The couch is small enough that our legs touch.

"So this is my life..."

"Your mom is an amazing woman," I say.

He glances up at me. Curiosity fills his eyes.

"She works so hard just to keep you guys going. I admire that."

"Doesn't your mom work?" he asks.

"I...." I stop. I realize he knows just as much about me as I do him. Squat.

"Oh, did she die? God I am such an asshole." Flint runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the ends.

"No, it's not like that. She um... left my dad when I was four. Just flat out left us. I have no clue where she actually is. She's never tried to contact us."

"Shit, I am sorry."

I shrug and turn my attention back to the photos. One jumps out that I hadn't noticed earlier. It's the older boy from the family photo, only he's in an army uniform. "Who's that?" I point to it.

He swallows hard and I catch sight of his Adam's apple bobbing against his throat. "That's my older brother." He refuses to look at me or the picture, instead he stares out the large bay window.

"He's in the army, that's awesome. Do you plan on...?"

"He's dead."

My face heats up and I feel like a jackass. The poem from class comes into my mind, what was the thing that changed his life.

"Wow, now who's the asshole?" I ask.

That causes him to smile a little. An uncomfortable silence passes between us.

"Guess we learned something about each other."

"Yeah." He clears his throat.

"I should probably go though. I have some homework to finish."

"Should I come over tomorrow? I'm supposed to see how you live too" he asks.

I'm surprised by the slight urge to say yes. "I..." I pick at my nails trying to figure out why I suddenly want to spend time with him. "I have a date," I bite my lip.

He still has his attention on the window. I fight the temptation to take his face in my hands and turn him to face me.

"Cameron, right?"

I try to speak, but it's as if I've lost my voice. Flint moves over a bit so that our legs are no longer touching, and then stands like he's uncomfortable.

"Well let me know what day is good, okay?" He glares down at me and I take that as my cue to leave.

For a moment it's quiet again.

"Where is your car? I don't see it."

Yeah, I am definitely the asshole here. I stare down at the floor. "I parked at the library."

I can't look him in the eye. I get to my feet and go to gather my coat from the closet. There's nothing more I can say to make myself look better in this situation. It never mattered to me before what I said or thought about Flint Rogers, minus my slight childhood crush on him in elementary school. So why now?

"Didn't want anyone to see you slumming it?" He rests his arm against the entryway between the living room and hallway, stopping me in my tracks. There is not a single hint of the playful side of him anywhere on his face.

"No, Flint I..." I stop. Why should I explain myself? He'd been judging me when he made those comments about having a Nanny. We are both in the wrong, but neither of us would ever admit it outloud. "Forget it. I'll just see you at school. Thank you for dinner."

This time he doesn't stop me from leaving. I gather my stuff and head out the door. There's no reason to say goodbye, the door slamming shut behind me is enough. I turn at the edge of the walkway onto the main sidewalk when the door opens. Footsteps pound on the concrete and come to a slower pace beside me.

I glance over. He shrugs on his leather jacket and falls into step with me. "Let me at least walk you to your car."

"You don't have to do that. I'm the bitch that parked far away."

"Yes, you are," he says bluntly.

I open my mouth to say something, I'm cut off by his words. "I can't just let a girl walk around at night by herself. After all, you were really great to my brother. He doesn't get to have many people pay attention to him. So, thank you for that."

"I like Connor, he's a good kid."

At least I'm being honest about one thing. Baking with him was fun and I'd do it all over again if I had the chance. After mom left I remember helping with Derek all the time, we were only two years apart, but according to dad I was like mother hen. I care about him and Dom more than anything, even though I don't show it much anymore.

"My car is right over there, you can go back home."

We stop at the edge of the sidewalk across the street from the library. My car is the last one left, the library has been closed for almost an hour at this point.

"Just be careful, okay?"

I'm shocked that he actually kind of cares, but then I remember what kind of family he comes from. He's had to grow up faster than most kids. From what I've observed, Flint has a lot on his shoulders. One thing I did learn tonight is he's not the asshole I assumed he was.

"It's not like it's the city." I shrug so he can't see how his words have affected me.

"No, but this part of the neighborhood has its moments," he reminds me.

"Thanks for caring." The words come out snippier than I mean them to.

"See you tomorrow."

When I get to my car I glance over my shoulder and watch the outline of his body under the shadows of the street lamps. It takes me a minute or two to get myself together and to make my heart stop pounding in my chest before I'm able to drive home.