Highschool rangers

Chapter 1

Summer's POV

Sunday.

Well, Sunday is defined by some as the day of the week prior to Monday or followed by Saturday and by Christians as a day of worship but for me, Sunday means just plain boring.

Firstly, because it's a holiday, which means no school and I love school, (that's just my personal opinion, so don't run after me with daggers, thank you) and secondly because I see everyone going out with their families which makes me nostalgic.

We used to be an ideal family too or at least I thought so. Dad, mom, my four-year-old brother Chase and I had a tradition of family picnics every Sunday. Chase and I used to help mom prepare lunch and then clean the car with dad while spraying each other with the hose pipe. Those were the days!

But then last year mom decided she didn't want to be with dad anymore and so she left with Chase. Not that I hate her, I mean it's alright to get separated if you don't feel it working, but I feel so pathetic for dad.

He lost his jovialness and replaced his free hours with more and more work to keep himself occupied. He works as a guide at the town's local museum from morning till noon and then as a chef at a fancy restaurant from noon to almost midnight. No doubt he earns a lot and gives me the best of amenities but he lost his life. And that's the only reason why I am upset with mom. Besides, I only get to see Chase twice a year as mom stays in Oregon with her mother.

Shaking the thoughts away, I flip the pancake from the pan to the plate and switch off the flame. Opening the sachet of maple syrup, I pour it all over the mountain of pancakes that I've made. I shake the whipped cream can and spray it on the first layer. Finally, I top with a large piece of crispy fried bacon. As it's a Sunday, dad's home and it's almost evening so I thought of making him some pancakes for snacks.

I place the plate with the utmost care on the dining table, trying my best not to ruin my creation. As soon as dad notices his evening snack, he shuts the laptop and keeps it aside. I pull out a chair and sit opposite him and start pouring him a glass of milk.

"Presentation on point", he remarks and just like a judge on MasterChef, he places an apron on his lap and premier, he tastes the bacon. "Perfectly fried and crispiness is balanced with the moisture very accurately. Très bien!" he comments.

After relishing the bacon slice, he cuts through the pile of pancakes and takes an enormous chunk, not forgetting to take the whipped cream as well and analyzes it before taking the bite.

Two whole minutes and seventeen seconds later, he says, "Parfait!" and then the both of us start laughing.

"Honestly sweetheart, it's lip-smacking, after let me guess, eighty or so attempts, isn't it?" He titters.

"Exaggerating game strong dad? This is just the fifth attempt, alright?" I deadpan.

"Close enough" he shrugs while taking a sip of milk.

"Ha ha ha... as close as Russia and Antarctica dad" I roll my eyes, but smile nevertheless. At least he's not gloomy.

"Here, taste for yourself", he pushes the plate towards me.

"Nah, I hate maple syrup, besides, you're just saying it so that I don't feel bad and no, don't deny it. Nobody can make pancakes as perfect as you." I sigh.

"Whatever floats your boat kiddo, but they are truly amazing. By the way, Blair called-"

"Fuck", I get up with a swift jerk. "Do I look presentable?" I ask dad while opening my ponytail and brushing my fingers through my hair, untangling them in the process.