The God's Reign: Book one, The Knowing

chapter 2- AT&T provides us with the stocker channel

As usual, my house was warm and cozy on the inside of the walls as it was outside. A dirt-brown couch and TV were set up on the right side of the door-way. On the left, a silver kitchen glittered under a ceiling lamp near the back window, along with a black marble counter-top and maple wood chairs with a matching dining table.

My mother went back to cooking again, stirring and cooling down the casserole in a steel pot. I walked past the couch and TV to see my younger brother, Travis, slumped in a green beanbag, playing on his Game-boy. He looked nothing like me. His hair was blonde and cut back, his eyes chocolate chip brown (mine were rotting mold green.), and his skin matched his eyes, as if he just came back from a month in the Keys.

He waved his hand at me, his eyes glued to the screen of his game. I disregarded him and followed Hillary's path to my room, making sure she did tear down the house in the process. My father suddenly stopped me in my tracks by grabbing my arm behind me.

My father looked exactly like Travis, but taller and with a skinnier frame. His hair was longer as well, making him look like an African American version of Matt Damon. I remember what Hillary had said on the bus- Once you know who your father is, life will get more interesting than you'd prefer.

Now that I looked at him, I pondered upon the quote. That couldn't mean he was hiding something from mom and me, right? And if he did, how did Hillary no if I didn't know first? After all, he was my dad.

"Not so fast young lady," he ordered. "Where are you going? We are about to eat dinner."

I was about to consider telling dad about what Hillary had said, but I knew the two of them hated each other for God knows what reason. He would probably write a new segment for the news- my daughter brings home my trash-talking sworn enemy!

"Err..... Can we eat in my room tonight, just to get her settled in for her sleep-over? Plus, we have something to talk about." I asked him.

My father looked a little hurt, then he grumbled. "Oh right, the blue-headed brat is staying the weekend," His gaze switched to me as I raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh... no offense."

"Some taken," I retorted. Then my father nodded. I walked over to the countertop to serve Hillary and I some dinner while it was still warm. I grabbed two plates along with napkins and silverware. I took a spatula and scooped tuna casserole on both of our plates. On Hillary's plate, I picked out the fish pieces. (For some reason, she would not eat seafood at all. Scallops, crab, shrimp, if it lived in water, she wouldn't eat it.) I took the pieces and gave them to Lussafir, who sat curled up on the couch and purred his head against my hand as I pet him.

Now, Lussafir was Hillary's cat. Lussafir had long black fur and bluish-gray eyes. Though he belonged to Hillary, Lussafir lived with us and followed me almost everywhere outside of school. (He even followed me into the bathroom one time-  he seemed to enjoy staring at me half-naked, thought I was not.)

Sooner or later, I paced down the hallway toward my room, balancing the plates on my hands like a bar waitress. climbing up the stairs, I then entered my room. My room was a blue rectangle. Several wooden chests sat in the corners, holding random crap that I was too lazy to put away. My bed was pushed to the end of the room, and across from it, a TV was propped up on a shelf that was nailed to the wall.

Hillary was buried in my Papua-san chair, flipping the channels on the TV for any good programs. Her face looked calm, but her eyes were still frazzled from the incident. She finally looked up at me, and she reached for her plate. "Thanks," she sighed. "Did you pick out all the fish?"

I nodded. "Not even a molecule left" I reported. "I split the fish with Lussafir."

Hillary took her plate and continued to flip channels in silence, occasionally taking bites of casserole. I wanted to talk to her, so I plopped down on my bed and started the conversation.