Running Home

Something Inadequate

I woke up the next morning to the incessant beeping of my alarm clock. I tried to reach over to hit it before realizing it was all the way across the room. Smart.

When the noise didn't stop after a minute, I got up and turned it off. I was just about to flop back down into bed, when my door swung open, startling me. I tripped over my own foot and fell backwards anyways, landing on my pillow.

"Up and at 'em, sunshine!" Ben called.

"Oh sweet sugar," I muttered, my head throbbing.

I was trying quite hard not to curse every time something mild happened.

"Yes I am. Now get up," he said. "We have things to do and places to be. Also, top left drawer. Training clothes."

"Good grief."

I stood, hopping on one foot for a moment, and then rummaged through the dresser to find the clothes he was referring to. It was some nice workout pants, that came down to just below my knee, and a good tee-shirt. And all in the uniform black.

I cleared my throat. When he didn't respond, I marched up to him. I proceeded to turn him around, shove him into the hallway, and close the door. He didn't seem to have a sense of privacy.

When I had changed, I opened the door again. However, there was one thing missing from my ensemble.

"Sneakers?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, under the bed," he replied.

Guess what color the tennis shoes were? If you guessed black, ten points to you!

Ben was wearing a similar outfit, and when we made our way to the main room, all of the other men were as well. We greeted the boys, but this time Nolan went to the back to get a towering stack of pancakes. I might've been kidnapped, but I was eating well.

Nolan and Ben seemed to be the only people our age with any authority. I decided not to question it, as it would probably not end well, but it still left me wondering.

Jamie was late today, and when he finally showed up, it was easy to tell why. He had dyed over the blue streak with a reddish-pink color, making the area have a purple tint.

"You guys like it?" he asked.

"Sure," Leo said, not looking up.

"It's nice. I thought you said you were going to do green," Wes said.

"I thought about it, but then I realized it didn't match my skin tone," Jamie replied a bit too dramatically. It was probably more of sarcasm.

"I think it's cool. I've always wanted a streak in my hair, but my parents' rule was that I had to be willing to cut off whatever was dyed within two weeks," I interjected.

"That sucks. Next time I switch the color, you're coming with me," he commanded.

The conversation soon died down because we all had our mouths stuffed full with pancakes. They tasted like syrupy heaven. Leo had drowned his pancakes, and Patrick was meticulously placing strawberries on his.

The meal ended when Wes reached across the table to grab the syrup and knocked the tray of pancakes onto the ground. Everyone collectively groaned.

"And Wes the menace strikes again," Jamie yelled, clearly distressed.

"Come on. I was enjoying those!" Nolan complained.

"Guys, it was a mistake. Calm down," Patrick replied, defending Wes.

"Sorry," Wes said. "I'm a klutz."

"No one blames you, right?" Patrick said while glaring at the other boys, almost challenging them.