It All Started With A Dare

Chapter Five

333, the lesser known brother of 666

The smell of freshly baked rolls engulfed me as I walked through the front door of my home. I hung my bag up on the hook and slipped my shoes off, placing them on the clear shelf above the coat rack.

The farther into the house I went, the better the smell got. I entered the kitchen where my mother had every burner on the stove going. I hugged my momma, who at the moment, stirred a pot of something clumpy, and kissed her on the cheek. "Hi, Momma."

Her eyes lit up at the sight of me. "Honey! We're having guests over. The Hunters are coming for dinner. Can you believe how exciting this is?"

"Yeah it's great," I feigned excitement.

"I left some clothes on the bed for you to wear. I want you to dress nicely. Your brother will be joining us later, he said he would be a little late. You two have to be on your best behavior."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "What do you mean dress nice?" I pouted, "Please don't tell me I have to wear a dress!"

She gave me a fake, sad smile and turned around, taking hold of my hands. "It's just a skirt and it's only for one dinner. " She held up a single finger mouthing the word 'one'. "Please, Lana, this means a lot to me."

I sighed, not wanting to ruin her excitement. "Okay, I'll wear the skirt, but uh," I tried to come up with a way to tell her about the sweatshirt. "I kind of have to wear this sweatshirt all day for a dare."

Her smile fell as she rubbed her forehead. "You and truth or dare, I swear."

My momma had always been very supportive of my dare streak. I had never broken a dare and she knew that, meaning she never asked me to break one. I gave her a pleading look. "Fine," she agreed, "tie the sweatshirt around your waist and try to make it cute, and put on some makeup."

I groaned but quickly hugged her and rushed upstairs to change. This had to be important to her if she asked me to wear makeup, she rarely asked me to do that.

A mid-sleeve grey top and a black skirt with a belt laid on my bed. I put on the outfit, tossing Caleb's sweatshirt on the bed. I combed through my hair, parting it to the side. Once that was all done I worked on the hard part: the sweatshirt.

After several attempts with it, I managed to tie it on my waist in which it appeared semi-decent. I, technically, was wearing the sweatshirt, therefore, I was not breaking the dare. I just hoped his mother wouldn't notice.

I took one final glance in the mirror, making sure I looked presentable. When I finally felt satisfied with how I looked, I headed downstairs, just in time. As soon as my feet hit the bottom step, the doorbell rang.

I must have been upstairs longer than I thought because the table now had all eight spots neatly set up.

It had become a custom to set up my sister's spot every time we had dinner. My brother demanded that no one sit in her seat. It wasn't as important to me as it was to him. I knew a seat wasn't going to bring her back.

My mother rushed over to the door, taking her apron off and hanging it on the hook. She fixed her hair and smoothed her clothes before swinging the door open, an elastic smile spread across her face. I followed closely behind her so that I would be in view when the door opened.

Three people were waiting at the door; the first: a woman close to Momma's age. Her black, curly hair and green eyes, enunciated the freckles that spread across her face. It was clear she was Caleb's mother, the resemblance uncanny. Next to her stood Caleb, dressed in a fitted shirt and jeans as usual. He still had his black sharpie mustache plastered under his nose. An adorable little girl, the same girl I had seen when they first moved in, clung to him, her face buried in his pant leg.