Unsung

Chapter Seven

"I'm here! I'm here!" I shouted as I burst through the front door.

I was twenty minutes late due to my impromptu conversation with McKayla. And that was even after running most of the way home, something my feet were going to punish me for over the next few days. They just weren't used to so much activity.

I dropped my bag near the couch and continued on through the living room and into our bright kitchen. Seeing that everyone was already seated and eating, I rushed over and slipped into one of the empty chairs.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, out of breath.

"I think you know what your punishment is," my dad said, his voice deep and serious.

I opened my mouth to apologize again, but he cut me off.

"You know we can't guarantee that there will be any food left if you're late," he continued. Then he pointed at my little brother. "Not if he has anything to do about it."

I looked over at Mateus, who was just about done clearing the food off his plate. He gave me a large grin, letting what appeared to be smashed lasagna noodles and meat sauce hang from his mouth as he did so.

How appetizing.

"Just as long as he left some—" I started, and looked around the table for what I longed for. As I spotted the lone roll sitting in its basket, Mateus reached over and snatched it up. "Hey! That's my roll! You know it's my favorite part of the meal!"

"You snooze, you lose, sister dear," he said and then proceeded to shove the whole thing in his mouth.

Mine fell open in disbelief.

For someone who was supposed to be advanced for his age, he sure could be a bratty little kid sometimes.

He isn't even enjoying it, eating it that fast, I noted glumly. He should've been savoring the flaky goodness, the warm bread practically melting in his mouth as a river of butter dripped down his chin...

I began to drool just thinking about it and became more and more angry at my brother for taking it away from me. He could eat rolls all the time.

These ones were special.

Mom only made the gluten-free rolls once or twice a month on account of the fact that she made them from scratch and the ingredients took forever to put together. And hers were far and away better than the ones you could buy at the store.

And since I had to eat gluten-free because I had Celiac Disease, I couldn't binge on the Pillsbury rolls the rest of my family had with impunity. This non-wheat version my mom made was like, birthday cake good.

And Mateus had just eaten the last of them.

"I'm going to kill—" I snarled at him.

"There are more on the counter," my mom chimed in before I could finish my death threat.

"No one," I finished, smiling. "I'm going to kill no one, because I'll be too busy stuffing my face with the rest of those rolls."

"Nice save," my dad said with a smile.

"I try," I answered, a smile plastered on my face as I popped up and retrieved another half dozen rolls and brought them back to the table. Before I'd even touched the lasagna on my plate, I slathered butter on one of the rolls and took a big bite.

Sighing contently, I fell back into my chair, closing my eyes and enjoying the food explosion that was going on in my mouth.

"And all is right with the world," I said.