Never Been Kissed

- NINE -

                                                                          -•NINE•-

 

 

“Opal, get in the car.” I glared at my little sister, which she returned with equal bitterness.

“But I wanna play s’more!” she whined, her round hazel eyes burning into me with the malevolence of a thousand suns.

“No! We have to go now. Mom’s orders.” I replied holding open the door and gesturing to the car seat. Why did little kids have to be so difficult?

“Nooo...” Opal whined again, stamping over and over.

We scowled at each other for a few minutes. Then, a plan clicked into place inside of my head. Arguing with a five year old just wouldn’t work. So I grabbed my sister, kicking, thrashing and screaming and stuffed her into the booster seat, clipping her in faster than the speed of light. She struggled against the belt keeping her in, her small hands forcing the little lock around her waist, but she couldn’t get it open because it was child proof. Thank you modern technology!

Opal glared darkly at me, folding her arms. “No fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” I frowned, closing the door.

I got into the car and started the engine, pulling off the curb and beginning the drive home. I had to turn up the music on the radio to block out all of Opal’s sadistic backseat plots. I’d rather be surprised when she threw her oatmeal on me tomorrow morning or hid her Barbies in my pillowcase, or something evil like that. I just prayed softly that this time included no paint.

I pulled the car into the driveway, narrowly escaping a scrape with one of mom’s prized azalea bushes (what? I had a blind spot!), parking swiftly before cutting the engine. I got out of the car and opened the door so I could unclasp Opal. When she was free, she dodged me and raced across our perfectly manicured garden to the front door; probably going to fulfill her evil little sister duties.

I got all her stuff and followed her up to the house.

“Mom?” I called out, chucking my keys into the awkward glass bowl that Opal and I had made in the kitchen a few months ago. I’d never forget that. There were silicone chunks in the oven for days.

No one answered.

That was weird.

I ditched Opal’s stuff in the foyer and was about to head upstairs when I hear the low rumble of voices and an excited giggle. I stopped walking; puzzled. Someone was in the house. I grabbed a broom that my mother had probably forgotten to return to the linen closet across the hallway after tidying up this morning and clutched it tightly between my fists.

Following the low buzz of chatter, I skulked slowly down the hallway, until I was near to the family room, where the sounds got louder. I pressed my back up against the wall and took a deep breath. This was like Mission Impossible, except, less cool, and I’d probably end up looking like an idiot while the intruder poked out my eyes.

I was busy trying to fortify my ambush, when I heard a familiar giggle.

Opal.

What was she doing?

Dropping my spy charade, I stepped into the doorway of the family room. There were no thieves in the house as my overactive imagination had firstly jumped to. Just mom, Opal and...

Beck?

They were sitting on the sofa looking completely comfortable with one another, what with Beck sitting so close to mom (or was it the other way round) and Opal in his lap. In mom’s hands was a familiar red book. As she turned the aged pages, realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Why was she showing him that thing? I thought I’d buried that wretched book in the darkest corner of the house!