Battlefield by J. F. Jenkins

classic signs to leave him alone.
    She did have one comment for him. “I honestly can’t get over the style of your house. It’s not like any architecture I’ve ever seen before.”
    It had a few classic touches to it, but there was something unique about the angles that were different than most other mansions he’d been in. He’d noticed it as well, but he also didn’t know anything about modern buildings.
    â€œI’m sure you hear that a lot. I don’t want to annoy you. I just can’t help it,” she said, no doubt noticing his frown.
    â€œYeah, no problem.” He led her further up the stairs, pulling his hands out to use the handrail. Lyssa was staring down at them from the top. “What? We’re going to my room to make out.” He knew she didn’t buy that, but she also wasn’t supposed to. He rolled his eyes. “I’m giving her a tour. Why are you staring at me like I have three heads all of a sudden?”
    Lyssa looked first at her younger brother and then at his new friend; his new friend who was a girl, a cute one at that, and a smile started to form on her lips. No doubt she was getting the wrong idea. Maybe she would take his making out comment more seriously than he thought.
    â€œSorry, I didn’t realize...Are you going to be here for dinner, too?” she asked.
    â€œDoubt it. Probably another hour or two. But don’t worry, she’ll be back, and we can play twenty questions later,” Orlando said, and then he proceeded to move past his sister. “This is the master bedroom,” he said loudly as he pulled Cadence into an enormous room before shutting the doors behind them.
    It hadn’t been used in a long time. There wasn’t a lot of dust, but the calendar on the desk near the far window still had August of three years ago displayed. Orlando was pretty sure that was the last time his parents had stayed longer than a day at the house. The books by the bed were slightly yellowed. The television was more outdated than it should have been, given the rest of the technology they owned. It was clean, but empty and hollow-feeling. He didn’t like being there much.
    â€œStairs to the attic are this way,” he said quietly. He walked her through the walk-in closet, opened another door, and the two climbed more stairs.
    â€œYou know where a lot of things are,” she said.
    â€œI told you before. I get bored, so I explore.”
    The attic was huge and cluttered. There was hardly room for them to walk as they danced around box after box of things in an effort to get to the racks of clothing tucked away in the back. Cadence immediately began to look through everything. There was a great variety of styles and something for every occasion packed away. He didn’t get why they kept so much stuff, especially since they weren’t around to enjoy whatever nostalgia the objects had. He watched as she paused to admire a black, flowing gown covered with sequins.
    â€œI’m not sure if I’m feeling anything,” Cadence admitted with a sigh as she moved from the rack to a box of hats and other accessories. She picked one hat up and put it on top of her head. “Ta-da! There we go. A disguise.”
    â€œYou know, if you got a pair of ugly bug sunglasses from the nineteen-eighties, you’d look like a celebrity,” Orlando said as he searched through a box of his father’s old clothes.
    â€œThank you.” Why was she smiling so much at him?
    â€œEr, right,” he said with a raised eyebrow.
    With a giggle, Cadence picked up a black fedora and placed it on top of his head. “You should wear this. It suits you with your emo hair.”
    â€œIt’s not emo.”
    â€œYes it is.”
    â€œIs not,” he protested and gave her shoulder a light nudge. He’d have to explain to her the difference between emo and goth another time. Right now, he didn’t have the