Jema

4. Last to Know

10:12 a.m.

Waking up late after a bad day is my greatest anesthetic. Usually, I'm playing mother to half the kids in the house at about 8:00, but today it seems as though I get a break. No screaming children, no arguing pre-teens--- always a good start to a Friday.

My phone flashes the little blue laser over and over. I smile. Waking up with text messages makes this morning even better.

Trin: GuEsS WhAt??!!

Jem: Please dont type like that

Trin: I got an emailllllll

Jem: From...?

Trin: Cherry Creek!! I'm going to cheer Jema im so happt gossshh

Trin: **happy

Jem: That's awesome! congrats. Kick ass. When?

Trin: I'm taking the summer session 4 sure. No wy I can fit anything into my schedule til then

Jem: Wow that's still insane. Told you you were the best one

Trin: Eh, dont flatter me ;P. I gtg. Told u news before I told mom <3 kisses babe ;D

Jem: Ew, I don't want ur girly shit on me ;O. Love you.

Trinlee seems to be going places in her life. Cheerleading recognition at big schools, having the boyfriend of her dreams. And look at me! Making out with my teacher, failing classes... I'm doing so well.

The smell of pancakes hits my nose as soon as the bedroom door opens. Dennis, fashioning a ridiculous Mickey Mouse apron, bangs on Corey's bedroom door repeatedly, with a bowl of something I'm assuming is pancake batter. So, he's playing mom today. Fine with me.

Everyone in the house knows Corey pops up at seven in the morning, pounding away at the buttons on his Xbox controller, trash talking some kid in New York or somewhere. Getting him out of his room is usually a problem that can only be solved by some kind of meaty smell seeping through the bottom of his door and into those nostrils.

'Xbox?' you say? 'You're poor!' Well, yeah. It was a present from our biological sperm-contributor two Christmases ago. It was meant for all of us, but I refuse to participate in anything that has to do with that meager excuse of a person, and Dennis cares too much about breasts to play video games. Corey had no strife with the piece of junk, and delightedly accepted it with great tidings.

Both Dennis and I show a hint of surprise when Corey finally peeks his head out of the room to sniff at the air, such as a raggedy, out-of-mind dog would. "Where's mom?"

"Out. Rowe probably has an ear infection," Dennis sighs. "She took Kelley and Anna, too."

"Praise the Lord," I can't help but mutter. No wonder it's unbelievably quiet. "Dennis, are you- gasp!- cooking?"

Dennis turns to me quickly, with a wry twist of his expression. "Kiersten likes guys who cook. I'm practicing." Holding back a laugh, I turn into my room to glide my feet into a pair of slippers. The extremes my little brother will go to in order to impress a girl are nothing short of hilarious. I'm pretty sure he could get them by just existing, but he insists on going above and beyond.

"The cop's daughter? No way," Corey laughs. "What did you even make?" His question irks at Dennis, causing him to roll his big, hazel eyes into the back of his head.