On Your Mark

Chapter 4

My eyes flash open, the bright early sun stinging them instantly, punishing me for my late night. I roll out of bed, landing on the floor with a thud. I pull on a pair of shorts and a thin sweatshirt, leaving my hair wild and untamed as I shut my bedroom door and sit on the staircase railing. I slide down, flying past the second floor and jumping off at the end, landing gracefully.

"Good morning to you too," Sam says softly, with a sweet smile.

I nearly jump out of my skin, clutching my chest and giggling.

"Goddess!" I push my hair behind me with both hands, "I forgot you were here."

I sit cross legged at the table, reaching for a pancake and plopping it down on my plate, slathering it with butter. A stream of syrup pours from up above, thoroughly coating my breakfast. I look up into the dark empty eyes of our second Porter guest.

"Thank you." My voice is uneasy, but I smile, sipping on the coffee in front of me.

He sits down at my side, crossing his legs with an unlit cigar hanging between his lips. Both boys watch me fill my cheeks. I slowly lift my eyes, looking between them, as I chew in the awkward silence. I smile in my compromised position - cheeks puffed, fork in hand, and syrup lining my bottom lip.

"Oh good," my mother says, walking into the kitchenette, breaking the uncomfortable tension with an overflowing plate of bacon in her hands. "You're up!"

I swallow, meeting her gaze with relief. "Of course I'm up. I knew you'd probably have tons for me to do this morning."

She stops in her tracks, narrowing her eyes at me. I watch as she skillfully moves the ginormous tray into one hand and holds the other against my forehead, "are you ill?"

I swat her hand away from me, pushing my plate to the center of the table, "no."

"Why are you really up?"

"To help!"

"Allie Arla, is that you," my father exclaims, sitting down in his worn out chair, happily. He twists his wrist, checking the time on his watch and raising his eyebrows with surprise, "awake before eleven. What a treat!"

Gregory scoffs, removing the cigar from his lips to take a sip from his mug. I roll my eyes, "fine. I'll go back to bed then."

"Actually." Samuel's voice breaks through the screeching of my chair, "I was hoping someone could show me around, give me a tour? And since your brother isn't up yet,"

Isaac hops off the staircase before he can finish his sentence, shouting, "good morning family and guests!"

He kisses our mother on the cheek, taking a strip of bacon off of the tray in her hands, and throwing his leg over a chair across from me. I turn to Sam quickly, hoping to answer him before Isaac can say otherwise.

"I would love to." I smile, "I just need to get dressed."

My big brother scowls, scrunching his thick eyebrows together and looking between me and his self-proclaimed best friend. Samuel's eyes meet mine and he blushes. I feel my own cheeks warm and shift to a pinker hue.

"Get dressed for what, what's happening?"

"Nothing." Gregory shakes his head, scowling at his cousin.

"Actually," my mother says, "you'll all need to get dressed. The first games are set to start this afternoon and we have the assembly before then."

"Assembly," Sam asks, shaking his head and sipping his coffee.

"Rules will be established." My mother nods proudly, "what games will be played this year and reminders about what happens to cheaters and pranksters."

The last bit of her description is aimed at me and I drop my jaw, rolling my eyes.

"I stand by my original statement. I did not cheat," I explain, "it is not my fault all of those people got sick. I don't even know what a laxative looks like."

Sam chokes on his coffee, spitting it back into the mug. He sets the mug down, wiping his mouth with wide eyes. His cousin watches me, amused and impressed.

"So, it's just a gathering of all the participants." Sam nods, understanding the concept and ignoring my comment.

"More like-" Isaac searches through his brain for a more apt description. He smiles, having found one, "it's a waste of time to show off the trophy and its soon-to-be owner."

He gestures to himself obnoxiously. I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him. Danny walks by, poking my tongue with a devious grin. I spit, wiping my mouth furiously, as he laughs.

"What the hell was that?"

"A laxative," he says casually, shrugging his shoulders and sitting beside Isaac, across from me.

"What!?"

He laughs, earning a soft smack to the back of the head from my mother. My father scowls his green eyes and thick dark brows at me, pointing, "but I thought that was you."

"Did no one believe me when I said it wasn't me?"

A chorus of no's and shaking heads answer my exasperated question. Gregory stifles a laugh into his mug, which smells eerily of whisky and not coffee.

"So many people got sick," my father says quietly to himself, rubbing his beard and shaking his head, remembering.

Veronica slowly walks into the kitchenette, still in her silk pajamas, rubbing her stomach and looking a little green in the face, "please don't mention being sick. I'm still getting over Allie's prank from last year it seems."

I toss my napkin down on the table, holding my hands up in defeat.

"That's fiiiiine," I sing. "Just know, that when I kick all of your asses this year, that I am doing it honestly. Because I am not and never have been a cheater."

I push away from the table, storming out of the room and up the stairs. I stomp past Frederick on the stairs and he scowls briefly, smelling the frustration and determination on me.

"Everything alright, Al?"

I scoff, a wicked grin on my face, "you all are going down."