𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 ( 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙡 )

𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚

CHAPTER FIVE

foresight

"tell me, maeve. what was the siege of leningrad?" i asked in a voice mimicking mr fennel's. we had an ap world quiz the following day. i felt good about it. i only had to review the things i haven't learned every year since fifth grade.

"when the axis powers blockaded the soviet city, killing hundreds of thousands of people," answered jordyn with confidence.

"wow, maeve. you sound different today," i joked. the three of us were sitting on my bedroom's carpet, waiting for my dad, who was cooking dinner at a painfully slow pace.

jordyn punched his throat with one fist as he cleared it. "sorry, is this better," he asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

maeve and i chuckled. "that sounds exactly like me," she said. "or maybe me after i've smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day for twenty years."

"dinner's almost ready!" called my dad's muffled voice from downstairs.

once we were at the table, me in between maeve and jordyn ( sometimes we need to separate them because it gets too hectic ), i took my utensils and banged them vertically against my table mat like i was a hungry prisoner with a tattoo sleeve. could you blame me though? it was gourmet eggplant parmesan. and it was from dad, who just so happened to be the best cook in town, at least according to my family. he brought it out a few minutes later with a swift swoosh of his arm. the aromas filled my nose. heaven.

"so, how's the filming going, girls?" asked mom, who sat across from me.

"it's going...," i said vapidly. every time someone brought up filming i felt a pang of guilt in my stomach for having not done it yet.

"...to be awesome," maeve added. she gave mom a thumbs up.

jordyn was almost done eating when finally, dad sat down and joined us after removing his stained apron. "it's probably better that you keep focusing on grades anyway, no?"

maeve and i exchanged glances. this was the tough topic that we discussed right after we finished writing the short film. the discussion was inconclusive. she wants to go more into the writing aspect of filmmaking; while i want to do it all: write, direct, edit, the whole shebang. obviously, i can't get into a good film school if i don't have good grades, but wouldn't i also need to have something real to show off?

"i guess it is," i frowned. "but i just wish i had more of a balance, ya know?"

"grades are more important," he stated. "if you put them first, you'll find that it has benefits for your future, too." i hated when dad got like this, all sure of himself. it reminded me too much of... well, me.

"he's talking from experience, love," mom interjected. her too? usually i relied on her to get me out of uncomfortable conversations.

i just nodded, avoiding eye contact with my best friends beside me. this was just awkward to talk about in front of them, and in front of the audience that i make jokes to in my head all the time.