"dinner! get it while it's hot!" my dad's voice boomed through the halls and into my room. as soon as i left the safety of my hibernation cave, i heard heels clicking against the wooden floorboards.
the devil that wears prada is home.
the sinister clicking came to a halt at what i expected was at the kitchen counter. i took my time to come into the light of the dining room. i squinted, the lights being as bright as the holy spirit.
"oh hey batman, how's the bat-cave ?" dad chortled from the kitchen stove. our house's kitchen and dining room were connected, to make it more spacious. the renovations didn't take that long either with me, dad and two other guys.
"pretty good, no joker yet." i jested back. i begrudgingly sat beside victoria, iphone 11 in both of her palms, the thick acrylics tapping against the screen in haste, obviously text messaging like always.
"eat up then, super vigilante, you've got a city to look after." my dad continued, a chuckling rattling from his chest to his throat and through his teeth as he handed me a bowl of spaghetti, a handful or more of shredded cheese to engulf the sauce.
just how i like it.
"thanks dad." i grab my fork that awaited me.
"ew. that much cheese is so bad for your diet." victoria looked at my bowl in disgust, hers was given to her plain. just the spaghetti mince, sauce and noodles.
"vicky, you forget anastasia is a working girl." dad butted. he and grace finally sat down. dad sat at the head of the table like he always does, then me and victoria sat on the left of him, grace sat on the right.
"whatever, gross food for such a boyish girl." victoria muttered under her breath, nails clicking against the metal fork as she twirled it around her food. her phone lingered in her spare hand.
"shut up couch potato." i grunted. i was quick enough to shove the food in my mouth, victoria threw imaginary daggers at me with her eyes. i could tell and feel it.
luckily, the two adults didn't hear.
"so girls," grace interrupted our seething moment; victoria and i.
i looked towards my step mother, quirking an eyebrow as i slurped the spaghetti noodles into my mouth before they could make an escape. grace gave me a look of disgust.
"what ? in japan slurping is a compliment." i shrugged and i heard the muffled scoff.
her own painted nails danced with her fork around her bowl, picking. she saw me looking and looked away from my eyes, dropping her fork and rolling her wrist under her jaw, her painted red lips opened to speak again.
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