The Chronicles of Izaak Summers

Serendipity

New chapter!

I hate Scrabble with a passion.

"Indie, it's your turn." Mom nudges me.

"I know!" I bark back at her, trying to focus. Family game night on Saturday every two weeks has been an undying tradition ever since Mom had discovered that sitcom families do this kind of crap. They sit all around in the living room center table playing some game no one wants to play. And ours is Scrabble. Did I mention that I hate Scrabble? With a passion?

"Just go," Izaak moans and throws his head back. Ha! Sucks for him. His excuse on why he couldn't play didn't pass by my mom. So now, he's groaning and complaining like my dad. See, I've learned that the best way to avoid things like this, is to let it go by as fast as possible so Mom can realize it's a complete waste of time. They, on the other hand, keep whining.

"Indie, you have three possible words you can make on the board. Make one," Dad looks over to my letters. I give him a warning look before continuing with my thoughts.

"If I put down the right word, I can win this game. This stupid, stupid game," I mumble.

"That's the competitive spirit!" Mom claps enthusiastically. We all look up at her simultaneously giving the woman a grim look of annoyance.

"India, I have places to be." Izaak says.

"Aw, that's a cute pet name." Mom coos. Izaak and I exchange a weird look. Cute?

Not straying from my focus, I say, "No mom, it really isn't."

"And where are you exactly going at ten p.m.? We're already straying past your usual bedtime." I shake my head at this naive, naive woman I call my mother.

"I meant places like my bed to sleep in." Izaak suggests causing Mom's satisfaction.

"I got it! Elastic is my final word." I put down the tiles, finally content. Then Izaak comes out of nowhere and puts down his tiles. "Elasticity? Wait, what?! You can't do that. Mom, he can't do that."

"Look at that, I win again." Izaak shrugs. I want to punch his face. Break his nose. Destroy him. I hate Scrabble.

"Now that that's over, we have something to tell you two." Dad clears his throat. The only light on in the house is the one above us, which is pretty creepy. And it's one of those dull lights. Dad looks like he's about to kill one of us rather than make an announcement. "We're going up to the cabins for the weekend."

Shit no. No, no, no, NO! "No!" I cry out. When my parents give me the look, I add, "Way...no way! That's so exciting!"

"The cabins? What's the cabins?" Izaak asks. Mom's face brightens at the question. She loves explaining what the freakin' cabins are.

"We do this annual thing where we go up to the country side of California and just relax there for a weekend or so. It's like a mini vacation. And this year, I'm so ecstatic to say that it's going to be a family reunion!" She jumps up.

"No way," I say. Where is the nearest wall to hit my head against? Izaak gives me a questioning look. But all I'm thinking about is being run over by a one hundred wheeler truck. "It's not like it's a family reunion every year..." I mutter sarcastically.

"The whole family will be there!" Dad says. He's just excited because the cabins are an excuse for him to get wasted every night and not have to worry about work the next day. "It's going to be fun."

"Last year, Mom, you swore to never go back. You thought that Emily and Amy's boob jobs were ridiculous and you didn't want any part of it."

"Boob jobs?" Izaak's ears perk up.