Rules #19: No Sugar
Rebellion and sweets don't really mix well together.
-()-
Dear Ms. Peyton Monroe,
After reviewing your interview and resume, we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to work at Lily's Pet House, Animal Shelter. Your job will officially begin on September 1st, Tuesday. At this date, one of our assistants will train you on the basic necessities of our deal. For further information, email us at...
Somebody knocks on the door.
I slam my laptop shut before the door can open. But, it's only mom. She saunters in, even though I didn't give her permission. This is the first time she's visited me in weeks so I know it's not just a regular visit to catch-up.
As usual, mom doesn't talk to me straight me. Instead, she walks around my room, glancing at my wall, which, besides two pictures, is complete bare. Then, she frowns at my desk, which is cluttered with homework and college applications. After shaking her head at my closet, which still has a bunch of unpacked boxes, she comes to a stop besides her bed.
"It's been two months," Mom reminds me, giving my teddy-bear, Charlotte, the evil eye. I tuck her behind my back. "Don't you think you should clean up a little?"
"I'm getting to it. I've just been, uh, busy."
"Do you need any help?"
I shake my head.
Mom presses her lips together. She hates it when I don't make an effort to start a conversation, but lately, I have no idea what to say. It seems that whatever I do, it leads to an argument.
"I got a job," I blurt out.
"That's great! It's glad to see things are working out for you. How's school?"
"Same as always."
"Yeah? Did you make any new friends?"
"Some," I lie, shrugging.
She gives me a look.
"It's only been two weeks," I protest, although we both know that's not the problem. Unlike everybody else in my family, I've never had a talent with people. Or anything in general.
"That's no excuse," Mom scolds. "Melody's made tons of friends already."
"Well, I'm not Melody."
We glare at each other for a moment. Finally, I look down at my bed, scowling down at my beloved teddy bear, Charlotte. Her fur is matted and worn from many years of use. She watches with sad, steady, brown eyes.
Mom sighs. "Alright, I'll let the issue go just this once. Besides, that's not what I came here to talk to you about. First, have you decided what to wear to the barbecue yet?"
"What barbecue?" I look up.
"Didn't Melody tell you?" She frowns when I shake my head. "Oh. Well, every month or so, the neighborhood hosts a party or so at somebody's house. This month, it's at the Raine house and they chose a 50s theme."
"Gross," I scrunch up my nose. "Whose horrible idea was that?"
"Mrs. Raine's, but-"
"Why would she choose that decade out of all things? Poodle skirts weren't the only thing that was happening back then, you know. There was black and white segregation, women's discrimination, and don't even get me started on all the animal testing-"
"Okay, Peyton," Mom says exasperatedly. "It's horrible and disgusting, but it's still the theme and I still need you to pick out a dress for it."
"I'm not going out and spending money to look good in a party that glorifies discrimination. " I scoff, crossing my arms, even though that's not my problem.
I just don't want to go a party, period.
Mom crosses her legs. "Why don't I pick out the dress then? And don't you dare say no, Peyton. Do you remember our deal? You're going to have to be obliging to the family and other peoples needs."
I scowl. "Fine."
"Great. Second of all, I'm thinking of making spaghetti, without meatballs, for dinner with apple pie for dessert. What do you think of that? Does it sound delicious?"
I throw her a suspicious look. She never asks me about these things unless she's trying to get something out of it. "I guess."
"Great," She chirps. "There's just one problem. I ran out of sugar yesterday and I completely forgot to go shopping for it today. It's too late now, since all the grocery stores and closed and you can't have pie without sugar, so do you mind doing me a favor and going out to get some?"
I blink. "What? Going out where?"
"Oh, don't worry, it's nothing too bad. You should just go and knock on somebody's door and ask for a cup of sugar or two." Mom waves her like it's no big deal.
"Mom, I can't just go out and knock on peoples doors, asking for sugar. They'll think I'm pranking them or something."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure somebody will be willing to give you some sugar.
