Piece By Piece

Chapter 3

                                                                Chapter Three

                             The cocky bad-boy likes babysitting and animals. 

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    Rainy days have always been my favorite kind of weather. They're just those days where you can snuggle up in a cozy blanket and read your favorite book, while listening to the soft drizzle of the rain splattering against the roof. The rain makes me feel peaceful and sleepy; I absolutely love and cherish that feeling. Especially after a week's worth of homework and teachers and school.

   I'm warm and comfortable under my sheets, listening to the soft rain patter against my windows and roof. It's like I'm in a dream where I'm still awake, but everything's foggy and my eyelids are all droopy and wanting to stay closed. I can feel myself falling back to sleep, my eyelids getting heavier, and heavier, and heavier...

  "Val, make me breakfast!"

    I jolt awake just as Pac decides to Super-man fly on top of me, making me groan. I shove him off of the bed. "Go back to sleep. It's seven in the morning on a Saturday."

  He pulls himself off the floor where I had shoved him. "So? I'm not getting any younger!"

   I glare at him from under the sheets. "If you don't shut up and go back to bed, then you won't be getting any older, either!"

   He huffs at me. "If you don't get up, then I'm going to give you a Wet-Willy."

   "If you do, you lose a finger."

    Ignoring my warning, he licks his finger and tries to stick into my ear. "Gross!" I whip my pillow at him again and again. Finally, I slam the pillow hard onto his back and he loses his balance. He falls onto the floor, his feet sticking straight up. I giggle.

   "I'm telling mom when she gets home!" He shouts, getting to his feet. "You're gonna be in trouble!"

  "Like I care!" I shout back. Before I chunk my pillow at him again, Pac runs out of my room, slamming my door shut in the process. I groan. I love Pac and all, but sometimes he's a major pain in the ass. Sure he has his sweet moments, but still- the kid could win an award for being an annoying dork.

  I try falling back asleep, but after twenty minutes of restless tossing and turning, I give up. I roll out of bed, rubbing my eyes. My stomach growls like a raging beast, eager for me to feed it. I stumble downstairs and then make my way into the kitchen. I go to the pantry and search the shelves for breakfast.

   I finally find the box of Frosted Flakes and then shake some into a bowl. Then I drench the cereal in milk. I take a bite as I spread out onto the couch, careful not to jostle the bowl around too much and stain the couch. Pac's watching cartoons from the old recliner across the room. The remote's in one of his hands, a cup of chocolate milk in the other.

  We watch cartoons in silence. After I finish slurping the milk from the bowl, I look over at Pac. "Where's mom?"

  "Grocery store," he answers, his eyes glued to the tv screen.

  I frown. "But it's, like, almost eight in the morning. Why would she go so early?"

  Pac shrugs. "I don't know."

  My eyebrows furrow as I get up and place my bowl in the sink. I go up to my room and change into clean clothes. I brush my teeth and then gather my hair into a messy bun. I scrutinize my reflection in the bathroom: long, dark-brown hair, ice-blue eyes, and high-cheekbones stare back at me.