Ring~

  Ring~

  Ring~

  “Aria, honey, you need to get up now, or you’ll be late,” Mom calls out.

  I groan, grabbing my pillow and burying my head under it. Just five more minutes. I barely slept last night—I was up late studying, and then I had this strange dream. I can’t remember much, just flashes of a crow or maybe a raven. The feeling it left me with was weird, like I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

  Ring~

  Ring~

  Ring~

  “Ugh, fine.” I groan, rolling my eyes as I sit up and reach over to silence the annoying alarm clock on my study table. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I glance out the window by my bed.

  The sky is a perfect shade of blue, not a cloud in sight. I sit there for a moment, just taking it in. The air feels crisp and fresh. My eyes land on the glass vase on my table, filled with bright yellow sunflowers. They somehow seem to mirror the sky today. Smiling, I clasp my hands and say a quick prayer of gratitude.

  Mom really did a great job setting up my room—it feels so peaceful and put together.

  My room isn’t huge, but it’s cozy and functional. My bed is opposite the closet, near the rest room. If I face my closet, the layout is simple: to my left is a large window with blue curtains, my study table, books, alarm clock and sunflowers set against it. To the right is a full-length mirror. A little bit further from it is a door to the hallway.

  My room’s on the second floor, right next to my brother’s and my parents’. It’s nice knowing they’re close—it makes me feel safe.

  Every bedroom in our house has its own bathroom, which is super convenient. Life here has been pretty smooth and comfortable so far.

  **Knock, knock.**

  The sound of the door drew my attention. It’s Mom.

  “Aria, are you still in bed? The bus will be here in ten minutes! Your dad can’t take you to school today, so get up. Don’t be lazy now. Remember, today’s the last day of the school year—summer break starts tomorrow. You can sleep in all you want then.”

  From the smell wafting upstairs, I guessed Mom just came from the kitchen. Something delicious, no doubt. My stomach growled in response. Mom must’ve planned a special breakfast.

  “Yeah, Mom, I’m up. I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I called back.

  I dragged myself out of bed, made it, and got started on my morning routine. I got up, made my bed, closed my window, arranged my belongings on the study table, shifted the vase to the left, washed my face and brushed my teeth, put on my uniform, brushed and tidied up my hair in front of the mirror, and smiled. Lastly, I grabbed my black wristwatch on the drawer of my study table and wore it on my left hand. I opened my door and went straight to the kitchen, where mom was.

  The kitchen and our garden are my two favorite places in the house. Mom loves growing flowers in the garden, while Dad’s all about his herbs. It’s a peaceful mix of beauty and practicality. When I’m feeling emotional—like especially sad—I often head to the garden. Something about the smell of mint and being surrounded by nature always helps me relax.

  I looked around the dining table, my eyes practically sparkling like those animated characters in cartoons and animes when they see something amazing. The table was packed with beautifully prepared dishes that looked straight out of a cooking show.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I noticed Dad coming down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and sat down. I figured I should say something.

  "Good morning, Dad. How was your day yesterday?"

  "Good morning, Aria. It was fine, thank you."

  Hmm... Dad is as stoic as ever, always the man of few words. Sometimes he feels a little distant toward us, his kids. I know he cares, but I wish he'd show it more openly when we're around.

  He looked around the room.

  "Where’s your older brother? Can you call Kyle, please, Aria?"

  "Sure, Dad," I said with a small nod.

  I walked to the edge of the stairs and yelled at the top of my lungs, "Hey, Kyyyyyle! Get down here right now, you hard-headed teeennnager!"

  Grinning, I knew that would get him moving.

  Sure enough, I heard Kyle's door open, followed by his voice. "Aaaaariaaa! When I get downstairs, you’d better hide, or I’m gonna twist your ears, you brat!"

  I laughed to myself as I headed back to the kitchen, but I didn’t miss Mom’s disapproving look.

  "Aria, don’t talk to your brother like that," she said with her hands on her hips.

  I pouted in response, but before she could launch into a full lecture, Dad interrupted.

  "Good morning, honey bunny. How was your day yesterday?"

  I froze, cringing internally. Oh no, here we go. I forgot Dad completely transforms around Mom.

  Next thing I knew, Dad was hugging Mom, all lovey-dovey. Is this really my father? The same dad who barely smiles at us kids? It’s like he’s a whole different person with her. I mean, I know he’s mostly expressive only with Mom, but still, this feels like watching a rom-com in real life.

