Gideon hadn’t gone to school that day. Sometimes he stayed home when he felt a particularly bad day coming on, and was exactly what he’d felt when he woke up that morning. He’d made lunch for Oriana, then went back upstairs to write some. And that had been the extent of his day. On the bright side, he’d gotten halfway through his creative writing assignment already, and was starting his next one. Not that Mr. Enders ever particularly cared for his work. Gideon had always suspected it was because he wasn’t a girl, but he didn’t say so much.
He was eyeing the clock carefully. It was almost time for Ori to get home. There was no ‘I’ll be late’ phone call, though he didn’t usually expect her to unless she planned to be extremely late, so as time went on, anxiety started to get the better of him.
Counting wasn’t even really easing his mind, though so far he’d discovered that there were seventy-five tiles on the kitchen floor. He carefully reminded himself that there was likely a completely rational explanation as to why she was late. Then he reminded himself once again that she wasn’t even that late. As a worrier, though, he felt like if he didn’t worry, he wasn’t doing his job right.
He heard the front door open from the kitchen, and when it closed he felt a wave of panic for some inexplicable reason. Heading toward the front hall, he looked at Ori, who looked as though she’d just outrun something particularly threatening. “Are y-you okay?” Nervousness, more than anything, made his stutter act up, and as his hand lingered on the doorframe, he found that he was tapping it, even though the only other one there was his sister. “You look p-panicked.”