The Cinderella Agreement (Completed) [Featured Story]

16: The Cookies

I was such in a hurry to just update something so I hope this chapter doesn't suck!! Please vote and comment, but if not, WELCOME TO YOUR TAPE

"Are you sure you guys don't want to go with us?" Anne asked Mit and Reece in the kitchen one last time, simultaneously adjusting the little (and unnecessary) bow tie around Sam's neck. "Your jaddi and jaddati will like to see you."

"If they see Sam, it's okay. He's pretty much the favorite out of all of us," Reece said.

"That's not true."

"It's pretty true, Mom," Mit inputed.

"Maybe it's because of my adorableness and irresistible charm," Sam gloated, managing to keep his face neutral as his mother slathered on another layer of her concealer over his fading black eye.

"Maybe it's because you're the most portable and you can speak Arabic fluently," Reece deadpanned, peering into the bowl of chocolate cookies Anne had brought from work. Even though she was a part-time sales associate from the cookie company half a town over, she had managed to snag a couple of the biscuits from the quality quality control department, although a majority of them were rejects.

The box was like a mixture of different personalities thrown in together, with some pastries a little too sweet while some missed out on sugar and came out bland, some a little too burnt and some not cooked enough, some with little to no chocolate and some with too much chocolate—well scratch that, there was never too much chocolate. 

"Don't touch any of those! I'm not yet done picking out the ones to take out," Anne snapped, slapping Reece's hand away. She always made a big deal out of visiting Hank's parents, as if she was paying homage to the Queen of England herself.

Maybe it was because she had nothing in common with them; whereas she was American they were Lebanese, whereas she was Catholic they were Muslim, whereas they were trilingual she only knew English along with a just spattering of Arabic, and despite the twenty or so years that she'd known them, she always got this off-vibe that they were just not impressed, and being the fussy brown-noser she was, this belief didn't sit well with her at all.

"You already picked ten! I'm hungry," he complained.

"Then eat the burnt ones."

His face crumpled in distaste. "Those are for the trash anyway."

"So?" Sam asked, a shit-eating smirk gracing his tan face. "I really don't see the problem there. They're for you either way."

"Ayeee," Mit cooed approvingly, extending a fist to knock with her brother's.

"Who taught you to diss?" Reece demanded, sticking out an accusing forefinger at Sam.

"You and your sister, obviously." Anne sighed, resting a hand against her temple. "I hope this doesn't become a thing; I already have two sassy children, I don't need three." She had been inspecting a cookie as she spoke, the ones under the chocolate-related defect category, and it passed its test. She carefully placed it into a lined box. "Are you sure you can't come with?" she asked again, earnestly, and with her large brown eyes staring back at them, Mit almost thinks she's scared.