Maroon Socks

04: IT'S A (SMALL) WORLD

004: it's a (small) world

DAY 2

"WAKE UP! WAKE up!" Arthur yells. He's clanging a metal spatula against a pot he's stolen from one of them, in the cupboards of the kitchen. "You asses! I hate you all as much as you hate mornings. Wake up! We're at Disney! Come on! Come on!"

"I'm the sort of person that is happy whenever Disney is near by. But this isn't whenever, and Arthur, your voice is worse than Dora's," Brooke complains, being the only one to be woken up by the human alarm.

"Hardy har har."

Brooke's still in her little curled up ball form, from the previous night. The only change that has come to that, is Calvin decided to use Brooke's legs as his pillow. Her shoes peek out from behind his head, and his legs have been brought up to his chest. Calvin's hair fall in front of his eyes. His lips form a little pout that can be only seen when up close (which makes Brooke realise how close she actually is). Brooke's internally shrieking when she processes the sight. She notes that sleeping arrangements need to be discussed about. Looking up, trying to fight back the image of him looking young while asleep, she asks, "Where did you get that banging metal pot from?"

"I don't know. Oh, it says: BROOKE H. Huh," Arthur mumbles, setting it back down. A groggy noise comes from the bed, and a tall boy stands up. Calvin yawns, waking up his tired eyes. Waving to the couple already awake, he roams around, slipping on his shoes, after changing into a pair of new socks.

Brooke rolls her eyes, grabbing the pot from Arthur. Walking to the stove, she rubs her eyes. "Do we even have anything to drink?" In Brooke's sleepy state, she grabs a plastic carton from the fridge, branded with her name in a permanent marker. She then fiddles in her handbag, wearing her Minnie Mouse ears. Heating up the stove, she starts pouring out her carton full of orange juice. "Ma chere Mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you this morning. And now we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair as the breakfast room proudly presents - your breakfast!"

"Okay, okay. You're warming up orange juice and quoting fucking Beauty and The Beast," Calvin rushes, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her to set her aside. He discards his arms and turns off the stove. "This is going to taste so fucking disgusting, I can smell it!"

"Oh, spray some freaking Febreeze over your face, will you?" Brooke whines, falling face first onto the bed. A muffled cry comes from somewhere near her, and Brooke screams. "Get an exorcist! There's a ghost!"

"Yeah. And it's waddling around, flailing its arms about, complaining about itself," Calvin throws, putting the pot of warm orange juice into the fridge. "And acting as if it's drunk. Get back in bed, for fuck's sake."

Arthur lifts the covers to find a brown haired girl trying to find some sleep. "It's an Irish named Fiona."

"What's up with you?" Calvin asks, warming up a kettle of water. He gets a mug out, smirking whilst doing so.

"Me? Nothing. . . ."

"Well, I don't think so. You're acting very. . . . Dakota. You're in a happy mood. That's new. I didn't know you knew how to talk in a totally un-bitchy way."

"Say another fucking word, Hallman, and I'm going to have Brooke beat you up."

"With my fracking pot of warm orange juice that is currently cooling in the fridge, you bastard!" Brooke threatens, pointing a warning finger at him. Calvin puts his hands up, as if he is affected. "Okay, I know you'll probably kill me, but my actions will hurt more!"