"Do you have a pet?" I asked. I'm pretty sure you think I'm crazy for asking that, but I have a reason. I think, that is.

"Well, I have a dead fish." Lysander replied.

"Is that worth going to the pet hospital for?" I asked.

"He's dead. What do you want me to do? Bury him?"

"You know what, nevermind. Does your mom work at a hospital?"

"No." He said.

"Is she okay?"

"What is with all these questions? If my mom were okay, I'd stop acting like my fish died. Oh, wait. He's dead." He deadpanned. He's becoming weird. And scary.

"Imma go to your room. Don't mind me," he says, walking into the bathroom.

Awesome. A guest (well, I don't treat him as one) just randomly said he's staying the night and now he's making himself feel like home in my room. Joy.

"Wow, there's soap in your room? And toilet paper?" He asked, surprised.

Where the heck does he think I live?

"Yes, the homey room that belongs to me is the bathroom. Of course." I said sarcastically.

"This is the coolest room ever." He commented.

And I'm not even sure he actually knows where my room is in this house. I'd give him a map, but he wouldn't know how to read it.

"This is not my room, idiot. Do you live in the bathroom in your house?" I asked, annoyed.

"Oh! So this is the bathroom. Sorry, I just saw the toilet." He peered behind the sink.

I facepalmed. I feel bad for his mother, having to deal with him all day long. And being in the hospital, of course.

He walks out of the room and walks into my mom's closet. Does he not know what a room looks like? I'm just following him around. His IQ is probably lower than my brother's.

"Mis tis sah hihee toom," he said, tripping over my mom's heel. "Oww."

He deserved it.

He stood up. And fell again. "This is a tiny room."

"That's a closet, dingbat. Here, let me show you my room before you end up swallowing that heel. Those were a thousand dollars."

He quickly scooted away from the shoes like it had a disease. "Would you be a sweetheart and give me a hand?" He asked in a high-pitched voice.

He sounded creepier than a witch.

"I would very much like to keep both hands, thank you. You can grab onto the wall or something. My hand is not for sale."

He sighed. "Maybe I could crawl to your room?"

"Be my guest." And then I purposely started speed walking so he couldn't catch up.

"Why- are- you- so- fast?" He panted.

"Who knows, maybe you're just slow!" I called from my room.

Finally, he crawled into my room.

"Wow. This room is so messy."

Gee, thanks. I'm sure he excelled in his manners classes.

"My room is not messy! It's just an obstacle course designed to keep me fit. Everything's on display! Like a museum." There were only, like, three books on the floor. And my backpack. That's it!

"Yeeah. Right. Of course."

"I doubt your room is cleaner than mine." I crossed my arms.

"It is cleaner! It only has five notebooks, three folders, eight binders, and a hundred dollars worth of socks on the ground. It's not much!"

Definitely not much.

He laid on my bed.

"What the heck do you think you're doing?" I frowned.

"I'm laying on your bed. Duh." He rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"I know that, idiot. Why are you on my bed?"

"What else are you supposed to do in a bed? I'm sleeping, duh. Goodnight." He said.

"Well, if you say it like that, you can also nap in a bed..."

He groaned. "Ugh. I hate it when you're right."

"Yes, that's only, like, one-hundred percent of the time."

Only.

"Look, buddy, I've already prepared a place for you and you'd really hurt my parents' feelings if you didn't use it..." I said.

He gasped. "Really? I'm that special?" He fell off the bed.

"I'm okay!" He called from the floor.

Did I ask him if he was okay? Nah.

Him? Special? Special enough to sleep in the garage, that's what. The patio would be nice. Or, even better? The garden shed, with all those tools that can kill you and all that good stuff.

But since me and my parents (mostly just me) are very, very hospitable people we decided to offer him a place in the house that doesn't have anything to do with garden sheds.

"Yes, Lysander, you are special. The place we prepared for you is right there," I pointed to the floor.

He stayed silent for a minute before he asked, "You want me to sleep on the floor?"

"Yep," I replied, "it's the sad, sad reality of life, buddy."

"Are you sleeping on the ground with me?"

"Nah." I plopped onto my bed, "I have a bed, remember?"

Serves him right for being a 'guest' in the Robins' house.

Then he started coming up with excuses.

"Well, I don't think you'll let a guest sleep on a binder, would ya?" He said, smiling. He probably thought he won, but not so quick.

"I'll move the binder," I said kindly. Well, tried to. I probably sounded like a granny offering cookies. Raisin cookies.

"Well, my back isn't so good." He argued.

"Lucky for you, sleeping on the ground is good for the back," I informed him.

"Not good for my back. My back doesn't want me to sleep on the floor."

"Well, you're welcome to sleep in the garage! Or camp outside. Shh, I think my parents can hear us. I'm sure you don't want to hurt their feelings by not accepting the place they prepared for you." I asked innocently.

"You know what? Fine. Whatever. And how the heck do you prepare the ground for someone to sleep on?" He sighed.

Woohoo! Another victory for me.

"No, no no. It's the floor, the ground is outside, but if you want to sleep on the ground, I'm sure my parents could get a bed-" I grinned evilly.

He cut me off. "Yes, if it means I get a bed, I'll sleep outside."

"A bed of dirt, you brainless monkey."

"Oh. You know what, the floor sounds nice." He said, "But I'm truly curious on how you prepared the floor for me."

"Well, it wasn't hard, actually. We just mopped that spot a few hundred times." I replied.

He gasped. "Was there poison in the mop water? Am I going to die?"

My bedroom door slammed open. Look, people, even if it is a measly door, it's pretty precious to me. I don't want a random hole in my room.

It was my dad. How dare he slam my door?

"Ryan. Your mom has stage four cancer."
__________

I'm pretty sure my cliffhangers themselves could be a whole different story.

Thank you for reading! I hope you guys liked this chapter and if you did don't forget to comment, vote, and share!

Lemme know how you liked this chapter.

Dedicated to SevenDarkEnds.

Have a nice day.

Just a random thing - I'm either going to enter this book for the Wattys this year or next year.

Thank you.

Somerandomhuman88