Sing []Ryden Daughter[]

Two

" I'm home!" I yell as I close the door, and soon enough, Brendon comes out of the kitchen and says. " Hey sweetie, how was school? Made any new friends?" I slip my backpack off my shoulder and hang it up on my peg. "Meh," I say shrugging, "There was this line girl, Lauren, who I had a chat with while everyone else played Ameri-. Uhh, football. She had her leg in a cast, so she couldn't play." I only just remembered that while I may have the mind of a Brit, I live in an American house. Where football is rugby with numbers on the pitch and and soccer is normal football. I walk into the kitchen with Brendon begind me, and grab a cereal bar out of the cupboard when footsteps hammer down the stairs, and Ryan enters. "Hey Skye. How was school?" I open my mouth to reply, but I get cut off as Brendon sarcastically repeats my answer to his exact same question, mimicking a British accent. Ryan laughes, so do I (but only a little bit). But I then sit up on the kitchen counter and say. "You really can't do my accent." But he just mimicks my sentence again, this time with Ryan. "Argh. I'm going upstairs." I say in a rather teenage like fashion. Brendon raises one eyebrow, and I make up an excuse. "To my massive pile of homework." But they don't buy my sarcasm, so I just grab my bag and wander upstairs.

I plomp myself on my bed, and instead of whipping out wads of papers, I open up my laptop and land on YouTube. I scroll through the homescreen, full of recommendations of my subscriptions, but it's mostly just Shane Dawson. I reason the titles and scroll further until one video catches my eye, The Simulation Theory. Whoa, thats gotta be an interesting topic. So I click on it and put it into full screen. It starts if with a clip from one of his podcasts, but I just skip it anyway, even though it's only barely half a minute long. And then the proper video starts.

"Sup you guyyyys and welcome to another creepy conspiracy video." He says moving his hands in a window washing motion before rubbing his hands together. I turn up the volume as he's speaking in a whisper. I watch for a while, and before I know it, I've watched one, two, then five videos. As soon as the fifth one stops, I don't find another to watch, I just stare at the screen and say, "Whoa." My phone vibrates beside me, and I snap out of being shocked at the endless amounts of evidence to prove the theory, and pick it up. I see a message from Ryan saying

Ryan: Dinners ready.

I sigh, but clear the search history, wait a couple of seconds so it seems like my phone was on silent, slip my phone into my pocket and plod down the stairs. Halfway down, I stop and inhale a scent that's just found its way to my nose. Spaghetti Meatballs, my favourite meal that we always have after my first day. I smile, and ultimately carry on down faster. I speed walk through the kitchen and into the dining room. Brendon notices my slight smile and says, "I see you smelt the food." I laugh and sit down while he continues and asks me "Would you like any cheese." I look to the side of the dark "wood" table that Ryan sits, where a bowl of two large chunks if cheese and a cheesegrater sits. I reach over while saying "Can't forget the cheese." I pick up a square and start grating. A pile of faint yellow strips form slowly on my bowl, and the base has started melting when Ryan looks over my shoulder and says, "Isn't that enough?" I just shake my head and carry on grating. "You can never have to much cheese." But after a while, simply of the feer that I may have more cheese in my bowl than the actual meal, I stop and stir it about so that it all melts in quicker. I then cut up the spaghetti so it isn't half a mile long (like how they come in Wallmart) and I start eating.

" So then," Ryan begins, " Who's your favourite teacher so far?" I look him and swallow before answering. "I haven't got one, really. But the maths teacher hates me." Brendon, trying to be reassuring, says. "I bet they don't." But I just shake my head. " Nope, he really does. Every time I look up at the board to see the question he just says 'Stop daydreaming Skye and get on with your work.'" Ryan just says, " Well, there's always one."

We talk and eat for a few minutes. Mostly about how the press are so (closing the) Goddamn (door) annoying. I rarely look down at my bowl, until I stab my fork for some spaghetti when it just collides with the base of the bowl. I look down and see that there's only just a bit of tomato puré left. "Whoa, you ate that quickly." Brendon says, making me look up. "It is my favourite." I say, shrugging it off. I was hungry, after all. I reach for my cup of Walmarts version of coke and take a sip, while I catch Ryan nodding at Brendon, both of them grinning like idiots. "OK, what are you planning." I say, a little more aggressive than I planned. "Go into the kitchen, and open the cupboard that the cereals would be in." Brendon says before Ryan adds on. "And then the one with the baking stuff in." Brendon raises one eyebrow and unsurely says, "Okay..." Extending on the Y.

I eagerly get up and quickly drag my tank into the kitchen. I look back through the door, where Ryan and Brendon are leaning so they can see me. I wince as I open the cereal door, expecting party poppers or some other predictable jump scare, but nothing happens. I slowly open my eyes, and stare inside. Where in the usually empty bottom shelf, sits a moderatly sized, circular red sponge with white icing and red sprinkles. I sniff, and I receive a glorious chocolate and vanilla smell. "Red velvet!" I say, looking back where both my parents are smiling. " Who's is this. The next birthday is Pete's, but that a good few weeks away!" I half say, half shout, remembering Fall Out Boy's Bassists birthday. "Pete doesn't like chocolate cake, remember?" Ryan says like I'm an idiot, which Anxiety says, creeping up on me, is probably true. "Well then, who's is it?" A part of me hopes that it's mine, and it's proved correct as both Brendon and Ryan nod at me. "No way!" I say exited and overjoyed. "Nope!" Brendon says back. "Did you guys bake this?" I say curiously, taking it down from the shelf. Ryan looks at Brendon and says, "We found a recipe on the Internet and wanted to try it out." I hold the cake on a tin lid in one hand (just about) and pull my tank in the other back into the dining room. I place the cake in the middle of the table and sit down before Ryan says, "You've still got the other cupboard." I grunt a teenage like "Argh" before I reenter the kitchen and to the baking cupboard. I look back and see Ryan whispering something in Brendon's ear, then smiling as well. I step back, and open the cupboard door.

And three eggs fall out and splat on the counter. I recognise the prank, our version of the flour prank as it could trigger my throat. Though luckily, I didn't get hit, as this trick always happens to make an appearance on the first of April.

I look back at Ryan and Brendon, and break out laughing just as they do. I walk back and say while pointing to Ryan, "Your cleaning that up!" Ryan just shrugs, and I sit down. "I dibs the biggest peice!" Brendon yells, putting his hand up. "I want the biggest! It's my cake!" I retaliate. But Ryan stops the argument before it happens by saying that we can both have equal pieces.

I cut the cake into three roughly equal pieces, leaving three quarters for tomorrow night, the next and the one after that. After that, we eat, we laugh and we (after lots of persuasion) help Ryan clean up.

After brushing my teeth, taking off my concealer, getting into my pajamas and saying good night to my parents, I floomp onto my bed and stare at a photo of me and Rebecca, by closest friend from my last school, that I had to leave not because of the facilities, but because the bullies sent me spiralling into depression, leading to me attempting suicide. I close my eyes and fall asleep with the taste of vanilla in my mouth.