The Quirky Tale of April Hale (Quirky Series #1)

24: Rendezvous at a Funeral

recap: April's parents and Ryder's parents now know that Ryder have been sleeping in April's room. A huge fight ensues. Ryder decides to move out from April's room.

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24: Rendezvous at a Funeral

"I'm not going to do whatever the hell you want me to do just because you're sick, Ok? It's my life! I deserve to have a say in my own life!"

Ugh. Now we had stepped back to this again.

"I will not tolerate you speaking to me like that, you scum of the earth! I'm your father!"

"Yeah? Will be easier for me to think you're my father if you act like one!" 

A thousand needles jabbed all over my head from the cranial center of my brain. This was what happened whenever I was woken up with a jolt. This was what happened when I didn't get my eight hour of beauty sleep.

And I couldn't believe that I had to listen to them Blacks fighting again.

Ryder and his father had already started yelling at each other ten minutes before my unconsciousness started to wake me up. Apparently, after about a month of waking up with a normal alarm, it was still hard for me to adjust myself with the alarm of living creatures. I guess it was true what they said about 21 day to make it a habit. I had already accustomed myself to not hear the Blacks fighting, and thus when they started again (naturally because Ryder was back in the house) it felt like a new, nifty, very annoying thing.

Downstairs, my whole family was sipping coffee with their eyes half-open. I had a feeling that they shared my predicament.

"Morning, sweetheart," Mom stretched her lips into a small smile, but I wasn't sure if she was looking at me at all with those almost-closed eyes. "Cheery morning today, huh?"

I shrugged. I skipped the coffee and since it was already Sunday again, I grabbed for the strawberry milk.

Ten meters beside us, the three members of the Black family were still bickering with full volume.

"There should be a law against people who scream in the morning," my father droned.

"They do make nice, reliable alarm," I said.

"I hate them," Quentin said as he pressed both of his hands on either sides of his head. Yesterday he had gone partying and had gone home at dawn. There was a trash bin with questionable content near his legs that smelled a lot like vomit.

"Bad hangover?" I asked.

"The worst."

"I don't know how they manage to wake up so early in the morning just to scream at each other," Mom commented.

I tried to block my ears from truly listening at the kind of topic that they were yelling about. Ever since the confrontation last week, the whole family finally knew that Mr. Black had stadium IV cancer, and we made a pact to avoid gossiping about them.

But from the way Mom's mouth kept twitching at every sentences that were heard ten meters away, I was sure she had a hard time not giving commentaries.

Just a few seconds later, I could already hear some plates being thrown around, the clacking sound nearly shattered my ears. I had to remind myself to tell Ryder not to throw the glasses and ceramics early in the morning, no matter how very angry he was.

Quentin groaned. "He's going to come here, isn't he?"

"I think so," I said. It had become yet another new habit of us. Whenever Ryder and his father fought and both of them couldn't stand each other anymore, Ryder would run off to our house.