The Quirky Tale of April Hale (Quirky Series #1)

7. The Problem of Being a Good Girl is Everyone Thinks You're Boring

“So what did you do when you skipped the class? Which class was it?” Dad asked.

“It’s Math,” I said, suddenly saddened with the fact that I needed to study a little bit harder to catch up with it. “I fainted so I spent about forty minutes on the infirmary.”

“Yeah, Mom, about that,” Quentin cocked his head accusingly at our mother. “You didn’t put granola on her milk today, did you? It’s supposed to be her Wheat Day, you know.”

“I didn’t?” my mother paled in guilt as she asked herself that. It pained me to see my mom being judged for something she didn’t do, but I was afraid that if I mentioned Ryder Black as the origin of my blackout then Quentin would go all ape. He might say unintentional mean things to me,  but he never let any other people hurt me.

“Don’t worry about that, mom. Really,” I tried placating her. Despite her brash statements and daring way of life, my mother always paid attention to all the quirky details of my life. She knew I had a certain standard when it came to food and she followed my regimen religiously. She was sweet, although sometimes she could be almost as shallow as Quentin.

It didn’t help that she was the head cheerleader when she was in highschool, and my father the star quarterback. Their love story was almost as cliched as something out of  Nicholas Spark’s brainchild (2).

“I couldn’t believe I forgot about it!” my mother’s lower lip quivered. “I deserve to put fifty dollar on the Mean Jar!”

“No, no, you don’t need to!” I gritted my teeth.

“Yeah, Mom!” Quentin looked amused.

“I will put it! I will definitely put it!” my mom had officially gone insane, and that was when I realized that she and my dad had probably had their own share of alcoholic beverage prior of my arrival. The house smelled like wine and beer, anyway. 

Our heartwarming family celebration ended with my father holding my mom’s back from putting money inside the jar, and me shouting for her to stop thinking about it, and Quentin not backing me up at all. Needless to say, it turned out to be quite a workout for all of us, because when we were done, all of us didn't had any energy to do anything else.

My family was really, really, adorably dysfunctional, and why would I need to experience the outer world if every interaction with my family made me more happy than anything else?

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Thump.

Thump.

THUMP!

“Ugh?” my mouth felt absolutely dry as I was woken up from my slumber. It wasn’t a particularly good dream, but then again, I had been in the world where dragons reigned and rings ruled the land (3) and it had been the most vivid dream that I’d had in the last month. The constant thumping sound was really pissing me off.

Thump.

Thump.

“Weirdo!” I heard someone hissed.

I almost went back to sleep because my name wasn’t Weirdo, or anything starting with a W.

“Neighbor!” he kept hissing, this time louder.

Nope. Not Neighbor either. Whoever was thumping my window wasn’t looking for me.

THUMP!