OTHERS (Formerly The Scarlet Effect)

11 - R A N G E

Emmie is the first one awake for the day. I know this because I quickly become the second. Her method to wake me up involves whipping her sheet off the side of the bunk and swinging it in my face until the tickle of the fabric skims my nose just right. I wake up from a mix of flinching and swatting at the air as if there is a fly swarming around my head.

I groan. "Want down?"

"Yes," she whispers.

I scramble out of bed, noticing I'm not wearing my jeans anymore, and quickly search for my clothes in the dark. Travis shuffles around on the bed we were lying in together. He finds my hand, gives it a squeeze, and then let's his arm drop off the side of the bed to hang. I flip the lamp on the table on the kitchen and move on to the cabinets. My eyes fall on the pancake mix and I smile. One good thing about the shelter is the variety in food, thanks to my mother. Sure, it is all non-perishable or packaged in some fashion, but she covered all bases ranging from fruits to soup to peanut butter, and I couldn't applaud her more.

I miss her.

I miss her patience. Her advice. Her knowledge. She was smarter than I ever gave her credit for. If she wanted to live on her own, she'd be able to handle herself just fine, but Dad and her together were an unstoppable team. They thrived off of one another and only built each other up. Dad would fill in any gaps she had and vice versa. I couldn't have been blessed with better people to call my parents. I hope I am making them proud.

"Hey Emmie, what do you say we make some pancakes?" I ask.

I hadn't thought about making any hot food until now, but after I say it, I can't help but crave fluffy warmth of a syrupy, buttery cake. Though, I doubt there is butter and syrup in here.

When Emmie nods, my grin widens. "Wonderful!" I cheer. "Want to help me cook?"

Her face lights up like the sun. "Okay!" she answers excitedly.

"Let's get a bowl, first," I instruct her. I swing open a cabinet down below, yanks one out, and set it on the counter with a clang. I cringe and look over my shoulder at Travis, who is clearly not going to last sleeping during all this. "Next, we're going to dump this white, floury stuff into the bowl. Want to try it?"

She giggles and nods. I open the package and hand it to her cautiously. I hold my breath, knowing she's about to make a huge mess. To my surprise, however, she dumps it neatly into the large bowl and claps her hands afterward. "Now what?"

"Better be making something good, ladies," Travis mumbles into his pillow.

"Next, we have to pour some water in here. Grab a water bottle from the stack." I say. She scurries over and snatches one up. I watch her unscrew the top herself and wait for my cue to spill it in with the pancake mix. "Pour slow. We don't want any of it to spill onto the floor," I warn.

Using both hands, she angles the bottle and lets the water run right into the bowl until it's empty. Her eyes meet mine when she's done, as though she's waiting for confirmation for doing it correctly.

I praise her instantly. "Perfect, Emmie! Now, it's the fun part, where we mix it all together. See this weird looking thing?" I ask, holding out a whisk. "This will help up. I'll get it started and then you get to finish."

I whip the ingredients around until they are mixed pretty well before handing the utensil over to her and letting her, as promised, complete the job.

We spend the remainder of the morning being chefs and whipping up some mediocre, mostly flat, sort of bizarrely-shaped pancakes, but we were successful. They smelled good enough to get half-naked Travis out of bed, which made it even more worth it.