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The wind whistled, sneaking through a slender crack in the lone windowsill of Nick Byers's bedroom. The whistle paired with a shrill of a beeping alarm clock collided in a horrible attempt to harmonize. In that moment, Nick desperately wished she could claw out her eardrums. Grabbing her pillow, she pulled it over her head, pressing the fabric against her ears.
"Nick? Are you awake?" Her mom asked as she knocked on her daughter's door.
"Yeah," Nick whined. With a frustrated toss, she flung her pillow aside. It tumbled off her bed, softly landing as it hit the floor. Groaning, Nick pushed herself up and slapped the alarm clock into silence before staggering out of bed.
Her pajama pants were in disarray. The left leg was rolled up just below her knee, while the right twisted tightly around her mid-thigh. Nick trudged through clothes and loose yarn that plagued her room as if she were in a marsh before grabbing a crumpled shirt off the floor—that smelled faintly of Halloween's festivities—and sliding it over her head.
Just as Nick swung her door open, Jonathan barreled down the hallway. The two would've collided if Nick hadn't stepped back just before Jonathan could trample her.
Anger brewed in Nick's veins. She stood in her doorway, her knuckles white as she crushed her doorknob. She stayed there, waiting for an apology from her brother. But it never came. With a tight jaw, she rolled her eyes and left her room, entering the kitchen.
The fluorescent light buzzed overhead. The air swirled with the rich scent of fried bacon and the sweet aroma of syrup. It was heavenly. A slight breeze, carrying the crisp fall air, slipped through the half-open window above the sink. Nick could hear the faint chirps of the morning birds. Nick always liked the morning birds. They were a way better wake-up call than her alarm clock.
Nick grabbed the off-brand cereal that was wedged between a syrup bottle and a spice rack and poured it into a plastic bowl before drowning it in milk. Seizing a spoon with a slightly bent handle from a drawer, she turned and headed back to her room.
"Hey, Nick, why don't you eat out here—"
Nick slammed her bedroom door behind her, cutting off her mom's words.
Joyce sighed. Catching the sound, Will glanced at Jonathan, who offered back a faint, weary smile. The air was thick like the syrup that oozed on their pancakes. No one could breathe. The boys refused to move as they watched their mom closely. Joyce simply stood up, took the plate from the empty chair, and placed it in the sink. On her way back, she paused to plant a gentle kiss on the top of Will's head before settling back into her seat.
Milk dribbled down the corner of Nick's mouth as she opened the blinds to her window. It was a gorgeous day outside. The morning light filtered through the trees, spearing the ground with golden beams that danced over her front yard. Each blade of grass shimmered with dew, sparkling under the sun's early rays like a carpet of tiny jewels.
