Kaleidoscope

|| Chapter 6: Cheerios the Breakfast of Champions? ||

Florence

The smell of bacon wakes me up, "shit" I grumble. I check my phone to make sure, but sure enough it's Sunday. The only day of the week our cook has off. The only day of the week my mom makes breakfast. It also means that the Vitales are coming over.

It's a long standing tradition, that today I dread. I am not in the mood to see Beckett or Emily. 

Emily definitely didn't buy my "feeling sick" excuse and will grill me endlessly as to why I left the dance early, and Beckett... I don't really know how to feel about Beckett. He has me very confused to say the least. 

My door swings open, "Sweetheart! How are you still in bed?"

"Mom, I think I'm dying."

She rolls her eyes, "you barely have a cold, drama queen." 

I see her looking around, "God your room is a disaster... Marta cleaned it just last week, how is it this messy already?" There are probably only three or four of my clothes on the ground, but to my mother that equates to a 'disaster.' 

I cringe as I hear her pulling my curtains open, recoiling as the light immediately burns my eyes, "Now, up and at em, there's no time like the present my little Blossom!" 

I groan, "Why must you always pull the curtains open," my hands go to rub my eyes in frustration, "you know I hate that!"

She chuckles, my pain obviously humorous to her, "because it wakes you up!" she picks up my laundry, tossing it in the basket and goes to leave my room, "Breakfast is almost ready, so I better see you downstairs soon." And with that, she shuts my door finally leaving me alone. 

I lie in my bed for a bit, with my comforter cocooning me. Ah, what is it about blanket that make you feel safe? I wish I could stay here in my bed forever, but seeing how there's no reason to prolong the inevitable, I slowly roll out of bed. 

My feet touch the floor and I immediately retract, cold marble floors are not the best on bare feet first thing in the morning. I do a quick search for my slippers, and slide them on. 

I do my regular morning routine: brush my teeth and wash my face whilst showering (to save time obviously) and then brushing out my hair. I don't bother with make-up, because I don't really know how to put the stuff on. And voila! I'm ready to go

I decide to throw on pajamas again, because who gives a fuck they're comfortable as hell and they will help play to my 'sick' act. My perfectionistic mother might have a heart attack at my "grossly inappropriate attire," but that's a risk I am willing to take. 

As I descend down the main staircase I notice that there are already shoes at the front door, but its only three pairs: heels, loafers, and flats. Hoorah! Beckett didn't show up. 

As I near the living room, I plaster a I've-got-a-stuffy-nose-and-might-vomit look on my face and hope for the best. Time to face the wrath of Emily, and my mother...

I step into the living room and am embraced by the always loving Lee, god bless her soul, "Florence, you look so pale! How are you? Come, let's sit here." 

I do my best to croak out, "Hi, Lee" as she pulls me to the couch. 

Her hand is on my forehead and then my neck as she says, "Emily, told me you weren't feeling well and had to leave the dance early, you poor thing!"