Of June

10- ...Be Brave?

Vapours waft from the pan as I fold the eggs and continue stirring considerably. Cooking has never been something to pique my interest, but I've always known that everyone has to learn the skill some time or the other in their lives. This pretty much explains why I've been in the kitchen for the past half an hour, preparing breakfast consisting of omelette which Mrs.Young excellently taught me in the past week; thank the stars it didn't turn out to be as difficult as I imagined.

The morning after the whole video game pastime, I woke up as if I were a new organism waking up for the first time. Scrambling with my bedsheets, I almost tripped and fell over the mess of duvet, silently begging the lord for it to not be past noon- because my mind kept screaming that I'd surely broken the world record of maximum hours of sleep. Fortunately, it was only 8:45.

The first sight I recieved entering the kitchen after a quick shower was a note stuck on the freezer door. Tiny handwriting of Joan scribbled on it informed that she was at a friend's and that there were some waffles and pancakes in the refrigerator for breakfast.

Boy, did I crave something non-sugary at the moment.

"What's with the burning smell?"

I turn around and witness Adam slouching casually against the kitchen wall, a towel in his hands and short wet hairs spiking out in the air in every direction possible. He sniffs again now that I finally notice him, a crease appearing on his forehead.

"I think it's over-cooked."

"You know what?!" I say gleefully, facing him with a huge smile before adding in a dead voice, "I think no one asked."

"Wow, rude." He replies bluntly. "Anyways. Where's mom?"

"Read the note." Not bothering to face him, I start the plating of my glorious breakfast which, I begrudgingly admit is a bit overcooked. Just a teeny-weeny bit.

"Going to friends' means she won't be coming back for the next three hours or so, which also means. . ." I witness his face lightening up like a pine tree on a Christmas morning. In the split of a second he drags himself to the living room couch on the other side of the hall and flops down like a lifeless statue, face buried in the soft cushion.

"I can do absolutely nothing today and no one's gonna stop me." His voice comes out muffled via the cushion fabric. I shake my head and keep going on with my little task.

"You woke up like, one hour after I did and you're already tired?" I exclaim, rolling my eyes. "Come on!"

"I couldn't sleep, you know."

I immediately stop any sort of voluntary movement. The frying pan in front of me purrs out a satisfactory sound, reminding me of light rain softly pattering on rooftops while one is safely tucked inside the house.

I turn around. "Sorry."

"It's fine." He mumbles, raising his head and flashing a weak smile. A second later, the startling ring of doorbell begins echoing in the entire house.

"Would you get the door?"

"I said it, I'm tired."

"Adam." I snap as the bell rings once more and I quicken my pace. "I'm busy."

"And I don't wanna see people today." Once again his voice sounds weird through the cushion.

"Adam!" I yell, pointing the spatula at his face. "Open the door before they walk away."

"Argh. Okay!" He gets up from his lying position, directly standing up. Blinking twice, he shakes his head in order to strangle himself free from the brief episode of dizziness and begins darting through the hallway- well, atleast tries to. Three seconds later a loud thump attacks my ears, making me stop immediately.