Foolish Summer | ✔

01 • W A V E R L Y • 📖

I caught my mom pinching my dad's butt in the kitchen. Like, yay my parents still like each other, but I'd rather not see them grope each other like two hormonal teenagers.

"There are children present," I said, pointing at Bryce who was at the table, too engrossed in some YouTube video on his phone to even notice.

They separated, Dad grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge while Mom poked at some bacon in the frying pan with a fork.

It was a typical Tuesday morning for us. Everyone still in their pajamas as Mom and Dad prepared breakfast. The four of us sitting down to enjoy the meal and catch up before running off to do our own thing.

Since it was summer that meant Mom had weddings to plan (summer was her busiest season), Bryce had video games to play, Dad had summer classes to teach and I had a stack of books to read.

"I've read some of those books you're so obsessed with," Mom said, flipping bacon while Dad cracked eggs in a skillet. "Those teenagers do a lot more than what we were doing, I know that."

I grabbed plates from the cabinet to set the table. "Yeah, but those teenagers aren't my parents."

They shared a look, laughing.

"And, since we're on the topic of books," I started, pushing my glasses up my nose. My parents groaned like I just announced a homework assignment. Maybe they were more like teenagers than I thought.

"Didn't we just buy you a book?" Mom asked, adding more bacon to one pan while Dad scrambled eggs in another.

"Yes," I answered. "And now I need it signed."

"Alright, hand me a sharpie."

"Dad!" I fought back a laugh. "There's a book festival in Santa Monica this weekend and a bunch of my favorite authors will be there. Can I go?"

Mom looked at me, brows raised, disappearing beneath her two strand twists. "And how do you plan on getting there?"

"I am a licensed driver," I reminded them.

"You've had your license for two months," Dad said. "Besides, that's a three hour drive."

"Clearly, you've never driven in the car with her," Mom cut in. "She can probably cut that down to an hour and a half with that lead foot of hers."

"I don't speed."

Dad dumped eggs onto a large glass plate then set it in the middle of the table next to the plate of banana pancakes, followed by mom and her plate of bacon.

I'd momentarily forgotten about the book signing, distracted by the aroma of breakfast and the growling of my stomach.

"I'll drive you," Dad offered as he took his seat at the head of the table. "We'll make a day if it. Our last father-daughter day before your mom steals you away for the summer."

What did that mean? I looked up at mom for answers.

"Clay!" She swatted his shoulder, then plucked Bryce's phone from his hands in one swift move.

My little brother blinked, re-entering reality.

Dad winced, acting like that small hit actually hurt. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Forgot what? What are you talking about?"

Bryce, now alert and present in the real world, answered my question before Mom could. "You're planning weddings with mom while dad and I go visit Grandpa Ty." He began piling food onto his plate as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on my entire summer.