Project Marlee

Chapter Two: Blueberry Cake

A/N: So... here's the second chapter of Project Marlee! Please vote/comment/follow and offer feedback. Constructive criticism and thoughts are always accepted. :) emily // march 6, 2016

AN UNATTRACTIVE SOUNDING groan escapes my lips as I roll over. Using my arm to shield my eyes from the incandescently bright sun streaming in through the window, I fumble on the nightstand for my glasses and slip them on. Forcing myself into a sitting position, I blink to get used to the light.

It takes a moment before my brain registers the fact that I am sitting in what could be voted as quite possibly the most comfortable bed in the world.

I mean, it's no Hilton mattress or anything, but it smells like the clean detergent aunt Peggy uses and summer. It feels like home and a safe haven where nothing else matters.

Because nothing matters. I am in Seaside. I am in aunt Peggy's house. It's summer. I'm at home.

The first day of summer vacation - that is, the first day I could, potentially, allow myself a few extra hours' worth of sleep (as opposed to the untimely morning hours school requires I wake up at) - never actually involves sleeping in. My bodily schedule tells me my stomach is empty and the sun is up, which means I must be up. It was going to take a few days for me to convince my brain that I can and will sleep in far later than the set time of six forty-three.

It was no use now: I was up, wide awake, and my stomach was rumbling in quite the obtrusive manner. I groaned, knowing that though my eyes refused to shut again, proper blood flow had not yet reached my legs. They felt wobbly and ached as I pulled myself from the warmth of the sheets and slipped on my slippers laid on the floor last night.

I shivered as the cold from the hardwood flooring seeped through my worn slippers. I followed the light emanating from the window in the hall down the stairs, stopping once I stood on the last one and taking in the view. The sunshine bounced on the sparkling blue water.

Far better than the brown lawn and fading wooden fence of our backyard at dad's place.

I padded into the kitchen and searched the cupboards for a box of cereal. Frosted flakes rang against the ceramic bowl, but just as I was raiding the fridge for a carton of milk, aunt Peggy's voice made me jump.

"What are you doing?" At the last word, her voice went up an octave, shrill and alarmed.

Nearly bumping my head on the freezer, my breath caught in my throat as I turned to aunt Peggy - tangled knots muddled at the top of her head and a sleeve of her nightgown falling off one shoulder.

"Um..." I quirked a brow and glanced between the fridge and aunt Peggy. "Making breakfast?"

"Frosted flakes? Cereal?" Aunt Peggy crossed her arms. "If you think I'm going to let you eat cereal of all things for breakfast on your first day back, you clearly don't know your favorite aunt."

I set aside the counter you're my only aunt and grinned, condiments rattling as I slammed the refrigerator door shut. "Well, what do you suggest?"

"Charlie's," aunt Peggy winked.

A half hour later, aunt Peggy's tangled knots were now smoothed back into their glossy curls and my thick lenses were exchanged for the highly preferable contacts. Aunt Peggy rolled her bike out of the condo and threw one leg over the side. "Yours is still in the shed," she told me. "But don't worry - I had Josh pump some air into the tires and give it a dusting."

"Josh?" I peered at aunt Peggy, eyes wide.

"Our neighbor," she replied, pointedly avoiding my questioning eyes.