The Not So Girl Next Door

Chapter 1: Dreams

The smell of pancakes cheered me up the same time my stomach grumbled.

My mom is the best cook I know. She has this lovely kitchen with everything from almonds to zucchinis. The walls are colored bright, yellow green and the floor is wooden. Flowers like tulips, daffodils, lilacs and hyacinths crowd the whole kitchen.

She’s like this insanely good cook. She works as a head chef in Mama Carino’s Italian, the famous Italian restaurant downtown, and makes homemade pastries during her spare time and sells them to the neighborhood. I sometimes help her with that. I even used to go around and knock on people’s doors to ask them if they want to buy my mom’s pastries when I was little, like I was some kind of Girl Scout selling cookies. But of course I don’t do that anymore. Duh.

She was flipping pancakes while listening to her iPod. “Hey kiddo! I made your favorite,” she handed me a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, her dimples showing out on the sides of her face.

I have to admit for a mom, she looks pretty young. One look at her and you’d probably think we were sisters! That’s what people keep mistaking her for. As my sister, I mean. We would walk around the department store and people would point at me and be like, “Wow! You look just like your sister! Are you twins or something?” to my mom. Then we would just walk away and laugh. I know it’s kind of rude but we just couldn’t help but crack up whenever people give that kind of comment.

Her hair is a brownish-blonde hair, kinda like mine, that flows down to her chest. Her ocean-blue eyes light up when she smiles especially when she cooks in her lovely kitchen. To top it off, she has a tiny little faded freckle just below her cheek.

 “Thanks mom!” I said, taking the plate and sitting on the chair.

         Danny, my ill-behaved thirteen-year old brother, was already eating his breakfast at the table. “Yo, Kelsie! Pass me the syrup would ‘ya?” he spoke with his mouth so full, pancake crumbs went flying everywhere.

I handed him the syrup, saying, “Could you try not to make a mess, Danny?!” in a very annoyed tone.

He snatched the syrup from my hand and snickered, “Too late, I already have.”

I rolled my eyes and ignored him as I stuffed as much food as possible in my mouth. Danny can be such a pain sometimes. No, make that ALL the time.

The phone rang. Kring, Kring, Kring.

          It suddenly reminded me of the alarm that woke me up in the middle of my dream. Stupid ringing.

 “I’ll get it!” my mom grabbed the phone so fast she could probably set a new Guinness world record for fastest phone-grabbing—if she didn’t get an award for best pancakes first. Man, these pancakes are GOOD!

 “Hello?”

She sighed, “It’s your dad”.

         Danny and I forgot all about our breakfast the second mom said the word “dad”. We grabbed the phone from her hand and began shouting, “Dad! Dad!”   

"Hey kids! How are you?"

 "We're fine dad," I was so glad to hear his voice. It felt like ages since he last called.

"When are you going to visit?" Danny asked.

“I don’t know, I’m on a business trip right now,”

“Oh,” Danny and I said with disappointment in our voice.

Ever since mom and dad divorced six years ago, Danny and I almost never get to see him. Mom says he’s very busy with his work but I guess she just doesn’t like talking about him. Sometimes I think that my mom hasn’t really gotten over him yet……