SOME KIND OF DISASTER ─ oliver wood

[ 023 ] fool's holiday

Now, Sawyer wonders if that talisman does more than ward off invisible mystery terrorists. She wonders if it's enough to protect Jeremy from what's going on in his own home. He hadn't gotten any letters from his family after last year, and Sawyer had been waiting for him to open up about the surfacing issue. To no avail. He held onto his sunny composure just as tightly as he held onto his fake talisman every time they walked down the hallways of the ancient castle.

A knock on the door snatches her attention away from the street below her window.

"Hey," Wyatt said, a nervous smile on his lips as he pushed her door open, propping one shoulder against the doorframe.

Sawyer flicked him a cool smile. "To what do I owe the prodigy child this time?"

Wyatt winced, like her words were wolf-teeth sunk into his skin.

"Just letting you know that dinner's gonna be ready in an hour," Wyatt said. "We're still making the stuffing for tomorrow's Christmas dinner and all, but Dad told me to let you know." Met with Sawyer's stony silence, Wyatt looked torn between leaving and staying, like he wanted to say something else, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he shot her a taut smile and shut the door.

Half an hour later, the apartment smelled like Christmas cooking when Sawyer finally ventured out of her room and made her way over to the kitchen. Upon entry, the light mood seemed to turn to stone as her mother took one look at Sawyer and turned to the sink and began scrubbing down a pan with stiff movements. This was one reason why Sawyer had opted out of helping in the kitchen for the six hours they'd been in here, which snowballed more into her mother's passive-aggressive silence, the palpable rift ripped open between them. Not wanting to admit that it rubbed her the wrong way, Sawyer pointedly ignored her mother and Wyatt, who waved at her before resuming chopping onions with red-rimmed eyes, as she opened the fridge to take the carton of milk off the shelf.

"Use a cup, you gremlin," Sawyer's father mused, handing her a glass before she could drink straight from the carton like she usually did when nobody was home as he set down a tray of potatoes on the kitchen island. He reached over a tray of chopped vegetables for his #1 DAD mug that Wyatt had gotten him for his birthday last year.

With a derisive flick of her fingers, Sawyer snatched the glass from him and poured out her milk.

"You decide to come help out after all?" Her father teased, with a breathy chuckle.

Her mother let out a sharp laugh. Not out of amusement, but a bitter, passive-aggressive sound wicking off the acid in her tone that made Wyatt grimace. "You think she'd want to help? Please, she's been shut in her room all day and not once has she asked."

With a cold smile, Sawyer took a sip of her milk, and raised her glass in a toast to her mother's abrasion.

Her father sighed, and turned to Sawyer. "I'm going to run down to the shops to get more salt. Wanna join me? It's not that far of a walk."

Sawyer shrugs, as if that motion could shake off the irritation in her bones at her mother's comment. "I'll grab my coat."

* * *

IGNORING HER FATHER'S FLAT LOOK, Sawyer dumped a tub of chocolate fudge ice cream into the basket. They were currently waiting in line to pay, and Sawyer had just remembered that they'd run out of ice cream.

"Your teeth are going to fall out," her father said, but didn't remove it, only eyeing the tub of ice cream as it slid between a box of fruit roll-ups and three mars bars that Sawyer had thrown in earlier, as he'd been perusing the shelves for salt, squinting at the labels and cursing himself for forgetting his reading glasses. "Your mother's going to murder me if you get more cavities. Which reminds me, we have to fix your dental appointment for next week."