UNDENIABLY DESTINED

CHAPTER 10

I winced so hard it was like I'd just seen a unicorn trying to tap dance as I locked eyes with this person who wasn't eating breakfast; he was having a full-on wrestling match with it. Food bits clung to his face like they'd mistaken him for Velcro. "Ashdjfu...," he tried to talk, but his mouth had gone on vacation.

Then, like a culinary superhero, Uncle swooped in with a smacking sound that would've made a pro wrestler proud. He gave both Saddie and Chris a tongue-lashing while also giving Chris some hearty back pats to save him from his breakfast-induced coughing spree. "Eat first!!!" he boomed, and Aunt just sighed like she'd seen it all.

So, it was the first day of our senior year at school, and somehow, I found myself stuck with these two food-speed demons. Chris was the reigning champ of the "I woke up late" Olympics, but Saddie, bless her heart, woke up early to join me in our secret underground gym, only to turn into the world's slowest eater. Sometimes, I thought we were witnessing a tragic waste of food.

I glanced around and realized I wasn't alone in my thoughts. Alpha, Uncle, Ryan, James, and Zack all had the same "Are we seriously doing this?" expressions. And then, like a cherry on top of this absurdity sundae, we all heard a dry heaving sound and watched Beta female Siren bolt for the bathroom. Saddie and Chris looked up, concerned, as if they had no clue their breakfast shenanigans were causing a breakfast crisis of epic proportions.

As we all exchanged amused glances, it was clear we were thinking the same thing: breakfast should never be this entertaining.

Luna bolted off like a caffeinated squirrel, ready to be Siren's breakfast-time savior. Meanwhile, Chris, looking like he just discovered that cows produce chocolate milk, asked, "Is she okay?" He then turned to us for confirmation, like a bewildered sheep seeking guidance from the more seasoned farm animals. In that surreal moment, words felt as out of place as a penguin at a beach party.

I checked my watch, rose from my chair, and theatrically announced, "Aunt, I'm about to embark on a heroic journey." Aunt, who had an uncanny ability to manifest food in times of crisis, rushed in with a heroic supply drop. "Hold on, you can't leave without your lunch!" she declared, casually placing it in my bag. She also bestowed upon me two massive containers that defied the laws of lunchbox physics.

James couldn't contain his laughter at the sight of these culinary monoliths. He turned to me, wearing an expression of genuine amusement, and quipped, "Lunch? The cafeteria is right there, serving food that's only mildly terrifying." His gaze ping-ponged between me and Aunt, who looked like she could win a cooking competition blindfolded. My uncle chimed in, "Our dear Aadaya here has allergies that rival a phonebook. But these two," he gestured toward Saddie and Chris, who were now locked in a battle of epic proportions at the sink, "seem to think she's their personal chef."

I made my grand exit from the house, with Zack and Ryan trailing behind me like backup dancers in a surreal comedy show. We exchanged farewells with all the finesse of actors in a poorly rehearsed play. As we congregated outside, Chris and I joined Saddie, who was gracefully maneuvering her Thar out of the garage like a chariot fit for a queen.

Ryan, seemingly joining our sitcom at this point, exclaimed, "Whoa, nice wheels! Must be raking in those big bucks, huh?" This was coming from a guy we'd only just met half an hour ago, but he seemed to be a decent fellow, polite and not quite a member of our inner circle.

Chris and I exchanged puzzled glances, torn between revealing our self-funded car ownership or blaming it on Saddie's family fortune. In a brilliant display of comedic timing, we chose the latter and delivered in perfect harmony, "Well, you see, not all of us have billionaire dads like Saddie." Saddie's face contorted into a delightful mixture of irritation and mischief, and we knew we were in for a day of banter and laughter.