Annalise Starke had known her mother was going to die eventually; she just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.
At fifteen she had moved with her mother back to her home country of Australia with half a heart (metaphorically, of course) and her mo...
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It had become very apparent that Dad was still gone on business.
The fridge was nearly empty, most of its contents being condiments and pickles. Had Breck even seen the inside of a grocery store? I wondered how long had he'd been surviving on toast and Cheez-itz, and if it was like this every time Dad was gone.
I shut the fridge, a blast of cold air washing over me. "Alright, so we might not have much for a picnic lunch," I said, turning to face Sylvie.
She stared at me from her spot on the barstool, arms resting on the counter. "Great," she mumbled. "You know," her voice rose, calling loud enough for Breck to hear from the living room. "You are allowed to go grocery shopping regardless of things like age, gender, or marital status."
Breck groaned from the other room. "We know, you've said it about a million times."
She turned. "And yet it's still not getting through your thick skull."
"Honestly, Sylvie, I'm kind of impressed that you've surpassed passive aggression and mastered aggressive-aggression."
"Ha!" she feigned a laugh. "Am I really a master if you still dodge my point like it's a red flag?"
I brought my hand up to massage my temples. "Guys," I groaned. "There's no use in fighting. The fridge is empty. Breck and I will have to go shopping at some point, or we'll starve, and there's no time like the present!"
I'd spent so much time trying to figure out lunch—because if I didn't do it, would it get done?—that they were all ready to go.
I looked down at my pajamas. "Can you guys make a list and load up the beach chairs and umbrella? I'm going to run upstairs and change, and then I'll be ready. We can also just hit the store on the way. Sound good?" there was a chorus of groans from the living room, but it was better than a no.
I took the stairs two at a time, and as soon as my bedroom door was shut behind me, I began throwing off my extra large tee and boxer shorts.
Quickly, I threw on the swimsuit I'd bought back in Australia this summer—well, winter, technically... I don't know—a cheery red gingham bikini, and slipped into my well-loved Levi's overalls. I left one of the buttons unclasped and tied half my hair back in a claw clip.
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