A Recipe for Disaster (Clash Of Cliches Book 2)

Chapter 2- A Shituation

Chapter Two- A Shituation.

Janessa's Point of View.

When I got back home, it took me five minutes to open the front door. My stomach was churning with nervousness, which isn't normal for me. But on the Uber ride home, a discomforting thought slipped in my mind and took hold.

What if someone in my family watched the game?

On God, I did not need these problems right before prom. Bad enough that my potential prom date was pissed at me, Jermaine would probably be tasked with chaperoning me everywhere all summer if anyone in my family found out that I had kissed Kameron Wallace.

I shifted from one foot to the other, my cheeks heating up unreasonably as I tried not to think of the kiss. There were more important things to focus on, such as- were Kameron and Deshaun still friends? And if they were, how prepared was I for the lecture that was sure to come my way when I walked into the house?

All I knew was that I hadn't seen Kameron since I was 13, a few months after his only brother died and his parents divorced. I remembered Kameron coming over to say bye to us, the same day his mother and him moved to Florida, his face pinched with sadness over leaving his father alone in Sao Marino. "He's already depressed, if we leave- if I leave- I don't know what's gonna happen to him," I overheard him say to a subdued Deshaun outside on our back porch. "I don't wanna go, but mom doesn't want me to stay here."

And apart from catching glimpses of him on TV, that was the last I had ever seen of him. He went on to become an Olympic medal winning swimmer, managed by his mother, and from what I could discern, him and Deshaun fell out of touch.

I hope.

Because, if somehow and somewhere Deshaun and Kameron were still friends, I was gonna be in deep trouble.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, I walked into the house, heading straight for the kitchen. Thanks to Leroy squishing my hotdog, my stomach was growling.

I bet the only snack we have are vegan organic chips. Thanks, Obama.

Mom was in the kitchen, a glass of wine in one hand, a bag of seaweed snacks (!) in the other. She beamed when she saw me.

"Hey, honey, how was the game?" she asked brightly, as cold fingers of dread slowly wrapped around my heart. Mom was a sports commentator with her own show on ESPN. She usually only covered track and field, football and basketball, but what if...?

Swallowing hard, I forced a smile on my face and tried to play it cool. "It was great!" I replied brightly, hoping she wouldn't ask who won, because I had been so caught up in my racing thoughts that I couldn't remember. "Good seats, great company."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Mom popped a seaweed snack in her mouth. "I was thinking about catching the replay to see if I should talk about it on Monday's show, but it'll be old news by then." I heaved an audible sigh of relief as mom continued. "My viewers hate baseball, anyway."

Blessings.

Some of the tension drained out of my body as I sagged against the counter, asking, "Where's everyone else at?"

"The boys and your dad are downstairs. Watching UFC." Mom chewed slowly, a look of disgust slowly flitting across her face. She held out the seaweed snack bag at arm's length and stared at it, her mouth twisting. I couldn't stop the giggles. It's what she deserves. "This is revolting! Who let me buy this garbage?"

Pointedly, I said, "You switched out all of our snacks to this organic vegan crap last week. Remember? You said you wanted us to eat clean?"

Yeah, I was still salty. I didn't usually eat unhealthily, but I still wanted my sour cream Pringles from time to time.