Kyle gives me a pinched look, trying to adjust his bulging duffle bag so it fits better underneath his arm. “Why isn’t Mom picking me up?”
“She’s busy,” I tell him with a forced smile, “did you have fun?”
Is it so wrong that I want Liam to think I’m a wonderful and attentive older sister?
Kyle rolls his eyes as he throws his head back and steps outside. “Let’s just go.”
I try to laugh, but it just sounds like I want to cry. “Well, bye, Liam…and Lincoln.”
“Bye, Megan,” Liam says, giving me a half-wave, “and Kyle. See you guys later.”
Aha! Maybe there is a chance…
Still, I know better than to get my hopes up.
“I hate when you drive,” Kyle whines as we walk to the car. “You never play any good music.”
“Stop whining,” I huff, opening the backseat door for him, “it’s so annoying.”
“You’re annoying” is his petty comeback, and I motion to his booster seat. “Just sit down already.”
“Who was the cute guy?” Hailee asks as I make sure that Kyle has his seatbelt on. “Was he Lincoln’s brother?”
Kyle’s nose scrunches up. “Liam is not cute.”
I roll my eyes as I shut his door. Great, now there’s going to be an argument about how Kyle is a boy and he’s “too little” to understand, and then Kyle will protest in his usual whiny voice.
It’s exhausting just thinking about it.
“You are too little to understand,” Hailee snaps at him as I get into the car, “isn’t he, Megan?”
I buckle my seatbelt. “Whatever…”
This isn’t my problem.
“I’m gonna tell Liam that you like him,” Kyle taunts as I pull out of the Haldons’ driveaway, “and that you want to marry him.”
Hailee scoffs as Kyle proceeds to make kissy noises. “Like he’d believe you.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, well, the best she can with her seatbelt on while obviously sitting in the car. “Besides, I think our new neighbor is mega-hot.”
Kyle’s eyebrows crease in confusion. “What new neighbor?”
Clearly, my brother has been living under a rock.
“The one that just moved in yesterday,” Hailee tells him with an exasperated sigh, “right next to us? Anyway, he is soooooooooo dreamy!” Kyle and I both gag, causing her to cross her arms. “Well, he is!”
“Enough about him,” I finally say, “which of you know where Mom’s blueberry bread recipe is?”
Hailee arches an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
“Yeah,” Kyle agrees, wiping a finger under his nose, “why?”
“Because I want to try and make it,” I reply coolly, “so, any ideas?”
If I can follow the recipe, I can bake another bread, and then take it next door so Mom will never know that I threw the other loaf down to the ground.
I really shouldn’t have done that…
“I know where it is.” Hailee examines her hot pink nails. “But, it’s gonna cost ya.”
“That’s blackmail!” Kyle declares with a horrified gasp. “Mommy says that blackmail is bad!”
“Thank you, Kyle.” I glance at Hailee. “He’s right.”
“It’s not blackmail,” she replies with an eye-roll, “it’s supply and demand.”
I’m desperate.
“What do you want?” I mutter, knowing that I’m going to regret asking.
“You have to be my personal Xuber driver, whenever I want, for the rest of the month.”
Am I that desperate though? Yes, yes, I am.
“Fine,” I give in, “the recipe for your transportation.”
Anything to save my backside from Mom’s lecturing…
——————
Let it be known, I hate baking. And cooking. Honestly? I just don’t want to be worried about following a recipe and hoping that somehow everything turns out okay. Who needs that kind of stress in their life?
However, I made the stupid bread. Well, it’s still in the oven, but it’s pretty much a done deal at this point. And I don’t know why, but I find myself looking over the list of ingredients to make sure that I didn’t forget anything.
Flour? Please, got it. Sugar? Of course. Baking powder? Baking powder?
I blink and reread the two words: Baking. Powder.
No, I could’ve sworn it said baking soda. Dang it. There can’t be that much of a difference between the two though…right? Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine.
“I’m hungry!” Kyle announces, coming into the kitchen. “I want something to eat!”
I let out a loud groan. “Didn’t they feed you over there?”
“But that was breakfast!”
“That was only forty minutes ago,” I drawl, crossing my arms, “so forget it. Drink some water.”
“You drink some water,” he retorts in a snotty voice, stomping out of the kitchen. “Mom lets me have snacks!”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Mom!” I holler after him.
“Blah, blah, blah…”
So. Annoying.
While the bread continues to bake, I watch reruns on TV as my darling siblings thankfully keep to themselves, and then I do the mature thing by cleaning up in the kitchen.
Soon the timer goes off, and I carefully pull the pan out of the oven using Mom’s ridiculous cooking mitts. Not to sound conceited or anything, but this bread smells pretty dang good.
I set the pan down on one of Mom’s matching potholders, and then get rid of the oven mitts before turning the oven off.
“Cool for fifteen minutes in the pan,” I mutter, reading over the final part of the instructions, “and then transfer to a cooling rack so it can cool completely.”
Okay, but why am I letting it cool twice? Whatever. Baking is so weird…
Fifteen minutes later—okay, twenty minutes later—I’m back in the kitchen trying to wedge the loaf out of the pan. Then, all I can do is stare at the stupid thing as it rests on the cooling rack. It’s hideous. And it’s flat.
I guess there is that much of a difference between baking
