The Curse of Pepsi Lane [English version of The Witch and the Playboy]

Chapter 2- Subtle Desires

PEPSI'S POV

"I don't think your face powder is enough, Pumpkin poop. Just finish the whole bottle up." I find myself grinning at my beloved grandma Mirinda's sarcastic remark. 

History time; the names of everyone from our family were derived from soda brands around the world. It actually rooted in the typo error of our state government's vital records in Grams' birth certificate. Her name was supposed to be Miranda but because of that single letter mistake, we became a whole clan of sodas in no time. At first, Grams' parents didn't know that Mirinda is actually a soda, Pepsi's version of Coke's Fanta, and when they did, they started having an obsession with soda names.

My late mom's name is Mountain Dew—of course, I'm kidding. Her actual name is Fanta Grace Lane because my grandparents' theme color during their wedding was orange, and I was thinking that they were just finding an excuse to make her name out of a soda.

And then, here I am, the tastiest of them all: Pepsi. Pepsi Anika Lane. For some reason though, I don't think it suits me. My personality is dry as fuck and I like drinking water a lot instead of those unhealthy carbonated drinks. Good thing I wasn't named after 7-up because that would sound weird as hell.

I have a brother, Sprite Justin. He's ten years older than me and is currently working as a nurse abroad. He's almost thirty but is still single, like literally single, and didn't date anyone for a long time and no, he's not in the closet. He just wants me to finish at least high school. I tried to have a part-time job at a local diner near the school but it just ended with us having a huge fight. He didn't want me to work. He just wants me to take care of Grams after my school hours because she's all that we have.

Our house was burnt ten years ago because of the stupidity of our nanny at that time. She was grilling BBQ on the front porch and recklessly lit her cigarette so there you go. The propane tank exploded and ripped out our entire house.

My parents were in their room at that time while I was playing hide and seek with Lola, our Sphynx cat in the backyard. Sprite was at school so he didn't saw the traumatic event right before his own eyes. The fire spread fast and my parents were trapped in their room. They were already caught up in the fire as soon as the firefighters came. I remember crying endlessly the moment I saw their burned bodies. It was so shocking, so sudden and so traumatic as I was only eight years old at that time. It was in broad daylight, and I can still remember all the details of the event as if it was just yesterday; debris that was thrown hundreds of feet across the yard—burnt clothes, plywood, my toy kitchen, dolls, and torn books, mangled furniture, other stuff littering the ground...and our parents' dead bodies.

Sprite has been serving as my father ever since our parents went to heaven. He worked at the local cinema in the evening after school hours until he reached college and finally graduated.

When he moved to Europe, I was left alone with Grams in her old, family house. Grams and Sprite are my only family now, and I don't know what I'm going to do without them.

Grams is already eighty-five years old but she's still full of energy. You would always find her in front of our desktop computer dancing Zumba routines by just following the steps on Youtube. I have taught her how to navigate the computer and the internet. She's also an expert in Mobile Legends as well as in Helix and that free soccer game in Messenger. I'm just worried about her health because she's having this shortness of breath and high blood pressure sometimes. I always scold her and tell her that at her age, she should just be sitting on the front porch and catch some fresh air and not tire herself from playing games and dancing actively like she's sweet sixteen.