Chapter 8

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I woke up on Sunday morning with curly, auburn hair spread across my face. Penelope. I pushed her hair to the side and crawled out of bed, careful not to wake her.

When I arrived in my dining room, a plate of pancakes was spread out with a pitcher of orange juice. From across the room, Ana waltzed around in a flour covered apron.

"Try one!" She insisted.

"Ana! Tell me your secrets, you little chef," I praised, continuing to shove the mouth-watering pancakes in my mouth.

Ana's bright green eyes followed my mouth with every bite. Her eyes twinkled in the light, revealing how proud she was of her accomplishment.

When she poured more dough on the skillet, a chunk of her chocolate brown hair fell near the bowl of batter. "Ana, don't move!" I warned. I strolled over to her and pulled her elbow-length hair into a messy bun. When I was finished, I leaned down and kissed the top of her head, "Alright, you're good to go."

Moments later, Penelope awoke and joined us in eating pancakes. She had her long hair pulled back out of her face, revealing her lazy green orbs. I've always admired Penelope, she was so beautiful and she didn't even have to try.

Mrs. Ricorda and my mom joined us in the dining room for breakfast a half hour later. Everyone praised Ana for her delicious pancakes, leaving her with pink cheeks.

When Mrs. Ricorda announced that she and Penelope were going to leave, I helped Penelope pack up her things. Before she left my room, she stood frozen under the doorway.

"Pen, what's wrong?"

She turned around, her harsh green eyes staring right through me, ignoring my presence. Before I could repeat my question, Penelope's harsh stare melted as she began to cry.

I really did feel bad for Penelope. At least when my mom left, I had Ana. Penelope's an only child, so for the most part, she was always alone. I could totally relate to why she would act out, trying to get her mother's attention.

I hugged her until Mrs. Ricorda called up the stairs, announcing their departure. She recollected herself, wiping away the silent tears. I gripped her shoulders and reassured her that I would always be there for her if she needed someone to talk to. Then, I walked her to the door.

As soon as the Ricorda's left, my mother told me to clean the house, and then locked herself in her office. The thing was, my mom really wanted to get a maid. But I talked her out of it, insisting it would make us seem snobby. As a punishment for my decision, she made me clean the house. She always said, "I'm not going to clean it, so either you or a maid will."

Needless to say, I ended up taking on the responsibility. Fortunately, there was rarely a mess. Ana even cleaned the kitchen off after she made breakfast.

So, usually, I never actually had to clean anything. Sometimes, I would catch my dad vacuuming, sweeping, or dusting in his free time. My mom did our laundry and the dishes, so that didn't really leave any for me.

But that didn't stop my mom from complaining.

I did my homework and sat around my house until three in the afternoon. When I couldn't think of anything else to do, I decided to take Joey up on his offer.

I brushed through my blonde hair, threw on an outfit, and slipped my feet into a pair of white sandals. After deciding I looked fine, I walked across the street to Joey's house.

"Good afternoon, Emily. How are you today?" Joey's mom greeted me.

"I'm doing alright. How about you, Lauren?" I inquired, engaging in small talk.

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