Tipping the Scales

4. Chores

"Hazel!" Mum was yelling through the door, "Hazel!"
She pounded on the door. This woke me up.
"How long has she been in there?" I heard her ask someone.
"Ever since I got home," Zeke replied, "She was in the bathroom when I got home and didn't even wait for me at school."
"Hazel, open this door now!"
I got up dazedly and opened the door.
"Hazel! What have you been doing all afternoon? It's five-thirty!"
"Sleeping?" I replied groggily.
"You haven't done your chores."
"What chores?"
"The roster!"
"What roster?"
Then I remembered – the stupid roster! Dad had made a roster a few months ago, since we had a lot of people in our household, and we were expected to follow it. Mum and Dad were very strict about it. That's what Zeke meant by the 'work' that we had to do. Then I suddenly remembered... Monday night was my night for washing the dishes. What was I going to do!?

Our roster system is as above (notice how Zeke and Zoe have six whilst everyone else has five).  So not only do I have to do the dishes, but I have to dry them on Friday and unpack the dishwasher on Thursday... oh, and clean the downstairs bathroom on Saturday! That's just perfect! You can't do any of those without getting some water on you. I didn't know what I was going to do! But then I got an idea... it's Zander's turn to dry the dishes, so why can't I just pay him to wash them as well? 

"Mum, where's Zander?" I went downstairs to the kitchen to ask Mum after she had finished scolding me.
"He's in his room, I think," she replied.
I went upstairs to Zander's room, which was directly opposite Zoe's. I knocked on the door.
"Hey, Zander? Can I come in?"
"Okay," his sweet little nine-year-old voice replied.
"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked really friendlily.
"Just building some train tracks."
"Can I help?"
"Sure."
"So, Zander, you know it's Monday, right?"
"Yeah."
"So, tonight is our turn for the dishes. And I was wondering if you could wash and dry the dishes tonight, because I have a lot of homework to do."
"No! I'm not doing your work, Hazel!"
"I'm serious! I'll pay you!"
"How much?"
"Five dollars."
"Ten."
"Seven."
"Done."
"Okay, good. Thanks so much for this, Zander."
I kissed him on the head and left his room.

So I managed to get out of doing the dishes. That was a relief. No popping a tail tonight... hopefully. 

•••

"Tea's ready!" Mum called.
I got up from my desk, where I was searching mermaid folklore, and went downstairs. Dad was serving up a meal that I used to like... fish. I didn't feel right eating fish... I was practically half-fish now! Wouldn't it be like cannibalism? Mackenzie was setting the table and Zeke and Zander were already there.
"Waiting for Zoe, as usual," Mum mumbled under her breath.
"Zoe! Get down here now!" Dad bellowed.
She came sauntering down the stairs. Soon all the kids were seated at the table and Mum and Dad served the fish and chips. All seven of us were seated in silence from then on.
"Why are you sitting here?" I asked them, "You usually sit on the lounge."
"We decided to sit with our children for a change," Mum answered.
It was silent except for the sound of knives and forks cutting and some certain people chewing very loudly.
"So, how was everyone's day today?" Mum tried to start a conversation. She got a response of unintelligible mumbles.
"I can count to fifteen, Mummy!" Mackenzie exclaimed excitedly.
"That's excellent, Kenzie!" Mum praised.
"Good job, sweetheart," Dad praised.
"What about you, Zeke? Do anything interesting?"
"Nope, nothing out of the ordinary," he replied.
"Hazel, you?"
What was I going to say? 'Oh yeah, I found out that I'm a mermaid...' As if!
"Oh, nothing much," I said instead.
"Zoe?"
"I got a tattoo," she said coolly.
You could hear a pin drop. In fact, you could certainly hear knives and forks dropping.
"I beg your pardon?" Dad said slowly.
"Yeah, it's awesome. It's a skull."
"Where exactly did you get this 'tattoo'?" Mum asked.
"At school. Everyone's got them now. They're cool. Each gang has their own signature tattoo."
"Gang!?" Mum and Dad squawked at the same time.
"There are no gangs at their school," I assured them.
"Is it a real tattoo?" Mum asked Zoe.
"Oh, Mum, as if!" I butted in again. Mum practically choked on her own breath when she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Is it one of those stick-on ones?"
"Yes Mum, of course it is!" Zoe replied, "You actually think I would get a real one at my age? I'm your angel child!"