Moving in with the Metzingers

Chapter 3

Aunt Jenny said we could sleep on it, but that we need to give her a final answer by the end of the week. Today is Sunday.

Lanie hasn't said a word since Aunt Jenny's talk. She went right up to her room, gnawing on her lip andfiddling with her ring. I thanked Aunt Jenny for helping out with the funeral, and went to bed. I think it is an unsaid agreement that we keep Ara out of it until we make our decision. No matter what happens, it can wait until tomorrow. I'm exhausted.

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I wake to the sound of Lana Del Ray's voice singing "Summertime Sadness." I groan. That has got to be the third time this week that same song has been playing on the radio when my alarm goes off. I don't have anything against Lana Del Ray; she is an amazing singer. It's just that the dance teachers at my studio seem to think it is the only song with a good enough beat for our dancing, so I hear "Summertime Sadness" at least twice a day, during warm-ups and combos.

Clicking the button on my clock radio to switch to my second set station, I smile when I hear "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. I heave myself out of bed and groan when I realize I slept in my clothes from the funeral. I quickly toss my depressing black outfit on the floor, I hop into the shower for ten minutes until my hair is silky enough to brush through, and I come out. Wrapping my bathrobe around myself, I plug in my hair dryer and turn it on high. I have incredibly thick, red hair, and it takes way too long to blowdry thoroughly. Once satisflied with my semi-dry hair, I put the dryer back into the cabinet and stand in front of my dresser, debating whether to wear clack or not. People at school already think I'm some sort of goth, since black is my favorite color and you won't find many others when looking through my wardrobe. If I wear black today like always, people will assume it's because I'm mourning, and they'll offer their condolences, just like everyone else I see. On the other hand, if I don't wear black, that would seem pretty suspicious since I rarely change my color scheme. Finally concluding that another day of black can't hurt, I decide to go with a mix.

I dig my favorite pair of black skinny jeans from my pants drawer and match them with some black combat boots. Scouring my shirt drawer for a splash of color, I immediately discard the pale pink puffy blouse someone must have gotten me for my birthday, and settle for a small pale blue top that hung loosely ove the edgesof my shoulders and and ended just below my belly button. I threw it on over a black camisole and pulled my slightly-damp hair back into a sloppy high ponytail. Ignoring the full makeup bag my mom bought me in hopes that I would take on thw girly habit of enjoying covering my face in superficial powder for the purpose of looking more plastic, I fished out a black zip-up hoodie from the bin in my closet, grabbed my bag, and made my way downstairs.

When I arrived in the kitchen, I was startled my its unusually silent emptiness. Shaking it off as I had been for the past week, I put two pop tarts in the toaster for my sisters and poured a bowl of cereal for myself. Once I had finished my breakfast, I sighed and bit my lip, imagining mom and dad where they would always be at this time on a Monday morning. Dad at the end of the kitchen table, sipping his coffee and eading the newspaper, pointing out random current events, or watching his favorite morning news channel on the flatscreen that hung hext to our fridge, above the appliances. Mom cooking something undoubtedly delicious, be it bacon and eggs or biscuits, while calling up to my sisters to get their butts out of bed. I am always downstairs with them at this time in the morning, and we enjoyed our little allotted time with each other each morning. Sure, weusually didn't talk that early, but it was never this quiet. You could always hear thesizzling of bacon, or the boiling of water on the stove, or mom's perfectly on-pitch humming while she cooked, or the calm, informative voice of Lindsay Darren, the newscaster on dad's favorite morning news channel, or dad's absentminded comments on what Manchester-by-the-sea is coming to as he reads the paper, or the blaring music from Lanie's room as she takes forever to ge tready. It's never this quiet.

Knowing perfectly well that Aunt Jenny was already at work (she may live in Colorado, but she managed to schedule meetings with several clients who lived in Massachussetts while she was out here) and my sisters are not going to get ready without some persuasion, I pressed "reheat" on the toaster and headed back upstairs. I went to Ara's room first, opening the door to find her still lying in her bed.

"Come on, Ara. Get up," I said softly, shaking her awake. "You don't want to be late for school."

Ara groaned, but didn't protest when I lifted her out of he bed and handed her the outfit she had picked out last night. She yawned and made no move to get dessed.

i sighed, expecting this. "Ara," I explained. "I have to take you and Lanie to school today, so it's going to take a while. I need to you get ready so you don't make Lanie and I late. Okay?"

"Oh-kaaay," Ara replied reluctantly, taking the clothes and rubbing her eyes.

I smiled at her greatfully and left her to get changed. One down, one to go.

I knocked on Lanie's door but got no answer. After waiting a couple of seconds, I opened the door and walked in. Lanie was also still in bed. This I had anticipating, because her alarm clock isn't get for this early. I walk over to her bed to wake her up.

"Lanie," I whisper. "Lanie." I repeat, louder this time. Lanie is a light sleeper, so this wakes her up.

"Maaaaal," she whines, glancing at her clock. "It's not even seven yet."

"I know," I reply. "But I have to bring Ara to school today too, remember? She starts at seven-thirty, and it's a thirty-minute drive to Manchester. Then another thirty-minute drive back, a ten-minute drive to your school, and five minutes to TAH. You can sleep in the car. Get up."

Lanie groans, but gets up and motions for me  to leave so she can get ready. I close her door behind me and go to the bathroom to check up on Ara. She is fully dressed, with presentable hair, and she is brushing her teeth. When I peek in, she gives me a foamy grin and a thumbs up. I smile at her, and go back downstairs.

I remove the poptarts from the toaster and place them on two dishes. Ara comes down a few minutes later, and wordlessly sits on the stool in front of one of the dishes. Simultaneously eating her breakfast and spinning around on her stool, she mumbles, "Mallie?"

"Yeah?" I reply, looking at my youngest sister.

"I don't have a booster anymore."

"Oh," I answer, looking out the window at my car, a blue Mercades with two backwards-facing seats in the trunk, and no carseats. I realize that Ara's pink booster had been in mom's car when the accident happened. "I guess you'll just have to do without for today."

Ara frowns, but nods understandingly.

I knew how much she had liked her booster, so I piped up, "How about I take you to get a new booster seat after school?"

Ara smiles and nods vigorously. I laugh at her bubbly reaction and turn to the other wall, where I turned off the house alarm.

"That poptart is for you, Lane," I say without turning around when I hear my other sister coming down the stairs.

"Thanks," Lanie acknowledged, taking the dish and swinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"Ready to go, girls?" I ask, looking at both of my sisters, who nodded.

Without another word, we all walked out the door, and I grabbed Ara's purple backpack, locking the door on my way out.

I hopped into the driver's seat, turning the car on and checking to see if everyone's seat belt was on while buckling my own.

As I started the car and drove towards Manchester, in the opposite direction of Lanie and my schools, Lanie turned my radio on. Aside from Adele's voice blasting out of the speakers, the carride was silent, lanie drifting off in the passenger seat and Ara lost in her own world.