At the dinner table everyone was yelling at each other. Some people were yelling ‘pass the peas please!’ Others were yelling ‘No that’s not how it goes!’ And someone else, I think Morris, was yelling ‘Peanut butter, jelly time.’
My little family is just that weird. I made my way through half of a bowl of stir fry before I realized Xaeren wasn’t eating.
“Why aren’t you eating? Are you feeling ill?” my mom asked kindly.
“No it’s not that. I just feel as if I am imposing on you, and I don’t want to be a burden.” He said quietly.
“Oh, honey, it’s not imposing if I invited you. I love taking care of Alex’s friends.” My mom said kindly.
“Still, I’m expected somewhere else.” He got up abruptly and walked out the door. When he opened the door, a night breeze flowed smoothly into the room. A full moon stood brightly in the night sky.
I watched as Xaeren loped off. I looked back at my friends and family, they looked so carefree, laughing and talking.
When I looked back, a tawny colored dog jogged away, heading down the beach. I wonder where Xaeren had gone. The dog looked different than a normal dog. And from what I knew about wolves and coyotes, it wasn’t either. It had longer fangs and a shorter snout than any dog species. The eyes of the beast were the blue-gray color of a brewing thundercloud.
If Xaeren were a dog, that would have been him. The dog seemed familiar too.
I was awoken, several hours later, by the sound of a toilet being flushed and someone walking into the wall. A curse rang out as someone stumbled around.
I was sleeping in the bathtub. I know it sounds uncomfortable and unusual, but my bathtub was slightly larger than normal. And if you use a bunch of blankets as padding, you’ll be just peachy.
My bed was taken by Lili and Elizabeth, my floor was housing Taylor. We rotated turns in the bathtub, and it was my turn. I’m just glad that no one turned the shower head on again.
Taylor peered at me from behind a tangle of hair.
“Sorry if I woke you up.” She slurred as she staggered back to the floor. I knew she was still upset about her parents.
“It’s all right, honey. I needed to wake up to make breakfast. You go back to sleep, and I’ll wake you up when breakfast is ready.” I said. She looked happier as I sent her back to bed. Everyone needs to be taken care of every once in a while. Plus, I make killer omelets.
I hopped up, grabbed my blankets, shut the window, adjusted the temperature in the room, and headed downstairs to make the perfect breakfast.
I opened the windows so a nice breeze stirred the curtains. The T.V. was on, but muted, so I put on some Saturday morning cartoons.
I grabbed the skillet-after looking for it for about thirty minutes-and set it on the stove. Three eggs were out, adjusting to the room temperature as I gathered the rest of the ingredients. I lined up the spices and ingredients in chronological order, so I could grab them as I cooked. A visibly used cutting board awaited me, paired with a sharp knife to dice the peppers.
I added all of the sliced, diced, and minced ingredients to a bowl and started mixing. Just a smidgen of dried parsley, and it was ready to be cooked.
When everyone came downstairs, I slid the omelets off of the burners, and the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. The heavenly cinnamon aroma pervaded the room.
“There’s a bowl of fresh vegetables in the fridge in case you want to put them on your omelets.” I sang merrily, undoing the apron from around my neck. It felt nice to do something for them…I hope they appreciate the kind soul that looks after them.
“Did you poison the food? Is that why you’re so happy?” Lili asked me wearily. Honestly! It accidently happens once, and they won’t let me forget it! Elizabeth paused in the middle of her chewing slowly, her eyes widening. She opened her mouth and spat the cinnamon remains into a napkin.
“No! The eggs were bad that time! You know that! I would never intentionally poison you.” I assured Elizabeth. She looked relieved and started wolfing down a cinnamon roll. Everyone shrugged and followed suit, commencing with our favorite past time-eating. As everyone found a little slice of joy in something I had provided, I felt a warm, fuzzy feeling. I love feeling needed.
Jacob and I ended up fighting over the last cinnamon roll. I am not ashamed to admit that I got violent. When he wouldn’t give it up easily, I grabbed some ketchup and upended it over his head. The red condiment soaked into his hair, dripping down his forehead. I smile satisfactorily. He should have known that you never take food from a hungry PMS-ing girl. It’s just dangerous. When he had let go of the roll, I grabbed it and stuffed it into my mouth, smiling around the food. I had my back to him, smug over my small victory.
A cool gooeyness spread throughout my hair, drenching my scalp. Jacob had cracked an egg over my head. I turned around, trying to protest through my mouth full of food. A slow, mean grin spread over his face.
“And to think, you actually pay to get your hair soaked in that stuff!” He hooted, grabbing his stomach and bending over.
I grabbed the open flour jar with a vengeful shriek. You know what they say, as soon as half-eaten cinnamon rolls fly, things just got real. I jumped up and spun around, the jar open, causing it to spread out through the room. The powder settled on the room, making everything look as if it were crusted with-well, flour. The nearest thing in my sight was a pan, so I grabbed it and started fanning the air, trying to make the powder dissipate. I heard a thud!, followed by a groan of pain. A curse rang out as whoever I hit stumbled backwards and hit someone else, who in turn hit another person. A chorus of outraged cries broke out as everyone stampeded towards the door at once, hoping to get out of this mad house…if only they knew the madness was within.
“Wait! No one move!” I yelled. I made my way past the carnage and over to the fans, turning them all on.
As the flour settled, the situation came into focus. My mom was in one of the corners, looking around jumpily, as if she expected someone to jump at her and hit her over the head with a pan. Lili and Elizabeth were both under the table, squinting at us. Taylor was on the counter, an egg in her hand, still raised and ready to fire. Jacob was on the floor, holding a broken watermelon. I didn’t even know we had watermelon. Apparently he was the one I had hit, because he was bleeding slightly. I don’t know why I’m hurting people so much today.
Xaeren was standing in the doorway, his fist raised as if he were about to knock. As soon as I saw him, instead of hitting anyone else with a frying pan-“accidently”…wink, wink-I set about cleaning our little food fight. It was a long process. Xaeren just stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb looking gorgeous.
