Looking Through the Cracks

Chapter 20: Words and Weapons

I have decided to give Alice a pet dog, so please ignore the sudden appearance of Calliope. When I finish and edit it, I'll add her to earlier chapters. 

Hope you enjoy! 

"I never realized how much it hurts to punch someone" Ivy complained as she flexed her bruised fist. She winced.

B's head appeared over the kitchen island, his hands wrapped around a plastic bag of frozen broccoli. "I mean you basically did the equivalent of stubbing your toe." He gave a dismissive shrug like that was explanation enough.

Ivy's hand froze in mid-grasp for the vegetables. Her eyebrow nearly disappeared in her hairline as she stared quizzically at B. "How is punching someone in the face the same as stubbing your toe?"

"Think about it: in both situations, you had a body part slam really hard into something. The only difference in this case is you willingly did it."

Flinching as the frozen bag soothed her knuckles, Ivy rapidly blinked at B with disbelief etched across her face.

"What?" B's eyes grew into wide saucers.

Ivy shook her head. "You have such a weird way of thinking about things."

"You say 'weird,' I say 'normal.' All just a matter of perspective." B gave Ivy a flirtatious wink before turning around to study the inside of the fridge. A large grin broke across his face when he pulled out a large Tupperware container with a plastic bag stacked on top of it. Like an adventurer returning with his spoils from a treasure hunt, B spread out his discovery of food on the counter. As B gathered up a plate, Ivy had the opportunity to study what Ivy could only assume were leftovers. Inside the clear baggy she could see the knotted mess of cooked spaghetti, and based on the color of the mixture Ivy surmised the Tupperware to be filled with spaghetti sauce and meatballs.

Having successfully wiggled out a collection of pasta onto his plate, B peeled back the plastic lid on the sauce. Although the food was at least a day old, Ivy still felt her mouth salivate at the smell of the homemade pasta. Ivy's eyes hungrily followed B's hand as he spooned a heaping of meatballs and pasta sauce on top. Licking the residual sauce off the spoon, B held it in his mouth as he carried his loaded plate to the microwave. The beep of each button rang in the kitchen.

"BRAXTON CHARLES WITHERBY YOU BETTER NOT BE RUINING YOUR APPETITE FOR DINNER!"

Like a genie springing from a bottle, Alice Witherby suddenly appeared in the kitchen, her arms crossed in stern disapproval. Caught in the act, B slapped his back across the microwave, his hands splayed out to cover the most possible. When B looked down, Alice's dog, Calliope, promptly sat at his feet, guarding her owner's prisoner. Alice strode up to B, her eyebrow raised in question as she stood before him "Do I hear you cooking something in that microwave right now?"

B nervously, but also with a playful air of mischief, dodged his mother's eye contact as he looked everywhere but at her. "Not at all," he said with poorly feigned innocence. If he hadn't sounded guilty enough, the microwave immediately rang with a resounding BEEP. With each reiteration, B's face flinched with confirmation of his lie.

Softly nudging B away from the microwave, Alice pulled open its door. A gasp of utter shock escaped her lips as she took in the mountain of spaghetti and meatballs piled onto the plate inside. When she turned to face B, Ivy could see the whites of Alice's eyes encasing her irises. Her mouth hung openly agape as she stared flabbergasted at B.

When she broke from her dumbfounded shock, Alice gave a quick flick of her wrist as she studied her watch. "Braxton, it's almost 4:30! I was just about to start cooking dinner now. By the time you eat all of that you're not going to have any room for dinner" she scolded.