Why Boys Are Idiots

Chapter Seventeen - Cyra's POV (Revised and edited)

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          Why Boys Are Idiots

          Chapter 17 (Cyra’s POV)

          If you thought that your brothers would be good boys for your mom - at least for Mother’s day - then you thought wrong.

          As soon as I opened my eyes for this dreaded Sunday, obnoxious shouting filled my about-to-be-deaf ears, making them ring. I covered my head with my Mickey Mouse pillow, trying unsuccessfully to block out the horrifying screeches that could only belong to my annoying, twin brothers.

          And don’t you dare laugh because you should think back; back to the time you liked Mickey Mouse. Come on, just admit it. You must have had Mickey Mouse once - and probably still are now. Besides, I got that pillow covering when I was about seven from my grandma.

          Groaning like always, I dragged myself out of my comfy bed to the bathroom. I decided to take a long, hot shower to wash away my annoyance that had gathered these past few weeks.

          By the time I got out of the shower, I had expected my persistent brothers to be done screaming about something that I’d bet I wouldn’t care about even if you gave me a hundred bucks. But instead, there they were, continuing on like they could never get tired of it. “Oh, please, just shut up,” I muttered to no one in particular.

          The only thing I could think about was how happy my mom would be when she ate my homemade brownies, baked to perfection. Even though I was probably the worst cook in the family, my neighbour Emily was there to save me.

          Every time I tried, it always came out all burnt and tasted disgusting. I swallowed my pride and headed out the door to find Emily, who happened to be the best baker I knew, other than my mom.

          The warmth of the sunlight washed over me the second I stepped outside. Lifting my hand, I knocked on the neighbours’ door, silently hoping that they weren’t still asleep and help me through this madness.

          The door swung open to reveal a happy, flushed face and a warm smile. “Hey, Cyra!” Emily greeted. “Um…why are you here so early?” She looked down at her watch, which probably read that it was only eight o'clock.

          A little embarrassed, I grinned nervously and explained my problem to her.

          “Oh.” Then she started laughing so hard she nearly fell to the floor. “Are you serious? You can’t even bake a couple of brownies?” You see, this was actually what I liked about her. She could just say what was on her mind - even though half the time she ended up making fun of me.

          Immediately, my smile slipped off my face. I muttered sarcastically, “Oh, thanks.”

          Finally, after flashing my famous pissed-off look more than enough times, I finally convinced her to just come over. My chest relaxed and I let out a breath of relief. Thank God that she was there to help me, otherwise I'm not even sure what could've happened to our kitchen.