The Survivor (Book #2)

Chapter 15

"Wake up, baby!" I heard someone say as they shook my arm.

I sat up groggily and looked at Damon's grinning face. Why did even a smile look so threatening on him?

"You haven't called me that in decades," I mumbled as I sat up and tried to push my long hair out of my face. It fell back in front of my eyes and I tried to whip it back, immediately hurting my neck. I massaged it subtly and tried to pretend I hadn't.

"Well, I haven't seen you all cuddled up in your blankets and pillows before." He explained, giving me a little wink. He reached his arm out and rubbed my head with his hand, knocking my hair back over my eyes.

"Why'd you wake me up?" I whined, ignoring his explanation. "It's too early." The sun hadn't even fully risen yet and we didn't have school today.

"Time to start cooking!" he explained. "For Thanksgiving!"

"That's today?" I asked, bouncing up and onto my knees like a dog begging for a treat. He smirked and started walking to the door, pointing in the direction of my clothes.

"That's today," he confirmed. "Now get ready and be downstairs in five!"

"Damon!" I called out in panic as the door shut. "Do I dress fancy?"

It opened back up and he leaned his head in. "Dress comfy, the fancy part comes later."

I gave him a thumbs up which he returned, leaving the door slightly open behind him.

"Shut my door!" I yelled to him. I heard his footsteps as they continued to get lighter and heard back "Shut it yourself!"

Brothers.

- - - - - -- - - -

I didn't know what was appropriate to wear for cooking, so I threw on some light grey joggers I had and a red t-shirt. Red was sort of a Thanksgiving color, right? I threw my hair up into a bun that happened to look perfect. Why did messy buns always look perfect when you had no place to be? I washed my hands in my bathroom and checked myself in the mirror before running downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Hi!" I said into the chaos. There was a line of Caleb, Brooklyn, and Damon trying to wash their hands at the sink and Dominic was pulling pots and pans out of cabinets like he was trying to empty them completely. Charlotte rushed around pulling things out of plastic orange boxes and placing them in the house or on the walls. There were garlands of autumn-colored leaves, a table-runner, turkey and pilgrim displays, and so much more. I hadn't realized anyone was actually passionate about this holiday.

"Watch out!" Charlotte cried as she rushed past me with an armful of folded cloth napkins. Her hair was also in a bun, I noted. Except it was genuinely messy, with strands flying out of every end and bangs covering her eye and pushed behind one ear.

"Maya!" Dominic shouted and suddenly something came flying at me. I threw my arms up and screamed, only to have the oven mitt hit me on the head and fall to the ground pathetically. I looked up at his deadpan expression and we both couldn't help but laugh at my stupidity.

I picked it up and said, "How can I help?" He directed me to the tray that was already in the oven and our cooking adventure began.