Jump [In Progress]

Chapter Two

Again, I am listening to music with the volume way too high, relaxing on my bed. This time, what I am playing on repeat is an indie playlist that Aston sent to me. It makes me feel like writing a song because this is the type of song I could totally write. Like I mentioned earlier, I'll listen to anything, but writing songs is a bit more complicated.

"Joni? Are you up there?" says my mom from the downstairs couch (she's probably checking her FaceBook).

"Yeah," I reply unenthusiastically.

"Could you make dinner, please? I'm not feeling too well."

"Umm... sure." Cooking is NOT my thing, trust me. I took a cooking class in middle school, which is how I disappointedly discovered that cooking was not one of my strong suits. I can make basic dishes, such as scrambled eggs or boxed Mac n Cheese, but that's basically it. My favorite thing to do in the kitchen is to make no-bake desserts. I invented a dessert of my own once, Joni's Crunchy Peanut Butter Balls. They're actually pretty good, to tell you the truth.

I stumble groggily downstairs because I've been in my room the whole day (as I do every Saturday. Food, you ask? Nah. I usually skip breakfast and lunch on Saturday, and eat a ton for dinner). As my eyes adjust to the horrible lighting in the kitchen area, I look around for something that I can make a meal of. I walk over to the cupboard, spotting a couple of bricks of ramen.

"Can I make ramen?" I ask my mom.

"I don't care, as long as it's food," she says.

"Ramen it is then," I reply positively.

"But you made ramen last time!" groans my thirteen-year-old brother, who has just walked in the room.

"Suck it up, Trey," I tell him.

"I don't like ramen," he whines.

"What a weirdo you are. When I was thirteen, ramen was the food all the cool kids brought in their lunches."

"Unlike you, I'm already cool, and I don't need any ramen to help me with that."

"Guys, be nice," says my mom.

"Yeah, Trey."

"Whatever," is Trey's final remark, and then he retreats to his room.

"Good riddance," I mumble, and resume working on dinner. Once the ramen is done, I chop some mushrooms and slide them into the pot. I saw on some cooking show once that if you put vegetables into ramen, there's a whole new name for it, some fancy Japanese thing. A warm, steamy aroma fills the kitchen. Zania, my cat, strides in, and sniffs the air, before wrinkling her nose and then ambling away.

"Dinner's ready!" I call.

"Just a sec," Trey replies. I can hear the distant sounds of a video game being played.

"Coming." My mom sleepily wanders into the kitchen.

"Ramen," I say, and make a grand gesture towards the delicious-smelling pot. After what seems like half an hour, Trey finally walks in, and breaks the silence with,

"I'm gonna make a PB&J."

"More ramen for us, then," I chortle.

After dinner is over and the ramen pot is empty, I open up the freezer.

"Fudgesicles, anyone?" I suggest.

"No, thanks," voices my mom.

"Yum," says Trey.

"Nope, sorry, you didn't eat my fantabulous cooking, so you don't get dessert," I announce, as I'm opening up a fudgesicle myself. "Mmm, yum. Too bad Trey doesn't get any." The wrapper crinkles annoyingly in my hand, but it's worth it, because of the deliciously creamy, chocolatey taste of the fudgesicle inside.

"Mom!" Trey screams.

"Honey, I'm right here, I heard everything. Joni has a point, you know."

"Come on! Why do I never get to make dinner!"

"Hmm... let's see... What about that time when you set the fire alarm off burning a pop-tart? Or when you put the wrong ingredient instead of sugar in the frosting you were helping Mom make? Oh, I know. Remember when you stashed a box of raw eggs under your bed for a year and thought they'd hatch?" I point out, smirking.

"Hey, that last one was when I was six!" he protests.

"Well, you were twelve for the other two," I mention.

"So what! You can't cook either!"

"At least I don't confuse flour with sugar." At this, Trey turns beet red, and storms out.

"Joni, that was not nice. Go to your room, too," commands my mom.

"But I'm sixteen!"

"Too bad." And so up I go, back to my hideout, to stream more music.