From Me to You [Complete]

9

I slowly dry a plastic food platter –it features a picture of a farm– and try not to lose the staring contest I am potentially winning with Jean. All of us 'kids' are doing the dishes in the kitchen of the Lyon's cottage –kids is definitely a broad term when eighteen year-old Jean and twenty year-old Ann are included in it. We have the perfect system: Robert washes, Ann rinses, Jean and I dry, Michael puts away, and Andy lies across three chairs at the dining room table, grinning like an idiot.

"Will you two quit that and be a little more help?" Ann's brisk voice says, talking to Jean and me. I giggle, but don't stop staring into Jean's dark, almost black-brown eyes. My sister has a tendency to want things her way. But today I'm not going to let her complaints ruin my already amazing morning.

"Nope," I say, widening my eyes a little bit to keep them from closing. Jean swallows, never taking his eyes from mine, and strains visibly not to blink. The platter is forgotten in my hands, the tea towel scrunched into a ball.

"C'mon, Amanda, you can't keep this up." Andy's voice is distant. I can tell he is joking but I won't break concentration for even long enough to fully laugh.

"Yea, give up, already," Michael says, and my lips twitch.

"Shh," I say curtly, and hear Michael and Andy laugh softly. I have to win. Apparently Jean holds the Lyon record for longest staring contest, and no one has ever won against him. A girl a couple years ahead of me at school used to have staring contests for what seemed like ever. I heard from a friend of mine that her eyes froze wide open when she refused to blink for too long.

I blink. "Frig," I mutter and Jean laughs before blinking rapidly to clear his vision. I blink a few times myself, and watch white spots dance across the backs of my eyelids.

"I knew you couldn't do it," Andy says, and I give him a challenging glare. "Hey, I never said I can," he declares, throwing up his arms defensively, and I smile.

"Amanda!" Ann says pointedly, and I turn to face her. "Dishes." Her look takes in the two items in the dish rack. Apparently Ann and Robert were watching mine and Jean's little game, along with everybody else.

I shake my head at Andy, before turning to get a knife out of the dish rack. Jean's hand closes over it just as mine does, and I stare at him hard.

"I'll give you another chance," Jean says, shrugging.

"Rock. Paper. Scissors." I say, and smile daringly.

"Alright," Jean says, and we both take our hands off the knife.

"Oh. My. Goodness. Can we just get the dishes done and get to the beach?" Ann complains, though I notice she has stopped moving, watching us carefully.

"Yea..." Andy agrees softly, "You might force me to get up and do something." He grins.

"Such a tragedy," I mutter sarcastically, and Andy sticks his tongue out at me.

"Let's do this," Jean says, dropping his tea towel on Michael. I do the same, and clear my throat to stop myself laughing as Michael exclaims, "Hey! I'm not a towel rack!"

"You are now," says Jean.

"Best two out of three?" I ask, raising my hand.

Jean nods, and raises his hand as well.

"Go!" shouts Robert, and Jean and I both yell, "Rock! Paper! Scissors!" as our hands swing down.