Delphic Song

Chapter Two

But I don’t really mind all that much. I almost always end up having fun, and Payson and I are so close that even if I really hated it, she would immediately get my lazy ass home for a night of movies and way too much junk food.

Thinking about food made my stomach rumble. I pressed my lips together as I tried to decide whether or not it was worth it to go downstairs to get food or just try to go back to sleep. Food won.

I took the stairs quietly, treading carefully over the two steps that creaked so as not to wake anyone.

The moonlight was shining through the glass doors that opened onto the porch, illuminating the kitchen on the right and our mudroom, an extension of the kitchen. The silvery white light reflected off the pots and pans hung above our island, guiding me to the refrigerator. The cold air washed over me as I opened it, scanning the contents for something edible. The harsh white light in the fridge revealed a bag of romaine lettuce, a metal pot of leftover soup, bags of carrots, apples, and other fruits and veggies in the plastic drawers, as well as cheese and sandwich meat and a loaf of bread, but nothing I could snack on. I closed the fridge and opened the freezer, barely having to glimpse the food inside before pulling out the carton of Hershey’s Oreo ice cream.

“Only a few bites,” I promised myself, grabbing a spoon and digging in. The flavor melted on my tongue, cooling me off. I savored the richness, leaving it on my tongue until it had fully melted before taking another bite.

Within the next ten minutes the ice cream was gone, and I was scraping the bottom for the last delicious spoonful. So much for only a few bites. But, in my defense, the half-gallon had been almost gone when I’d taken it out of the freezer, so it was basically equal to eating a small bowl of ice cream. Maybe a cereal bowl of ice cream. Maybe even two…

To hide the fact that I had just gobbled up almost a half-gallon of ice cream and to delay my dad’s wrath when he found out, I put the empty carton back in the freezer and covered it with multiple bags of frozen vegetables and ice cube trays. I dropped my spoon in the dishwasher and headed outside. Our backyard was visible, faintly, in the moonlight, but I could barely discern anything with the glare of the florescent lighting bouncing off the window pane. I switched it off and walked to the porch's glass doors, sliding one open and stepping outside. The yard was glowing softly, the light reflecting off the grill we kept on our patio, beside the love seat and Liz's vegetable garden. Further to the left is our trampoline, worn and much less bouncy than when we got it when I was four. The walls are tattered and ripped in places, falling apart. Now Joshua and his friends are the only ones who use it.

The air wasn’t nearly as cool as the frigid air of the freezer had been, and felt muggy and hot against my skin. A warm breeze blew through my hair. Across the yard, the trees at the edge of the forest swayed, their leaves rustling eerily in the night. I leaned against the railing, crossing my arms in front of me so that my ribs were resting on my forearms. The moon seemed unnaturally bright, and I briefly wondered if it was full before deciding that I was hungry for real food and heading back inside to make toast.

I stuck a piece in the toaster and boosted myself up onto the countertop while I waited. A few minutes later, the toaster dinged sharply, alerting me that my toast was done. I smeared peanut butter over in a thick spread, taking a huge bite as I headed back outside. On second thought, I turned back and grabbed my book off the couch in the living room. At night, I usually got sleepy after reading a few chapters, so maybe this would help my eyes get heavy again.

As I stepped back outside, the wind picked up. A fierce gale swept across the yard, whipping my hair across my face and tossing leaves across the lawn. I turned my face into it and closed my eyes, parting my lips and relaxing my shoulders. When it died down, I was left picking strands of my hair out of the peanut butter on my toast that had been blown into the sticky mess. I took another bite as I collapsed into one of the two lounge chairs we keep on the porch during the summer. Liz likes to lie out here and tan while drinking a margarita, and sometimes Payson and I do the same, although Liz and my dad make sure we have a glass of lemonade in hand and not alcohol. I smiled as I thought about Liz and Dad together, married and happy. I’m glad that my dad got over Mom – my real mom – faster than I did, or he might have missed out on this chance.