The Always More (Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Intro

Intro
Irene

Trying to hold my baby cousin Lily is like trying to hold a greased pig wearing a banana peel. It's pretty much impossible.

I sweep Lily up and perch her on my hip on request from my Aunt Rane, who doesn't want her daughter toddling around the pool before everyone else gets in.

I'm struggling with keeping the little one-year-old occupied so she doesn't fall and hit the concrete porch. I bounce up and down as I carry her, and let her look at flowers and doorknobs when she points at them.

Family potlucks are always a bit challenging for me. First, Mom and I cook up at least four dishes of vegetables that no one ever eats, and then we have to dig through the cabinets to find stacks of styrofoam plates that I swear used to dominate our kitchen. Then there is the little problem of actually facing family.

"Look out ahead!" Screams a shrill voice, and I'm almost too late in my jumping out of the way. In a flash of color, Quinn screeches through the path the adults make for him on a rainbow tricycle about three sizes too small for him.

My family is dominated by children. The fact that I only have one sibling is a novelty to other members of the family. Everyone within a fifty mile radius who are related to us in some way shape or form is here today. Well, except cousin Caz, because she has a cold.

Lily shrieks with delight, as I step around our cactus garden towards the collapse of rainbow metal. She throws both her arms out towards the tricycle crash.

"Are you alright, Quinn?" I ask, getting down on one knee and setting Lily on the raised one.

"Oww," he groans. "My head."

"Alright, get up," I tell him, helping him up. No one can pull little eight year old Quinn out of problems faster than he can burrow into them. If trouble was a trash can, he would be a racoon. He stumbles to his feet, as two adults rush over to assist Quinn in his recovery.

On the patio, a crackling sizzle bubbles through the air moments before the grill sends flames three feet into the air. My unsuspecting brother jumps back from it, holding up his hands in surrender. Dad was supposed to fix that two weeks ago.

"Dad?" He calls nervously.

My dad is by the back door, balancing a jar of relish and a plate of raw hotdogs. I take the jar of relish so he can help Tony with the grill.

"Irene!" Calls Mom. She's standing tediously on the edge of the pool, dripping in her bathing suit. I look over, bouncing Lily on my hip. That many people should not be able to fit into a pool that size. "Could you bring out the Jell-O?" She calls. I give her a thumbs up with my free hand, and somehow wrestle loose the stuck handle on the screen door.

When the door slams shut behind me, the splashing and shouting is muffled out. The house inside is quiet. Hallelujah.

I set Lily in the middle of the kitchen floor so I can see her at all times. Mom swept and mopped the floors today, so it should be clean. She squeals, and I give her a spatula to play with while I look for the Jell-O. I hate Jell-O. Food shouldn't jiggle, in my opinion.

I pick up a cup from the counter, and take a long drink. Before the water makes it down my throat, it becomes less watery and more sticky. Water shouldn't be sticky. I swallow, and look at the cup in my hand. "Warshmire's Home-Made Honey!" The cheerful yellow label tells me.