"But-"
"The deal, Peyton."
I groan loudly.
"Peyton."
"Fine," I snap, throwing Charlotte to the side. "But your apple pie better be delicious."
"Oh, don't you worry, it will," Mom's eyes twinkle with triumph as she stands up to leave. "Oh, and Peyton? Please get rid of that stuffed animal? It's starting to smell."
She closes the door.
I stand still for a moment, then pick up Charlotte and put her back on the bed. Her eyes stare worriedly back at me. "Don't worry, cutie. I'll never get rid of you." Then, after giving her a pat on the head, I choose my clothes - black and bad, as usual - and go downstairs. My dad, who's watching TV, turns to give me an amused smile.
"Joining your biker gang?" He calls teasingly.
"Funny."
His laughter follows me outside.
The warm air washes over my face as the scent of seaweed and salt water linger in my mouth. I climb outside on my porch. A headache is already starting to form. It's been two months since we moved here and I still can't get used to that awful humidity.
The first house I go to is the Jefferson house, where a couple and two daughters, a teenager and a baby, live together. Mom's good friends with them, which is always bad news.
They look like every other house in this neighborhood. You know the deal, colorful flowers, perfectly green grass, a blindingly start white porch and crystal clear windows that leave plenty of room for the neighbors to see the sparkling chandelier inside. All that bullshit looks cute, but doesn't do a damn but hurt the environment.
I press the doorbell, which sets off some chimes, and wait with my hands crossed behind my back.
The door swings open to reveal a white woman with curled brown hair. Her smile freezes in place when she sees me.
"Hello, sweetheart," She forces out a smile again, her eyes darting around the neighborhood, as if making sure that nobody could see us. "May I help you?"
"I'm Peyton - Peyton Monroe. Do you happen to have any sugar on you? My mom, Lucille Monroe, is baking an apple pie and ran out of some."
Great. I sound like a walking cliché.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, but we just ran out," Her hands run over her skirt, getting rid of the faint wrinkles that were barely there. She smiles again. "I was going to go grocery shopping today, but something came up. Again, I'm so very sorry."
"What a coincidence."
"Yes, well..." She trails off. Her eyes dart from me to the neighborhood, then to me again, seeming more and more uncomfortable each second. It would be funny, if it wasn't so annoying. Then, without warning, she slams the door in my face.
The lights turn off from inside.
I stand still for a moment.
Bitch. My face glows from anger and embarrassment. The pain in my head only tightens. I push myself off the railing and land on their perfectly mowed grass, making sure to crush it as I storm off.
Still, a seed of dread begins to plant in my stomach. I never bothered to actually meet any of these people, no matter how mom and dad had pestered me about it. And by the way I dress, I'm not sure anybody wants to get to know me either.
In fact, the only neighbors I've actually met are the people to the right - my parents personal favorites - the Raine family.
I look over my shoulder.
In the front yard, Archer Raine is sketching something on his notepad while his dog - a Siberian husky with gray and white hair - runs around, chasing the sprinklers. I recognize the dog from all the times I watch them play fetch in the backyard.
Seemed like fun.
I've haven't talked to Archer since the first day of school. The only interaction we have is at our lockers in the morning or when I watch him play with his dog and horse in the backyard. But even then, I'm more into the animals.
I hesitate and then, decide to leave that house alone for now.
Instead, I move across the street and head towards the opposite house. I ring the doorbell. Even though the lights are on, nobody answers.
I wait for two minutes before sighing angrily and moving on. Ignoring the barking that's coming down the street, I drag my feet over to the next house, where an eight-year old answers the door. He informs me that his parents aren't home.
"Don't you have a babysitter, then?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't need one." He raises his chin.
"Obviously, you do, since you opened the door to a complete stranger. What if I was an assassin about to skin you alive and eat your organs?"
The boy shoots me an appalled look and slams the door shut.
Damn it.
