Find a Penny, Pick Her Up

Chapter 11

I woke to hard knocks against my bedroom door. I opened my eyes, groaning and flipping to my stomach. 

"Good morning, sunshine," dad's voice interrupted the sweet, sweet silence of the room. "Pancakes downstairs. Bacon. Eggs. Coffee."

"I hate coffee," I said into the pillow, voice muffled. He sat on the edge of my bed, the mattress dipping. 

"We also have orange juice," he said with a sigh. Dad loved coffee. "How was the party last night?   We were asleep by the time you got back."

I rolled over, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "Did Mom send you up here to ask?" 

He shook his head. "Nope. Dad's honor. Thought I'd get the inside scoop before she asks." 

I smiled a tired smile. What he really meant was, "Thought I'd ask you peacefully before mom brought out the knives." Okay, I was being dramatic. But I wouldn't put it past her. 

"It was good," I said, and I even knew I didn't sound convincing. 

He gave me a look, moving the dish towel draped over his left shoulder to the right. "Did you see Annie there?" 

I thought back to her aggressive gaze and the way she slapped the drink out of my hand, giving a slow nod. "Yeah." 

"How was it?" 

"Fine," I said, turning my head to the window and looking at my favorite tree. The morning sunshine danced over the leaves. I never told them specifics about Annie and I, just that we weren't friends anymore. They probably assumed it was too painful for me to talk about, in addition to the night of Eric's party - the last one, I mean. 

He seemed to get it, patting my leg and standing. "Come down before everything gets cold. You know how my pancakes are only good when they're warm."

"Your pancakes are good hot or cold, and you know it." 

"Oh, I know," he said, starting to shut the door. "Just wanted to hear you say it." 

I rolled my eyes, getting out of bed and crossing the room to the door. By the time I got downstairs, still in pjs and hair still frizzy, I began piling my plate. Two pancakes, because I was planning on getting two more, bacon and scrambled eggs. My parents adopted the breakfast tradition a few months back..most likely something Dr. Yao suggested. Something about food having the power to bring us together. 

"Morning sweetie," Mom said from the table, sipping her coffee. She looked immaculate, because of course she was on a Saturday morning with nowhere to go. I poured my frustration in syrup form over my plate, moving to the table. 

"Morning." 

"Dad said the party was good last night?" 

I nodded, cutting into the buttery pancake. I could feel her watching me, but I kept my eyes trained on my plate. 

"Did you see-?" a knock at the front door interrupted her, thank God, and she jumped up with perkiness

I took a sip of my orange juice, freshly squeezed by Dad. I kept eating, Dad squinting into his phone and reading some emails (he refused to accept the fact that his eyes were going on him). 

"One second," Mom walked back into the kitchen, looking more excited than from when she left the table. 

"What?" 

"It's for you." Jess. I woke up to texts from her but didn't have the energy to answer yet. 

I stood, bringing my plate with me to the door. Maybe I could offer some of my food as a piece offering for leaving her. To my defense, she left me too. And I was still a little mad.