Everest, untitled.

Chapter 4

I have serious complaints about the stars by Friday.

What I thought was a mini-breakthrough in recovering our friendship turned out to be a pipe dream, as Javi continued to ignore me for the past three days. My mood was accordingly sour.

Also for the second time in one week, I saw my father in the morning, which was never a good sign. This time he even joined us early enough to eat breakfast with the twins, and I look at them from over my coffee mug in a safe distance from the other side of the kitchen.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit?" dad asks.

"Very sure."

"And you really cannot join us tonight for dinner?"

"Also very sure."

Friday night dinners became a thing where Dad decided he needed to compensate for his late working hours, which I honestly don't mind in the slightest, and take us out for dinner on Fridays. For years now we repeat our spiel where he asks me and I decline, so we both hold up our appearance that we sort of engage. It enrages me beyond imagination.

I know why he likes spending time with the twins, because who could NOT like the twins, but I'd prefer he'd stop pretending to be interested in my life. That train left a long time ago.

I look at Em, who is very concentrated on their Mini Wheats, but overall has a relaxed face. They and Emmaline are both not morning people, so this is all still normal. When Em looks up to me, I cock my head to the side, a silent question. "Do you want me to go with you today?"

They seem to understand because they slightly shake their head. Alright then.

I turn back to my newly appointed best friend, the coffee machine, to start brewing my potion of darkness. Apparently, I am not lucky enough today to do this without a useless comment.

"So much caffeine cannot be healthy for a kid your age," Dad says with a scowl.

I add another espresso shot on top.

He clears his throat again. Someone is in a talkative mood today.

"Tante Lina sends her regards. She called me last night and thanked us for the flower bouquet."

"Yeah, she texted me too." She invited us to her place to celebrate her new job, but since we all had school and work (and know she won't be keeping it long anyways), I settled on flowers to not seem like a complete asshole.

"I didn't know you sent her something."

"She literally said that we don't celebrate the small successes enough nowadays."

"Yeah, I think she just likes presents," Emma adds.

Now Dad really looked uncomfortable, because he keeps on clearing his throat and shifting in his seat.

"Maybe I can help you next time choose something?"

The silence that follows is so horrible. Even the twins start to make extra noise to shush out the awkwardness that has settled in our living room.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that. Ready to go?" I ask in the directions of the twins, who shoot one last look at Dad before they grab their bags, and off we go. I'll just wait with the twins for their bus before I drive to school. It is way too early, but anything is better than staying inside.

Dad mumbles a goodbye. I don't say anything.

It doesn't get better at school. While I'm now back on track with staying afloat in my classes, and they don't seem too hard as long as I pay attention to them, I was bound to be summoned sooner or later by one of my nemesis: my school counselor, Mr. Bell.