My Living Nightmare
Chapter 12
“And then Uncle Adrian made us all sing Samantha happy birthday around the table. Doesn’t sound bad, does it? Well, it gets worse. After we all sang we all had to give a short speech. And Grandpa Pete was there,” Jamie said, pulling his tie loose and opening the first two buttons of his collar.
“Grandpa Pete?” I asked, digging my scooper into the ice-cream.
“He’s not really our grandfather, he’s Samantha’s mom’s dad… Or something to that effect. Anyway, Grandpa Pete loves the public eye. He could ramble on about all the reasons Barney could secretly be a plot to turn all the children in the world against America for two hours! And no, I’m not exaggerating, it’s happened before,” Tory explained, cringing.
“After that Samantha had us all doing the waltz for some reason unbeknown to me, and I was the poor bastard that got the opportunity to dance with the roach herself,” Jamie continued, looking forlorn.
“Did she have you dance in the ballroom? I thought it was under construction from the last party she threw,” Tory said.
“Nah, in the garden, under the massive gazebo that you would have seen if you hadn’t ditched me at the party ten minutes after arriving.”
“Like I was going to stay at a girl’s sweet sixteen when the dress code was smart and formal and the theme was ‘Waltzing Matilda’.”
“How’d you get home anyway?”
“I hitched a ride with Matt.”
“Matt? You hitched a ride with my best friend and left me abandoned in a sea of toffee-nosed people?”
“Yip,” she said, chuckling at the gloomy look in his eyes.
Unexpectedly he sat up straight from lying on the table, and asked, “He didn’t try anything with you, did he?”
“Who? Matthew? No. Are you deranged or something?”
“No, just checking…” he trailed off, taking my scooper from me and dishing out a whole spoonful of ice-cream.
“Hey, that’s mine, give it back!” I whisper-yelled at him. You do not mess with my scooper; not if you want to continue breathing.
“You snooze, you lose,” he said smugly.
Oh, it’s on.
“What are you? Three? Give me back my-”
“Yes, I left it on the kitchen counter; I’ll just go and get it,” I heard Christine say as she was coming down the stairs.
“Er, never mind, you can have it,” I said, hastily sliding down the chair and slipping under the table. We had long since abandoned the island for more comfortable chairs.
Tory and Jamie sat stunned as their mother walked into the kitchen, catching them red-handed.
“Oh Jamie, you’re home. Have you met…?” she trailed off, eyeing the scoopers in her children’s hands. “Tory, didn’t I tell you to put the tub back into the fridge because dinner was in an hour?” she asked sternly. Then she turned to Jamie. “So you’re old enough to drive, but not old enough to know that you do not eat ice-cream before dinner? And where’s Alexandria? You’re supposed to be making her feel welcome!” she added unsympathetically.
“Actually she’s under the- ouch!” Jamie started to say before I knocked his foot onto the leg of his chair.
“What?” Christine asked.
“Tory kicked me!” he said, changing tack.
“Did no- Ow! Mom, Jamie poked me in the thigh!”
“I didn’t-!”
“Oh, be quiet you two!” Christine said, exasperated. She walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up a bunch of key, before saying, “Now put that ice-cream away,” and continuing out the room and back up the stairs.
I crawled out from under the table and sat back down into my chair.
“You’re unbelievable,” Tory breathed, impressed.
“I know,” I grinned back.
“Welcome to the family, Alex.”
“Grandpa Pete?” I asked, digging my scooper into the ice-cream.
“He’s not really our grandfather, he’s Samantha’s mom’s dad… Or something to that effect. Anyway, Grandpa Pete loves the public eye. He could ramble on about all the reasons Barney could secretly be a plot to turn all the children in the world against America for two hours! And no, I’m not exaggerating, it’s happened before,” Tory explained, cringing.
“After that Samantha had us all doing the waltz for some reason unbeknown to me, and I was the poor bastard that got the opportunity to dance with the roach herself,” Jamie continued, looking forlorn.
“Did she have you dance in the ballroom? I thought it was under construction from the last party she threw,” Tory said.
“Nah, in the garden, under the massive gazebo that you would have seen if you hadn’t ditched me at the party ten minutes after arriving.”
“Like I was going to stay at a girl’s sweet sixteen when the dress code was smart and formal and the theme was ‘Waltzing Matilda’.”
“How’d you get home anyway?”
“I hitched a ride with Matt.”
“Matt? You hitched a ride with my best friend and left me abandoned in a sea of toffee-nosed people?”
“Yip,” she said, chuckling at the gloomy look in his eyes.
Unexpectedly he sat up straight from lying on the table, and asked, “He didn’t try anything with you, did he?”
“Who? Matthew? No. Are you deranged or something?”
“No, just checking…” he trailed off, taking my scooper from me and dishing out a whole spoonful of ice-cream.
“Hey, that’s mine, give it back!” I whisper-yelled at him. You do not mess with my scooper; not if you want to continue breathing.
“You snooze, you lose,” he said smugly.
Oh, it’s on.
“What are you? Three? Give me back my-”
“Yes, I left it on the kitchen counter; I’ll just go and get it,” I heard Christine say as she was coming down the stairs.
“Er, never mind, you can have it,” I said, hastily sliding down the chair and slipping under the table. We had long since abandoned the island for more comfortable chairs.
Tory and Jamie sat stunned as their mother walked into the kitchen, catching them red-handed.
“Oh Jamie, you’re home. Have you met…?” she trailed off, eyeing the scoopers in her children’s hands. “Tory, didn’t I tell you to put the tub back into the fridge because dinner was in an hour?” she asked sternly. Then she turned to Jamie. “So you’re old enough to drive, but not old enough to know that you do not eat ice-cream before dinner? And where’s Alexandria? You’re supposed to be making her feel welcome!” she added unsympathetically.
“Actually she’s under the- ouch!” Jamie started to say before I knocked his foot onto the leg of his chair.
“What?” Christine asked.
“Tory kicked me!” he said, changing tack.
“Did no- Ow! Mom, Jamie poked me in the thigh!”
“I didn’t-!”
“Oh, be quiet you two!” Christine said, exasperated. She walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up a bunch of key, before saying, “Now put that ice-cream away,” and continuing out the room and back up the stairs.
I crawled out from under the table and sat back down into my chair.
“You’re unbelievable,” Tory breathed, impressed.
“I know,” I grinned back.
“Welcome to the family, Alex.”