I really need to keep my big mouth shut, I think as I skip next house (the lights aren't on). Maybe if I wore something pink and friendly, people would be more inclined to give me sugar. I'm pretty sure Mrs. Jefferson would have been more than eager.
Or maybe not. Who knows?
I'm not really a people person.
I kick a pebble, watching as it stumbles across the sidewalk. Then I kick it again. I don't know why I'm upset. It's like middle school all over again. Me, wandering to different tables, trying to sit with somebody. Them, trying to ignore in the hopes that I would walk away.
The pebble falls into the gutter.
Just when I'm wondering if my luck would get better in the next block, where nobody knows who I am, a voice comes from behind me.
"Watch out!"
I barely manage to turn around when a blur of grey smashes me to the sidewalk.
Luckily, my back hits the ground first, so I manage to catch myself. But, then, two paws land my chest, pushing me back to the concrete, knocking what remaining air I have out of me. My heart thuds in my chest. I turn my head to the side, trying to breathe.
Somebody yanks the dog off me. With a faint yelp, the husky stumbles back. Before I can even process what's happening, two rough hands grab my arms and pull me up. My foot slips and I stumble into somebody's chest, my forehead hitting his chin.
I take a step back, breathing harshly.
"This has got to stop," Archer, dressed in his usual flannel shirt with rolled up sleeves, rubs his jaw. His pencil is tucked behind his ear, I notice. "Are you okay? These many falls can't be good for you.
"I'm fine," I mutter. Now that I can think again, I focus on the creature at my feet. "I like your dog."
"Yeah, Buster's friendly with most people. He never goes out of his way to chase people though. I guess you really caught his attention," Archer grabs onto Buster's collar to keep him from launching at me again.
"Can I pet him?"
Archer raises an eyebrow. "I'm not so sure about that."
"Why not?"
"Well, you're not really the most - friendly of people."
"I'm a vegetarian." I say, as if this proves anything.
All of a sudden, Buster comes sprinting towards me. He must have found a way out of his collar, but I don't care. Instead, I go on my knees to meet him halfway. A bundle of white fur jumps into my arms. I try not to smile as he licks my face, instead, stroking his fur.
Archer bends down next to me, pushing Buster's head away so he can put the collar on. He doesn't seem to be annoyed. In fact, he seems amused.
"So, you don't eat meat?" He asks. Buster nuzzles his hand.
"Not since I was eleven."
"Huh," He says and stands up, brushing off his jeans. I follow him. "So, what were you doing out tonight? Out for a stroll?"
"No," I hesitate. "I was trying to get sugar from one of your neighbors. My mom ran out."
Archer pauses. "Is that what you were doing for the last half-an-hour?"
"Yes."
"And nobody gave you any?"
"Obviously."
He bursts into laughter.
"Shut up," I snap. My cheeks flush. "It's not funny. Just because the rest of your neighborhood is a bunch of judgmental, snotty, brats like you doesn't mean it gives you the right to-"
"Hey, I'm not a snotty, judgmental brat," He replies. His laughter dies down, but there's still a large grin on his face. "Why did you just ask me? I could have given you some."
"You looked busy."
Archer hums. "I see. Well, let's go."
"Go where?" I ask dully, watching as he turns around.
"To my house, silly. Where else are you going to get sugar in snotty neighborhood?"
I sigh, cross my arms and follow him to his house. Archer practically skips up the stairs of his front porch. A part of me thinks that I should feel annoyed, but instead, I'm just glad that I didn't have to keep walking around knocking on doors and getting rejected again and again.
I stop at the edge of his door.
"Ladies first," Archer sings, opening the door.
"I can just wait here," I mutter as Buster trots inside.
He shrugs, smiling. "Make sure you take your shoes off before you come in."
Then, without waiting for a reply, he walks inside.
Ah. There's the unbearing arrogance I've come to hate.
True to his word, Archer doesn't come out for five minutes, even though I hear chattering coming from what must be the kitchen. Soon, Buster comes back outside, running up to me. With his nose, he gently nudges me to come inside. Unable to help it, I follow him.
