Maze

23

"I'm back!"

Heading inside the house, my nostrils were warmly embraced with the aroma of spices and baked chicken. Then, there were no more thoughts, just the taste of Dad's home-cooked meal. Saliva nearly slipped out of my lips as my instincts immediately directed me to the kitchen. As expected of the head chef on dinner duty.

I ogled at the tray of balsamic marinated chicken—coated with shades of golden brown—on the countertop as Dad was preparing a kitchen knife to chop them up. God, if I did not control myself, I would have flown over and shove those chicken into my mouth, burning my tongue in the process.

Worth the risk.

Mom might prepare the food I desperately wanted for seconds, but Dad's cooking was to die for, like an absolute chef's kiss. No matter how simple the recipes were, they were beyond this world. My skills, on the other hand... well, amateur at best.

"That looks so good!" I gushed, watching him placing all the chicken slices into each plate, adding some vegetables to the wide.

"It's been a while since we had this." Dad grinned, wiping his forehead with his elbow before he yelled, "Marina, Jo, come get your dinner before Rena and I eat them for you!"

Don't drag me into this, Dad...

Not even a second passed, a door was slammed open, followed by a series of ponderous footsteps, making the entire floorboard tremble. Before I could make a comment, Mom catapulted herself towards us at the speed of light, exclaiming, "Leave my chicken alone, sheesh!"

"Still so easy to bait, heh?" Dad chuckled as he removed his plastic gloves. This is definitely where she learns her pranks from.

"Shut it, Blake Wilton," grumbled Mom as she slapped his shoulder and gave him a scowl, but  lighted up as he positioned the plates on each of the spots we usually sat.

Jordan then showed up with his sweatpants and hoodie, with his blue headphones—and I had no idea why he did not use it before—dangling around his neck. I silently walked past him so as not to disrupt his so-called business. Dinner was much better than wasting my energy on retorts.

Ruffling his hair that appeared as though he just fell out of bed, he stared at the food with such an intensity that could reduce his chicken into ashes. However, he raised his brow when I somehow caught his attention.

"So, where did you go today?" I decided to ask politely, at least I tried striking up some interaction.

"...why you ask?" he snorted as he washed his hands in the sink, before it was my turn. "I'm sorry I don't go out as often as you."

Can I get permission to smack his stupid face just once, please Mom? I clenched my teeth and glowered at this exasperating brother of mine as we were assuming our seats. I could literally feel the extra bitterness reeking off him in the back of my tongue. And I was just trying to be civil for once!

Yeah, whatever. I was not going to let him destroy my composure, so I decided to cut my chicken without any more words.

As we started eating, my parents were lost in their conversations about their friends and the restaurant. At some point, Mom asked what I was doing today, and I told them about checking out the new arcade and going to the mall. As typical of Dad's food, the chicken breast was extremely juicy from the marinade and seasoned with perfection. Glad Dad didn't put too much carbs... I'm already satisfied with the pasta for lunch.

With all the last bits of chicken swallowed, I stood up and cleaned after myself. I wiped the table and wanted to wash all of the dirty dishes and bowls, but Mom pulled Jordan over instead—awesome move—and had me shower and take a rest. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed all of my stuff and went upstairs to my room.