Orange On The Bed ✓

001

Kristoffe St. George

"There are cookies left under the table! What have you done, Kristoffe!?" Mom exploded as she showed me the evidence of my childish doings.

I pucked my lips and knit my brows as if I was sorry, but mom refuses to accept my apology because she already had said that once I will do one more idiotic deeds I have, she'll never tolerate it and will go Shakespear with burning anger. "I-I was just trying to feed the fish?" I mouthed.

"Fish? Cookies? What on bloody earth came into your mind to feed the fish with cookies? Eh?"

I shrug, "Because cookies are edible?"

And mom groaned into frustration. "My goodness, Kristoffe. How old are you? Seven?"

"Basically, I was-"

"Nope, don't be too smart on me young man, I'm your mom." She said, waving her index finger for a gesture.

"Okay, fine. I won't be, but is there something else I can do to please you? Mom?" I spoke, giving the word mom a heavy emphasis so that I'll look like I'm a bit decent for a second.

"Wash the plates." She demanded fiercely.

And that's my mom. She's sharp-mouthed, she's workaholic, and her age was just doubled by mine; which was seventeen. Anyway, as I've said earlier, I have an insane level of sanity, yes, that's right. In fact, I'm considered a clown in our classroom. Not really the ugly one, but also yes, that I'm aware I have a beauty to brag.

Speaking of beauty, it doesn't matter how innocent you are or pretty you are, because here - in our town; having sex as young as possible is an achievement. They really dropped the attitude and just gone pushing their limits with the other persons. Making the word beauty invisible.

Why? Because first of all, if you had a reputation about having a good experience at fucking - regardless you lack beauty, anyone would be on their knees at the front of you. Even men. Yeah. No matter how hectic you're in a situation could be, but if you're a good fucker in every aspect of your life? The world will favor you.

This wasn't a big lie since I'm on a verge of falling behind my back right now, meaningfully - I am not that experienced. One of the main reasons for that is mom going to get married again after my father left us with someone new. And the man who's going to be at a wedding with mom has a son, a son with a narrow-headed brain.

I haven't met the boy yet, but basing on his father's call - knowing he was the person behind it was a fucking evidence. Doesn't he know that calling your parents by their names is a fucking disrespectful manner? I even doubt him having the school year as mine. Perhaps he had an odd elementary IQ.

But anyway, there were more important things to worry about than mentioning the new persons I'll live with. Like how to cook fried eggs, how to boil water, how to break eggshells, how to flip pancakes, and more. Don't laugh at me. It's just I was spoiled by mom in those things.

I headed into the kitchen room so I could begin the choir I was told, but a ring coming from some sort of device startled me. It was mom's phone on the sink. I don't know if I should check the caller out. But yeah, I think I should be.

On the flat screen, a username called Henry was pinned up. It keeps ringing until I have had enough. "Hello?" I called after accepting it.