An ex-couples rivalry for the spot as student body president becomes even more convoluted when two new, unexpected candidates enter the race. Chloe and Preston team up, each vowing to get one member kicked from the competition-- but when they both e...
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I was getting things ready in the kitchen when I heard a car pull into the driveway. A glance at the clock showed that it was four, exactly the time that Finn agreed to come over. For all his faults, at least he was punctual.
I set down the tray in my hands and headed out of the kitchen, walking to the door and opening it to see the tall boy stepping out of his rusty black truck. My eyes couldn't help but trail to the dent on the passenger's door as he shut his own and walked over to greet me.
I held open the screen door to invite him inside and he gave a casual "Hey," while walking up the porch steps.
"Hey," I replied, shutting the door once he entered the bright house, not even trying to hide his wandering eyes.
The entryway was neat and tidy just like everywhere else, the white walls decorated with elegant picture frames showcasing the family photographs we'd taken throughout the years. A familiar weight fell on my chest as I looked to the most recent one, where it was only me and my father. My mother wasn't there, stolen away from us just months before the photo was taken.
There was still so much I didn't understand about it. So many unanswered questions, so many things that felt unfair. Why her, why then? Why did that reckless driver have to be going down that road at that moment? How did every part of that day add up to her being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
The end of my junior year was a mess. While everyone else was stressing and studying for final exams, I was helping Dad plan Mom's funeral. Fulton excused me from the tests, and I skipped out on the last month of school. As far as anyone but Anita or Karen knew, I went on an early vacation to Barbados. In reality, I was lying in bed for weeks on end, barely able to eat or sleep.
By the end of summer vacation, Dad and I pulled ourselves together. We managed to start smiling again. Dad went back to work and I straightened up the house, getting it back to the freakishly-neat state Mom always kept it in. It wasn't long before we could even talk about her without crying. Somehow, I was okay.
I swallowed and looked away from the wall of pictures, not wanting to let my thoughts carry me too far. "I set us up in the kitchen."
"The kitchen?" Finn questioned, trailing behind me as I headed down the hall and back into the pristine room of marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. He looked out of place in the room, too tall, too disinterested, and far too messy.
"We're making cupcakes, cookies, and brownies," I explained, grabbing one of the seven boxes of mix I'd bought and setting it on the counter in front of him. "I also got a lot of icing, so we can write on them. I'm thinking your slogan, Finn for the win, although it might be a little hard to fit."
"Chloe," he looked to me with a grimace, "guys don't make cupcakes, cookies, or brownies."
I had to stop my eyes from rolling as I let out a short, unamused laugh. "You can't be serious."
