Twisted Strings [MONSTER EDITING - Read at your own risk]

A Little Subtle

5. A Little Subtle 

On Saturday, we were baking a cake, while Nickelback's ''This Afternoon'' played from the cheap Bluetooth speakers I had picked from a sale, two months ago. Drew and Clay desperately wanted to help me, so I had them at melting the chocolate. They kept dipping in their fingers in the glass bowl that sat on the stove and licked when they thought I wasn't looking. Cheaters.

Elliot was sprawled over the couch in the living room, reading newspaper. He was like an old man in all aspects. Each time he came across something alarming, he narrated the headline to us. Like Drew or Clay cared or remotely understood what 'inflation' meant. Dad was humming along the song as he whisked the eggs.

''It's melted already, step away.'' The twins were still at it. With them hovering over the chocolate like house flies, the kitchen seemed crowded. I placed a sheet of baking paper over the pan and brushed it with some oil, just like Dad had taught me. I sucked at cooking but I knew how to do little steps.

''New Zealand and Australia are in the finals, the game will begin on 20th June.'' Elliot announced from the living room,

''Will you stop that? I don't wanna hear about cricket again, or anything for that matter!'' I snapped from where I stood. The kitchen was attached to the living room and I could see his head popping from the couch. He had his legs resting on the top of the couch, something that always irked me.

''They have soccer news as well, 'Messi reigns again-''

''Dad, please make him stop.'' I groaned. He glanced at me dismissively and handed me the batter and I placed a cup of melted butter in it.

Dad, oblivious to my pain, just sang along the song, he was bent down to get something else from the cupboard. I poured the batter over the baking tray and spread it evenly with a spatula. The chocolate gaze that was supposed to go on the top, was still at the mercy of the twins.

''You guys won't leave any for the cake!'' I cried when I noticed they had left all shame and were using spoons to eat the chocolate. I pushed them away from the counter and threw the spoons in the sink, where all the dirty dishes sat. Drew tried to wipe her mouth but there was chocolate smudged all around her lips and now her sleeves had it too. Little devils.

''Here, take this.'' I got them half empty jar of Nutella, to make them leave the kitchen. It wasn't the best thing to do, but they left giggling and Dad glared at me,

''That's very unhealthy.''

I shrugged, ''They're kids Dad, let them live.''

We weren't related to Drew and Clay by blood. They weren't my real brother or sister. Their Mom died after giving birth to them and Uncle Gayle was in army. He left the twins in Dad's care when they were three, because he was always away from home and there was no one to look after them. Mom had hated the idea of Dad raising two 'extra' kids who weren't 'his own'.

One reason why we dreaded visiting her was this specific discussion. She always found a way to talk about the twins and tell us how wrong it was to raise kids that weren't your own. Which was total bull, since she didn't even raise kids who were her own.

For me, Drew and Clay were as precious as Elliot and Dad were. I couldn't bring myself to imagine a life without them. One reason why our visits at Ellen Farley's house always ended up in massive screaming matches and broken china.

''What's the plan for your birthday?'' Dad asked when we placed the cake in the oven. I took up the task of cleaning the mess we had made on the shelves. ''Are you sure you don't want a party? It's not every day you turn seventeen.''