Just one week from Christmas, Sam Thornton and her twin brother are inconvenienced with the news of new neighbors who, unfortunately, have been befriended by their overly social parents.
So when they are forced to hang out with the Baker's son for...
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Bonjour, comment ça va? Ça va bien. Merci pour la lecture.
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"I need you to take this over to the Bakers' house, Sam." I lower the book in front of my face slowly, my eyes peaking over the top of the pages to see a medium sized basket filled to the brim with baked goods and what looks to be a couple of our family Christmas cards.
"You cannot expect me to walk over there in this snow. And, seriously mom? Our Christmas cards? I look like a buck toothed weirdo in those. Please take them out." I beg her, laying the novel "Little Women" in my lap.
I watch her thin lips purse into an amused smirk before she sets the basket down on the couch next to me. "Would this attitude towards our perfectly fine Christmas cards have anything to do with Winter?"
"Yeah that's the point, mom. It's winter...Christmas cards are taken in the winter? I don't know where you're going with this." I sigh.
My mother's eyes roll obnoxiously and my eyebrows furrow at her reaction. "What?" I ask.
"Winter is the name of the neighbor boy. The Bakers' son." She explains with an amused laugh.
"Oh. Well that's ironic." I mumble, picking my book back up and trying to find my place again. Unfortunately, a manicured finger rests in the inside of the spine and it drops back down onto my lap.
"Sam. I just need you to take that over there sometime today, okay?"
"Yes." I sigh, "Now can I please read my book? You're my teacher, you know. You're supposed to support the development of my young and impressionable mind."
With that, she waves off my attitude and my snarky comment before shuffling off towards the kitchen, the smell of pumpkin rolls and snickerdoodles lingering in her place.
I laugh quietly, shaking my head at myself in amusement.
Several hours spent exploring the lives of the March sisters pass before I remember my long forgotten task to take the very tempting baked goods beside me next door.
My phone buzzes, startling me. I release a breath, holding my thumb over my phones home button to unlock it, my eyes scanning over the message from Dakota. I try not to text him back immediately simply to ask why the heck he doesn't just walk downstairs instead of being lazy until I read over the text.
Dakota: Mom and Dad are going out with the neighbors tonight. I guess mom really wants that vacuum and yoga classes.
My eyebrows furrow at the words. Parents are so weird. They make friends just as easily as kids in the first grade. I really don't understand it.
Me: Wth?! They're so weird. What are we supposed to do?