Animals have always been my weak point.
I zip off my boots, scanning his house.
It's the exact the same as mine, only flipped, I notice as I enter. His living room is on the right and the kitchen is on the left. It's all backwards. Besides the layout, his house is also a lot more sophisticated than ours. More marble tiles than comfy carpets. And, since I'm wearing socks, that isn't a good combination.
When I enter the kitchen, Archer's talking to his sister on the countertop. They shut up once I arrive.
"Peyton. It's really nice of you to join us," He says casually. "Just in case one of you forgot, I'll introduce you to each other. Julia, this is Peyton, Melody's sister. Say hi."
"Hi." Julia deadpans, not looking up.
"Hi," I mutter, looking down at my black socks. There's a hole in one of them, where the pinky toe should be. I wiggle my toes.
"So," Archer swings open the cabinets, shuffling through jars. "So, what kind of sugar do you want? Brown or white?"
"Oh," I scrunch up my nose. "I don't know."
"What's your mom making?"
"Pie, I think."
"Brown then," He swings open another few cabinets. "How much?"
I shrug.
"How's a cup?"
"Fine."
"Julia, where does mom keep the brown sugar?"
"How should I know?"
Archer stops to give us a cold look. "You two are the most useless people I've met in my life."
I roll my eyes. Julia's lips twitch. After a couple of minutes, Archer manages to find a jar full of brown sugar. He pours some out in a plastic jar. To make sure I'm not staring, I start counting the tiles on the kitchen floor. I'm on number twenty-eight when he calls my name again.
"Is this enough, sugar?"
"What?" My head jerks up.
"Is this enough sugar?" Archer holds up a jar.
"Yeah, thanks." I shake my head to clear my thoughts. It's amazing what no interaction with people for three months will do to you.
"See you at school," Archer puts his elbows on the countertop again.
"See you," I lie.
Then, I get out of there as fast as humanly possible. Or at least, I try to. Midway between the journey from the kitchen and the door, I slip on the tiles and come crashing down the floor for the second time today. My jar slips out of my hand tumbles away. I'm pushing myself up when Buster comes up running to me.
"Are you okay?" Archer calls.
"Yeah - yeah, I'm fine. Fine." I stroke Buster's fur when he nuzzles my shoulder. He also tries to help me when I'm standing up by pushing my back. "Thanks buddy."
Archer, who has somehow appeared next to me, hands me my jar. I thank him as well, sure that my cheeks must be bright pink by now. He puts his hands in his pockets, seemingly amused. For the first time today, I notice the dark circles under his eyes.
"Think you can make it home safely?" He puts his hands in his pockets.
"I'll manage," I stroke the dog's fur one last time before opening the door.
Then, I step outside in the warm Florida air, which actually feels liberating for once. With one glance back, I skip to our house. It takes me a minute to open the door but the second I get inside, I march towards the kitchen.
"About time," Mom wipes her hands on a dishcloth. "What took you so long?"
"It seems like you're not the only one who ran out of sugar tonight," I slam the jar on the countertop, scowling. "Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Bones and all your other friends have all seemed to forgot to go shopping today too. I walked around, knocking on the doors, for ages. "
"Is that so?" To my surprise, mom seems much more upset than I thought she would be. "I'm going to have to ask them about that, then. Who was it that gave you the sugar than?"
"Archer Raine."
"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow.
"It was nothing," I roll my eyes. "He was just being friendly."
"If you say so."
-()-
Usually the main girl characters are idiots and the main boy characters are jerks. But this time, the main girl character is a jerk and the main boy character is an idiot.
Yay for breaking gender roles!
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Anyways, this is my pet owl, Crackers! You already know who he is, so please keep him me keep him alive until the next update!
And to everybody who already voted/commented/followed, thank you so much! A special dedication to Ammelia11 for being such a loyal reader.
Thanks for reading!
QotC: Do you have any pets? If so, what are their names?