THROUGH THE HALF FROZEN WINDOW AND THE FALLING SNOW, I LOOK OUT TOWARD THE HILLSIDE AND HUG MYSELF AGAINST THE CHILL OF MY THOUGHTS BEFORE GLANCING AT THE KITCHEN. Mom is almost done with breakfast. She yells countless times at Diana who's in the hall with me, to come help set the table but she shrugs her shoulders each time and continues staring at her phone, waiting for Michael to answer her call. Gray and I got home at dawn. It was snowing pretty hard last night that it would have been suicide to drive. The moment I entered through the front door, Gray left to go grab a couple of things at his parlour before meeting me back here for breakfast.
A black car pulls up in our driveway and hope buoys inside my belly for second before I realize Gray would never drive this kind of salon car. Michael steps out of the car and I itch to tell my twin sister that the person she's waiting so badly to speak to on the phone is standing right out our door, pressing the door bell.
"Didi, do you mind getting the door?" I ask.
"Not on your life," she responds. "I'm waiting for Michael to call. I haven't heard from him since yesterday. I don't want him to die without me, you know."
"You're crazy. Please go and open the door, my chest hurts," I say as a lie when indeed, I feel my chest tingling. She grumbles and whines as she approaches the door. With a quick death glare at me, she grabs the doorknob and swings the door open. There's a rush of cool air. I tremble for a second as Michael waltz in and Didi slaps his shoulder with a childish squeal.
"You psychopath!" she slams the door as Michael chuckles.
"It's not my fault you're so gullible," he says in response.
"You can't prank me like that. It's not funny." she hits his arm again. "I could kill you right now."
"Don't you mean kiss?" he squints his eyes at her. I would ask what kind of prank he pulled on her but I find it best to not know.
Didi scoffs. "Have you ever gotten Sam Puckett's butter sock ever shoved in your ass?"
"Oh dear," I whisper.
"Is it weird that it turns me on a little bit?" Michael puts his arm around her and I clear my throat, looking away. When my gaze flickers back to them, they're involved in a not-so-subtle kissing spree.
"Oh Lord, this is very disturbing to watch," I add. "I'm. . .I'm uh gonna go to the. . .elsewhere now," I mutter and hurriedly run off to the kitchen.
"Gigi, where is your sister?" Mom asks.
"Michael just arrived so she's uh you know, shoving a butter sock down his butt." I giggle nervously as the woman raises up both eyebrows and towers over me so intimidatingly that I began to shrink.
"What did you say?" she asks.
"She and Michael are talking about butter socks and God?" I trembled.
"How does God and butter socks fit in the same conversation?"
"He is the creator of butter and. . .socks?"
"Nobody ever does what I say in this house!" she yells and I jump up slightly in fright. "What am I? Invisible?" she draws in a sharp breath and storms out of the kitchen.
"What in the world is happening today?" I whisper. I leave the kitchen and run up the stairs in search of my sister. She probably knows what is wrong with our mother. I knock on our door several times, signaling Diana and Michael to stop whatever unholy thing they are doing in our room.
"It's open!" Diana yells. I quickly open the door and run inside. She's sitting on the bed with Michael, playing chess. "Hey beautiful, what's up?" she looks at me briefly then back at the game she's clearly losing.
YOU ARE READING
His Paper Heart ✓
Humor~Highest Rank #60 in humor~ ~#3 in death and life~ Sixteen year old Genevieve Kaelin considers herself a loner, neither a misanthrope nor a deviant. She has simply lost her connection to people and can not get it back as long as she is still the hos...