  Meanwhile, Mom seemed to be eating it up, enjoying every second. Honestly, they’re such a perfect match. Mom is an amazing chef—talented, beautiful, and caring—and Dad is a businessman.

  He’s strong and steady, though sometimes he’s hard to read and maybe a little too serious. Most days, I think he’s like a robot, and Mom is the magic button that turns him into this clingy, affectionate human.

  Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. Looking at them again, I guess Dad’s best traits are his devotion to Mom, his good looks, and his ability to be clingy with her.

  My grandmother Stacey, on Mom’s side, once told me their love story was like something straight out of a drama.

  Honestly? I don’t buy it. She said they were totally different people back in the day—not at all like the parents we know now.

  Apparently, Mom was a rebel, and Dad was some kind of emo kid. An emo kid? Seriously? That’s funny.

  I glanced at my wristwatch and sighed. Less than three minutes until the bus arrives. I turned my attention to the food. No time to savor Mom’s cooking properly, and I *definitely* need to avoid Kyle. No way am I letting him twist my ears today.

  My brother is the kind of guy who sticks to his word. If he says he’s going to be popular and smart, he’ll pull it off. And, honestly, his popularity at school is such a hassle for me. At six feet tall, with a charming smile and that *right-side dimple* girls can’t seem to resist, he’s always in the spotlight.

  Unfortunately for me, people constantly compare us. Worse, his fangirls think cozying up to me will get them closer to him. But hey, I know the real Kyle. He’s not perfect—far from it. He’s absolutely terrified of cockroaches, and horror movies make him scream and run like a kid. If his admirers ever saw him like that, I bet they’d change their mind.

  Anyway, though his the eldest, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of twisting my ears today.

  At 5’6”, I needed a little boost, so I grabbed a chair to reach the top cabinet where we keep the kitchen utensils and Tupperware. I quickly picked a couple of containers, washed my hands, and grabbed the serving spoons. I loaded up the food that caught my eye: eight Vietnamese rice paper rolls with peanut sauce (stuffed with veggies, rice, and shrimp), a generous portion of Munchi squid rings with butter sauce, and plenty of lettuce. For lunch, I added more food into two separate containers: one for rice and the other for beef and broccoli.

  “Honey, don’t you think that’s too much?” Mom asked, putting the chair I used back in its place and eyeing my food stash with a raised brow.

  I paused for a second before flashing her a smile. “Nope, Mom. This is just the right amount for a hungry 17-year-old me.”

  The truth is, though, I plan on sharing this with my friends at school. I love hearing them gush about how lucky I am to have a mom who makes such amazing and varied food every day.

  I love hearing my friends praise Mom’s cooking. Just as I was savoring the thought, I heard the bus beep and the thundering sound of Kyle’s footsteps upstairs.

  Crap! My backpack is in the living room by the couch, which means I’ll have to pass by the stairs—right in Kyle’s path.

  I need to hurry. I quickly stacked and grabbed the containers.

  “Bye, Mom and Dad! Love you!” I called out, barely glancing back as I rushed toward the door. Not enough time to properly say goodbye—I’ll make up for it later.

  “Be careful,” Dad called out in his usual calm voice, and I smiled to myself.

  “If you drop that food, you’ll clean it up yourself—and you’ll be late!” Mom’s voice carried a firm warning from the kitchen.

  I risked a glance back, only to see Kyle at the top of the stairs, just six steps from reaching me. Oh, great.

  “You dumb girl,” he growled, putting way too much emphasis on those words. Ugh, I *hate* when he calls me that.

  Kyle didn’t waste a second—he leapt, skipping the last few steps of the staircase in an attempt to grab me. Panic shot through me.

  “Sheet, oh sheet!” I muttered under my breath. Bracing myself for a possible impact, I held the containers securely, keeping them close to my body ensuring it wouldn't fall, and docked my head until his waist, or just enough to avoid his attempt, then a little spin to the left going to the right. My little move worked! I managed to dodge him completely and escaped toward the living room.

  “You freak!” I yelled back at him, flashing a smug grin before shoving the containers into my bag. Grabbing it, I bolted toward the front door.

  The bus door had just opened, and the driver was standing there, waiting.

  “Wait for me!” I shouted as I sprinted full speed toward the bus, ignoring Kyle’s frustrated yell behind me.