your best american girl ✓

15 | military-industrial complex

"Halle, wipe that off the counter this instant!" Kassie scolds, throwing a wet rag at her sister. It splats against her face, and she grimaces when she plucks it off. Dirty water pools in Halle's palms, and she wrinkles her nose.

"That is 2 drops of water! It will evaporate!" Halle argues, chucking the battered towel in the steel sink. Sure enough, as advertised, it really was just two measly water droplets that have collected on the marble counters. I didn't realize how serious she was about this organization thing until yesterday when she yelled at me for putting my fork back handle-side down.

Kass' nostrils flare as she storms to pick up the black checkered towel. "This is someone's house," she reminds her sister, arms flailing around, "you need to keep it clean! Respect their property!"

Halle groans, bringing her hands to cover her ears. "Shut up. You're gonna give me a headache. I literally lose brain cells every time I talk to you."

Kass snickers, begrudgingly taking it upon herself to wipe off said spillage. "That's unfortunate, because you don't have that many to begin with. And if you weren't so fucking lazy all the damn time, then I wouldn't—"

"Kass, it's okay," Faye interjects, stirring her coffee with a wooden stick. Gracefully, she takes a seat on the side of the kitchen table closest to the glass door revealing the vast garden. She sinks down further into the wooden bars on the back of her chair. "It's no big deal. Really."

The girl with the bright violet hair only tenses. "No it's not. She needs to learn how not to be a slob!"

"I forgot how annoying you are to live with," Halle counters, joining Faye near the kitchen table, "not everything needs to be spotless, ya know?"

"You're a literal nightmare," Kass hisses, wringing the residual liquid out of the rag. "You slapped me on the face last night. Twice."

"Well, that's because you always hog the blankets! I almost froze to death."

"You're so dramatic for no reason," Kass fires back, hanging the dry towel on the oven's handle. She cleans her own hands with a napkin. "I'm literally always cleaning up after you!"

"Don't pretend like you don't enjoy it!"

"Keep talking to me like that, and I will keep my kidney!"

"I'd rather die of kidney failure than spend another second talking to you!"

"Okay, okay," Lulu says, taking a pan off the burner, and sliding the steaming hot food onto a plate, "let's eat breakfast now. Stop fighting."

"Wait, when are you going through with the procedure?" I ask, genuinely curious. Tentatively, I take a seat beside Faye, who has scooted around to make space for me in front of the stove. Wafts of steam fog my glasses. Can't complain, though, because the breakfast smells appetizing, comforting, and nostalgic all at once. Reminds me of weekends when I was in elementary school, and my mom had time to make extravagant meals for my dad and I. Funny how that memory feels distant and close at the same time. Despite myself, I frown.

Stop thinking about her, I internally scold myself, you're only going to make yourself even more upset.

"As soon as Villanova can get me a fake ID," Halle answers, cutting a piece of a fried egg to eat with her mountain of rice.

"Are your parents home? Do they want some food?" Lulu asks Faye, handing her a pair of chopsticks and a glass of orange juice to pass to Halle.

Shaking her head, Faye shovels a spoonful of rice into her mouth, a hint of sadness laced in her gaze. Her parents both work as chief physicians at our local hospital, meaning they rarely are at home.