Criminal for You |On Hold|

Chapter 1: Oops

Summer's POV

Why is the kitchen on fire!?

I rush out of bed as soon as I can smell the smoke. I don't have to think twice about it - this has already happened to me a ridiculous number of times. I repeat the drill I usually follow.

1. Jolt up in bed because of the smell. Once you realize it's smoke, it's show-time.

2. Slam open the door and rush down the stairs, taking two steps at a time in your pajamas.

3. Turn off the stove and stare at the smoke coming from whatever dad was cooking.

4. Sigh.

5. Call dad, and say, "Dad, the cooking caught fire.. again."

My dad lumbers into the kitchen, adjusting his lopsided tie. "Oh, great," he says quietly. I decide to be silent. I know what he's thinking - that he's become old, and that he can't trust himself anymore. He feels like something always goes wrong nowadays, things that never happened before.

I mean... to be honest... he usually heats canned food on the stove, especially things like tinned mutton, and twice he left it on the stove for so long that the can exploded. There was mutton all over the ceiling, floor, fridge.. you name it.

I hate the smell and taste of mutton but I helped him out anyway, because it was just that bad. The main smell stayed for like four days, but lingered faintly on everything for about two weeks.

He stopped heating cans on the stove though (which I strongly appreciate). I mean, he just wanted it to be easier to open up the can, but I don't think it's worth the risk of having to go through all that for a third time.

Now my dad pours some water into the pot and I stand by as the food crackles with heat. "Is it okay if you get breakfast on your way to school, Summer? I don't know if this..," he gestured to the pot, "...is edible anymore."

Definitely not edible.

"It's fine, dad." I nod and yawn. "I'm gonna go get ready for school." It's kinda surprising for me to see my dad almost ready for work when I've just woken up. Usually, we get ready at the same time and pace.

"Yeah.. you really should," he responds, wincing as he looks at his watch. "It's 7.47am."

"WHAT!?" I run up the stairs, panicking. Geez, I woke up so late!! I have to be at school by 8.15am!

I glare at the books scattered on my desk as I shoot into my bedroom. "Stupid books!" They're the reason I stayed up so late, but I only half regret it. There's always a special place in my heart for animals and books.

I'm basically doing everything at five times my normal speed. I rush through my morning routine at a scary pace and pretty much fly into my clothes. By the time I'm taking care of my hair - which is the longest part - it's 8.01am.

I'm going to die. I am actually going to die.

I switch off my hairdryer and decide that a little moisture is okay, but in order to let it dry I was going to have to leave it open. I stare at my hair in the mirror - dark, straight, long, and unbraided - deciding that it'll have to do.

Part two of the flash chronicles would be me scurrying for a ride. I'd usually walk but today is REALLY not a good day to walk.

After I manage to slam the door shut and turn the key in the lock, I immediately try to hail a taxi. Even rushing to the bus stop would take too much precious time at this point. I glance at my watch, a moment which should be a horror movie on its own. It's 8.06am.