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Why Boys Are Idiots
Chapter 11 (Cyra’s POV)
Come on! Someone pick up! I mentally begged.
“Please leave a message after the beep. Beep.” I nearly threw my cellphone out the window out of frustration. Why isn’t Addie picking up?! I had already called both Addie and Zaira for what felt like twenty times.
I didn’t want to be trapped in this...disaster-prone place with my brothers. Those annoying, idiotic, stupid, irresponsible, and trouble-making twins. If they weren't related to me, I would punch them until they were senseless - or until they got it through their peanut-sized brains that I couldn't even stand being in the same room with them. But then again...I had already punched Paul hard enough.
The thought of his fractured arm didn't do anything to improve my mood. Groaning, I instead thought about how I had to eat breakfast with my brothers. Just thoughts about them shoving food in their mouths made me shudder - and not the good kind either.
I kept my phone in the palm of my hand just in case the girls decided to call me back as I trudged unwillingly towards the living room.
Somehow, the walk seemed extra short today, and I got to my doom in no time.
Without glancing around, I reached up into the cupboard and grabbed my Cheerios. But as I turned around to take the milk out of the fridge, I felt how light the box really was. Frowning slightly, I shook the paper box beside my ears and confirmed my suspicions.
Only one reason popped into my mind, and I scowled murderously. Mark and Paul.
I stomped towards the couch where the two pigs were camped out comfortably on and got in their faces. From where I was standing, I could see the confused expressions on both of their faces as I blocked the TV screen from them.
“Move!” the twins ordered at the same time and tried to poke their heads around my legs.
Huffing lightly, I swiped the remote that was lying on the little counter and pressed 'OFF'.
“HEY!” Mark exclaimed while unsuccessfully scrambling up to get the remote that was firmly grasped in my hand. While trying to run over to me, he knocked the bowl of cereal in his hands over and spilled milk all over Paul.
"Watch it!" The older brother shoved Mark forcefully, with his good arm, of course, which only caused him to spill his own bowl.
Unfortunately, before I had time to make them stop behaving like animals, my short mother stepped in.
I opened my mouth to explain, but not before a horrible slushing noise echoed in the small room. My mother pushed her glasses up farther to get a better look, and I cringed at what she saw. Her pink sock was coated with colourful milk.