Chapter 3 (not a re-do because i hadn't written a third chapter before!)

“You must be Seth,” a tall gray man said when he opened the door.
Seth nodded.
“Mr. and Mrs. Langley have been expecting you,” the man said.
Jeff held out his hand. “I’m Jeff Greene,” he said.
The man looked at his hand blankly.
“Wade? Is that him?” a lady’s voice called from another room.
Seth looked past the man called Wade. A lady in a nice blouse and jeans hurried out of, as he assumed, the kitchen. “Blake!” she yelled over her shoulder, “Ah, Jenn, go tell you’re father he’s here.”
A brown-haired girl wearing jeans and a concert shirt walked out of a room in socks with an iPod earphone stuck in one ear. She looked about his age. Jenn appeared to hear her mom and rushed into the third room that he could see. “Daaad?!” The noise echoed through their house.
The lady, Sasha, he presumed, came and grabbed the door from Wade.
“Hey! Good to see you!” she said, “I’m Sasha. I don’t know if you remember.”
Seth nodded, but Jeff elbowed him. “Yeah!” he yelped. “I mean, I remember.”
Sasha smiled.
Blake soon appeared, with Jenn, the daughter, following him. “Well, come in!” Sasha grinned. “Welcome!”
Seth picked his bag and guitar up with his left hand and stepped inside.
It was big, but nice. It had a lot of rooms. A computer room, a dining room, and down a hallway was a living room, kitchen, bathroom, and laundry room. There were stairs leading up from the living room into a upstairs hallway and balcony. The walls were painted a deep, soothing crimson.
It felt like a home should.
“Hey!” Blake said, beaming, “You made it!” He patted him on the back.
Seth cracked a smile.
He turned around when he felt something yank on the suitcase. His grip tightened. “Relax,” Jenn said. “C’mon, I’ll show you your room,” she gestured her head towards the stairs. He noticed her earphone had been taken out and tucked safely into her pocket. He wondered what she listened to.

She started walking and he followed her up the stairs, shooting a glace at Jeff, who smiled at him reassuringly. Go on.
“Your room’s here on the left,” she said, leading him down a hallway. “And my room’s next door to yours,” she looked to the right.
Jenn opened his door into a room with the walls painted blue. There was a bed with a blue and black striped comforter on it. A stained wood desk, a dresser, a chair, a stocked bookshelf. Band posters covered the walls.

This was nothing like his room back home, where Mom could barely pay the house bills. He had been eight, Vi had been six. They had slept on a uncovered mattress under the big patchwork quilt that Mom said their grandmother made for Seth when he was a baby. The walls had been white. There was no other furniture other than that one tiny mattress. A light bulb hung uncovered from the ceiling.

Jenn put his bag on the floor. She kept the guitar case in her hand. “You play?”
Seth reached down and put the bag on the bed.
“Do you talk much?” Jenn asked. She pulled the chair out from the desk and turned it around to face him, sitting in it.
Seth sat on the bed, cross-legged with his elbows on his knees and his hands on his face. “I’m tired, okay?”
“Oh,” Jenn said.
Seth looked up at the ceiling. His eyes were wet. Jenn sat dumbly, looking at him, trying to sympathize with something he wouldn’t tell her.
“My sister died,” he said quietly.
Jenn was shocked. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Seth looked down. “You wouldn’t know.”
Seth inspected the room from where he sat. There was a window with dark shades on it. Band posters advertised Three Days Grace, Skillet, Thousand Foot Krutch, 3 Doors Down. “What’s your favorite?” he asked.
“What?” Jenn said.
He studied his shoes with great interest. “Your favorite band.”
Jenn thought. “Mm…I’d have to say Thousand Foot Krutch. Have you heard of them?”
“No.” Seth nudged the guitar with his foot. “I’ve played a Skillet song before.”
Jenn smiled. “Which ones?” she asked. “Could you show me?”
He shook his head and looked down.
“Okay,” Jenn said.
They were silent for awhile.
Jenn shifted in her seat. “Er…how old are you?”
Seth’s attention shifted from the floor back up to her. “Fourteen.”
“No way, so am I.”
“Ki-i-ids!”
They both looked at the door at the same time. “Yeah?!” Jenn shouted.
“Jeff’s leaving!”
Jenn looked at Seth.
He nodded.

At dinner, Sasha and Blake asked Seth a lot of questions. He didn’t like it when they asked questions about his family. He’d try and change the subject. “Please pass the rolls.”
“I like your shirt,” Sasha said.
Seth looked down, not remembering what he’d thrown on earlier that morning. A gray and black striped sweater. Right. “Thanks?” he said.
He shoveled some peas onto his fork and rolled them back and forth, just looking at them blankly. He wasn’t really hungry. He put it down and looked around the dining room for the third time.
The walls were a pear green. There were old paintings of flowers and stuff hanging up on the walls. There was an antique dresser with plates on display in the cabinet part of it. Seth never understood why people would put plates on display. Like, ‘oh, wow, a plate.’ Never seen one of those before.
Jenn sat across from him, chewing thoughtfully on her roasted chicken as she stared. She swallowed an took a bite of mashed potato. “How’d you get into foster care?” she blurted finally.
Seth looked at her with an eyebrow raised.
“Jenn!” Blake exclaimed, nearly choking on a pea.
“What?! It’s an honest question!” she argued.
Sasha busily cut her meat to the right of Seth.
He shrugged. “No, it’s fine,” he said. “My mom’s in prison. Drown a kid. We thought she was crazy, Vi and I did.” He took a bite of chicken.
The table fell silent.
“Good food, by the way,” he said.