"Flatty"

Chapter 3

I take off my oversized jacket and synthesized leather boots before walking past the entry hall. As per usual, I immediately head for the main pantry... even If I know that Divya will most likely than not have beaten me to it. After navigating through the castle that is our house for a couple of minutes, I finally come across the metallic door that leads into the pantry. It slides open and I immediately head towards the fruits section, acting like I hadn't noticed that my sister is snacking at the table on my right. She, however, sadly doesn't seem to catch on that I'm not in the mood to chitchat.

"Hey Flatty, how was your day? Boring as usual I guess." She says between two mouthfuls of what appears to be some of the leftover calorically enhanced chocolate cake from yesterday.

In front of the screen, I turn around to face her "I've already told you, stop calling me Flatty."

"Ok, ok," she backs down "Your full name is ridiculous enough already anyways... How was school LA-TI-KA?" She pronounces each syllable distinctly before eating another big mouthful of the cake she's indulging in.

"No it's not," I snap back, "And my day was fine if you absolutely need to know."

"Well, let's just say that I'm glad dad – and not mom – chose my name."

"Oh yeah cause "Divya" is so much better!" I sarcastically add, turning around to face the digital screen once more.

"Uh yeah it is. In case you haven't noticed, my nickname doesn't mock my flat stomach." And another mouthful of cake disappears.

"Oh 'cause you think being called a "Diva" is any better?" I snap back while swiping different items on the screen, looking for my after-school snack.

"Well, I am one. And being a diva isn't bad, it's in. Having a flat stomach, on the other hand, isn't. Well, in fact, having a flat anything isn't the way to go... Or have you not processed that in that thick head of yours yet?"

I pretend like I didn't hear her and keep swiping. Dang it, where are those raspberries? I hope that they didn't forget to fill up the materializer again.

"And my day went great by the way, thanks for asking!" She adds.

"Unhun" I answer absentmindedly, still swiping furiously.

"Actually it was obese! Want to know why?" Div doesn't wait for an answer and goes on, "Cause I got a new modeling deal AND I get to keep the clothes afterwards too. And guess what else? I got a perfect grade on my algebra quiz and Xander actually talked to me today. Like not just his charming smile, actual words were coming out of his mouth too..."

"Yes!" I exclaim, effectively cutting her off. I finally found those delicious red berries. I tap on the 3-D image of the fruits and watch as atoms come together as if by enchantment to form a filled-to-the-brim-bowl of raspberries.

"Flatty are you listening?" Div asks, obviously annoyed.

"Unhun." I turn around to face her, bowl in hand "A magazine that's probably going to ditch you in less than 2 days offered to take pictures of you so that boys could drool over them and you get to keep clothes that you are never going to wear ever again anyways." I start heading towards the door while going on, "Oh, and you cheated on a math test so you got a perfect grade. Also, there was something about another one of your endless to-be boyfriend who opened his mouth around you so you're going to get married tomorrow." Without waiting for a response, I bolt to the door yet, just before exiting the pantry, I can't resist turning around one last time and adding, "And for the last time, my name isn't Flatty, it's Latika... Or have you not processed that in that thick head of yours yet?" I finish, mimicking my sister's high pitch voice.

I can hear the spoon hit the ground before the door slides back into place behind me. That felt good. I'm going to pay for it later but it was totally worth it. I walk through a couple of rooms before stepping onto the automatic stairs and I indulge in a few of my raspberries until I reach the third floor. I then start tiptoeing on the fluffy carpet towards my room, wary of making even the slightest sound. As I pass by my dad's office, I can hear him talking – well, screaming would actually be more appropriate – through the door at what I assume to be a digitalized version of one of his many employees. I pause to listen.

"No! Tomorrow just isn't good enough! I want those pills advertised on every single Padlet of Amerax and I want it done by 8 o'clock tonight."

Great, he sounds totally normal and doesn't seem to have heard me using the stairs. I resume my cautious padding until I reach the safety of my room.