Late Night Nutella

06: Nutella Pancakes

The next day was Sunday, one day before I was to venture into my new school. Early in the morning, or at least early by my standards, Cheyenne threw my door out of her way as if it was a grenade. The sound of it banging against the wall bolted me straight from my slumber, interrupting one of many haunting nightmares featuring Tasha. There stood Cheyenne, fully dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, with a smile caked onto her face.

"Connie, wake up!" She chirped, slightly giggling as she took in my disheveled appearance.

By glancing at the clock, I was informed that it was merely nine in the morning. To me, that was the crack of dawn with the sun struggling out of its slumber. Blinking the sleepiness out of my eyes, I whined, "It's only nine o'clock."

"Nine-oh-one," she cockily replied.

After rolling my eyes, I chucked one of my pillows at her face, the fuzzy pink heart missing her by about an inch. She swiftly sauntered over and ripped the covers from ontop of me. I was exposed to the frigid temperature produced by the air-conditioning. Shivering, I reached for the covers, only to watch as they were helplessly tossed to the carpet.

Grumpily, I hopped out of bed. "Fine. What's the point of waking up so early?"

She beamed, the expression lighting up her entire visage. "My friends invited us to the beach, silly!"

A feeling of dread filled my stomach. "At nine o'clock?"

Holding up a finger, she shook her head. "Ten o'clock. You said you'd hang out with us, remember?"

Sadly, I did. However, I never expected them to act on the offer, never mind this soon or this early in the day. "Yeah," I voiced, almost choking on the simple word. "But-"

"No buts!" She chirped. "Now, get dressed!"

With that, she marched out, a bounce in her step. After emitting a soft, stretched out sigh, I hopped from the comfortable mattress. Sleep still plagued my system, causing my eyes to droop and my muscles to lag. I did manage to freshen up and toss on an outfit; Cheyenne's heart tank with some simple jean shorts. My one piece bathing suit hid underneath.

By the time I headed downstairs, the clock above the stove read 9:30. Even after thirty minutes had elapsed, my grogginess had yet to leave me. So, I ambled over to the kitchen sink. It seemed breakfast had been made earlier this morning, probably before Brenda and Drake left for the shop. Dirty plates precariously stood atop one another, eagerly awaiting a cleansing.

Careful as to not disturb the dish-art, I turned the handle to stimulate the flow of water. It trickled slowly until I amped up the force, a steady stream roaring and splashing onto the plates. Some left over food scurried towards the drain as I gently placed my hand under the running water. Swiftly, I jerked back, biting my lip as a stinging sensation attacked my flesh. That was the hot water.

This time, I jerked the handle in the opposite direction, to the left. After the steam had disappeared, I hesitantly swiped my hand under the faucet. Frigid water greeted my flesh. Grinning and shutting my eyes, I gathered the liquid into my cupped palms and splashed it into my face. I jolted back at the sudden surge of cold, my eyes snapping alert. The water dripped off my flesh and into metal sink.

After ripping off a paper towel, removing the excess moisture from my face, and tossing the now soaked towel in the trash, I decided to wash the dishes. I turned the water back to the right, careful to make it warm and not flesh-singeing hot. Then, I grabbed a rag, drenched it in liquid soap, and began to scrub. Honestly, I had never done chores before. My mom was adamant about cleaning herself. Not even Dad could reach her cleanliness standards. However, I wished to help out Brenda and Drake. After all, it was the least I could do to thank them for welcoming me into their home on such short notice.