Big Girl Boots

One

Coda, who was now dressed in a pair of jeans that were too big and a lavender shirt that all but swallowed her, was silently sipping a glass of orange juice at the bar next to Kellan. On my way to the coffee maker, I shoved him with my shoulder and gently patted Coda's blonde head.

She glanced up and smiled sweetly while Kellan shot me a glare.

"Want some coffee?" I called over my shoulder, jostling the black plastic lid when it didn't easily flip open.

"Sure," he replied, if not a bit grudgingly.

It took me a solid five minutes just to get fresh grounds and water in, and the two at the bar seemed to find great humor in my struggle. Coda would occasionally call out words of assistance or encouragement while my cousin just laughed silently.

"Ha!" I shouted, finally slamming down the lid and jabbing the brew button with more force than necessary.

"Ha!"

I spun around to find my aunt mimicking me in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Morning, mama Callie," I grinned, placing both hands on my hips.

"Hi, Blakey. What's got you so excited this early in the morning?"

I pointed to the steaming coffee maker with a proud look. "I finally got the stupid thing to work."

"Took you that long, huh?" She chuckled, moving to rinse out the cup she'd brought into the kitchen with her. Mama Callie always drank her coffee out on the front porch, a habit I found adorable.

"What's for breakfast?" I changed the subject, pinning her with an expectant stare.

"Poptarts?" She suggested, giggling when disappointment appeared on the faces of all three kids in the room.

"Alright, fine. I'll make waffles."

"Yes!" I cheered, moving to fill up a blue ceramic coffee cup and sliding it across the bar to Kellan. "I'm gonna do my makeup, but I swear I'll be back for waffles."

"You do that," my aunt chuckled, pulling out the waffle iron Kellan and I had purchased for her last Christmas.

My own cup of coffee in hand, I trudged back up the stairs to my bedroom.

Even though Mark and Callie only had one kid, they'd built a room specifically for me in the new house. We all knew I preferred staying with them over my own parents and it was a given that I'd spend as much time up here as possible. Even though that was the case, I don't think anybody expected me to go to school up here. Lucky for me, my aunt and uncle had been thrilled at my decision.

That was the thing about them; they were happy if we were happy.

Plopping down at the white desk in the corner, I set to work on my makeup.

A ridiculous amount of freckles peppered my entire face, but instead of covering them up, I left them alone. The way I saw it, they made me who I was.

I did, however, dab some cover-up on the never ending amount of pimples that littered my features, mostly on my chin and the sides of my face. Mom used those particular locations of infection as a reason to tell me not to slouch so much, but I couldn't help it. School was boring and I like to sit with my face in between my germy hands. It was comfortable.

Next, I moved on to my eyebrows.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was kind of a typical girl when it came to makeup. I took very good care to pluck and shape those stupid things into works of art. My mom always told me that the eyebrows frame the face, and if you've ever looked up photos of celebrities with their eyebrows shaved off, you'll agree.