The Mustache Crew

Chapter 2: Nooo!

SATURDAY, MARCH 17th

St. Patrick's Day.

My least favorite day of the year.

"Iris! Iris!" Mom was calling. Sometimes I really hated my name, because of why I was named that. They didn't pick an Irish name, they had to pick something that would get them as close to Irish relations as possible. Iris. Take out the H and you have my name. Thanks parents.

Mom comes in wearing a plain black tee-shirt with a clover on the front, followed by fake jewel-encrusted jeans. This was good, for her sense of style, that is. Usually she wears things like old sweaters and ripped jeans. My mom can be really weird sometimes...

"Mom, what do you need?" I asked her, because I was really busy re-reading one of my favorite books, and I was getting to the good part! Interruptions make me frustrated sometimes.

"Oh, I was just making sure you knew that dinner is at six o' clock sharp, and if you're not there on the holiday you're ancestors created, then I'm guessing you don't care about Ireland or any of the things it holds. Got it?"

Jeez, my mom can be over dramatic sometimes. Glad that's one trait I didn't get from her! Did I? I really can't tell anymore since I got into my teenage years.

"I got it! I promise I'll be there at six." I replied exasperated.

"Good." She turned to walk out my door, but stopped in her tracks. " remember to wear your medal too, dear."

I still remembered when I got that medal. I was five, and it was the first St. Patrick's Day I remembered.

"Now, Iris, you have to wear this" Mom had told me.

"But why?" I asked in my little girl voice.

Mom looked at me, and instead of being boring and saying it was tradition, she had said, "It will keep all the scary Patty monsters away . They only come out on St. Patrick's Day, and that's why you have to wear this."

I believed that story until I was about nine. Every year on the day before St. Patrick's Day I would stay up until midnight, and then throw on the medal, in case the monsters came and tried to get me while I was asleep.

The medal it very simple. It has our clan's pattern on the front, and the Irish flag on the back. It was made of metal though, so you can't see any of the colors. I don't think any other family wears these medals, but Mom had them specially made so that we would "always have our ancestors close to our hearts".

I don't wear it. Usually it just hangs off the mirror I have on the far side of my green (I know) room next to the door. Mom makes me keep it there, otherwise it would be shoved inside a drawer. I really don't like it when she goes overboard on things.

I picked up my book and started to read where I left off. I felt the little television flicker to life in my head as I absorbed the words someone had written on these pages. I felt as though I was standing right there, right next to the characters as they spoke my favorite lines to each other. I read this part over and over until I had it memorized. This was the moment in a book where you wish you could slow down time and make the characters stay like this forever, before something bad happens and you have to go cry in a corner.

I glanced at the digital clock on my bedside table. It read five-thirty. I still had time to read. When I looked back down at my book, a wonderful scent suddenly tickled my nose. It was as though a cloud were reaching down to me, picking me up, and holding me up so I could taste the sweet sunlight that pours in with a golden touch.

I'm pretty sure that the glowing scent was Mom's cookies. Every year on St. Patrick's day she would make these soft sugar cookies that melted in your mouth when you bit into them. It's like the cookie is your life, and nothing else matters anymore.

Finally I was able to finish the chapter in my book. The ending is so sad, even though I knew it was coming. I looked at my clock again.

Not fair!

It was five fifty-nine.

Quickly I ran over to my mirror and swiped the medal off of it, but a little TOO quickly. The mirror can crashing down and shattered at my feet. There goes seven years of my life. Remembering the dinner, I clomped down the stairs in a rush, putting the medal around my neck as I went.

Mom was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. "Would you like to explain to me what that crash was?"

"Umm... Well... I-"

"You better answer me this instant or no cookie." She folded her arms, waiting for me to respond.

I decided that for my cookie's sake that I should tell the truth. "My mirror fell off my wall and broke. I tried to catch it. But it was falling too fast. I managed to save my medal though!"

Okay, maybe I skipped a few details...