“I’m going to kill him,” I groaned in exhaustion as I slumped into my seat at the kitchen table. My mother was cooking breakfast on the stovetop. My mouth watered as I took in the smell of crepes.
“What did he do, now?” my mother asked as she glanced briefly at me over her shoulder. I could see the slight, sympathetic smile on her lips before returning to focusing on making breakfast.
“Eli needs to learn that he needs to quit hitting me with a pillow just to wake me up in the morning,” I continued bitterly. I refused to meet my mother’s gaze as I said this. I could hear her smirking as I continued to refuse giving in.
“Well, Melly,” she sighed, “boys will be boys. We all know that.”
“I know, but it’s still not necessary.”
I wasn’t thrilled with my mother’s answer. But my mood did cheer up a bit when she slid a plate of cream cheese-filled crepes, bacon, eggs, and mixed berries towards me.
“Coffee?” she offered. I smiled slightly at her, watching as she poured coffee grounds onto a filter before putting water in a separate part.
“No, thanks,” I answered, “Brayden promised to get me coffee as an early birthday present.”
I was surprised to see my mother’s lips pursing. I could tell she was going to try and bribe me from not taking my brother trick-or-treating on my birthday.
“What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything special for your birthday? I could always get Katie and Sienna to get the deed done for you with Eli. Sweet Sixteens only happen once in your lifetime, y’know.”
“Mama, I’m fine with not having any birthday parties,” I insisted. “Besides! It’ll just clash with the other holidays—like All Soul’s Day the day after. Anyways, a promise is a promise.”
A stupid promise, but it was a promise I had foolishly made without thinking when I noticed my little brother struggling with Pre-Algebra. The deal was that, if he passed, I would take him trick-or-treating tomorrow night and take him for dinner after. Hopefully all the late-night study sessions, tears, and dark circles would be worth every minute spent on helping my brother prepare for a daunting Pre-Algebra test.
My mother still didn’t look too happy, and I didn’t blame her. I could tell the way her lips continued to purse in a thin, white line. Luckily, the tension was broken when my phone buzzed next to me. I picked up my phone and glanced briefly at the caller ID before answering the call.
“Hello?” I called. To my mother, I mouthed, “It’s Brayden.”
She nodded. There was a concerned look in her gaze that I had never noticed before. Brushing that aside, I turned my back on my mother and answered the call.
“Hey, Brayden. What’s up?”
“Are you about to leave yet?”
I was silent for a moment. I knew where this would be going. My eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Just about. Is A.J. pestering you again?”
I don’t need to look at Brayden to know that he is rolling his eyes. I knew Brayden well enough by now, even after a few years of knowing each other.
“How did you know?” he asked, his tone sarcastic.
“Just a hunch,” I answered sarcastically in return.
Brayden snorted in laughter before his tone turned serious. “So? Are you about to leave?”
“Don’t worry, I’m just about to walk out the door.”
As I continued talking, I walked over to where I had deposited my backpack by the front door of our house. I hauled it over my shoulder, struggling to not stagger against its startling weight.
“Please hurry. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up with A.J.’s pestering.”
“She should learn by now that she can distract me any time of day—except on Tuesday nights during ballet practice and Thursday evenings during baseball practice.”
“I know. I guess she just doesn’t want to disturb you. By the way, what do you want from Scooters Coffee House?”
I was startled by that question, but I immediately replied, “A Peanut Butter Cup Blender with an extra shot of espresso sounds great to me.”
“Do you want any breakfast?”
“No thanks, I just had some.”
“Well . . . if you change your mind, let me know.”
I smiled slightly to myself. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I promised. We hung up. I turned to my mother and said, “Mama, I’m leaving!”
My fingers barely brushed against the iron-wrought doorknob when my mother’s voice stopped me.
“Wait—Melly!” I froze before turning to face her. I stared at her, eyebrows furrowed.
“Wha—?” I began. Instead, she pressed a red velvet, elongated rectangular box. I noticed the vintage silver hinges and a pink dusty rose ribbon tied right in the middle.
I stared at her as my mother grinned at me. As I continued to look her in the eyes, I noticed that her smile seemed a bit off. I could tell in the way her eyes danced, darting around the room, as though glancing anywhere but at me.
“Thanks?” I said, confused, “But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“I know,” my mother answered, her tone oddly eager, “but I figured that I’d go ahead and give this to you today. Open it.”
I hesitantly did so. I pried the silver-hinged package open with my fingers and glanced inside. My breath hitched as a vintage-looking fire opal pendant came into view, hanging on a delicate, slightly-rusted silver chain.
“I didn’t know that the Monroes had family heirlooms,” I half-teased. I raised a surprised eyebrow at my mother, who continued to stare at me. I noticed the way she bit her lower lip, refusing to look me directly in the eye.
“It belonged to your grandmother, fifth-times removed.”
I did the math in my head, frowning. “So that means that our ancestry was a part of the Civil War?” I commented slowly.
“In a way, yes. Melly,” she sighed, “there’s something that we need to talk about.”
I felt my face heat up, and I groaned in embarrassment. “God, Mom! Not now! Can’t we talk about it after school? It’s very obvious that A.J. is the one who likes Brayden, not me. I only view Brayden as though he’s my brother.”
I was so anxious about the supposed boy-talk that I didn’t notice her shaking her head wildly with concern.
“That’s not what I mean, Melanie Howard, and you know it,” my mother defended. She still refused to meet my gaze. I frowned, confused. Then, I finally sighed.
“Mama, I would like to have a conversation with you, but right now, I’m late to school. I don’t want Brayden to call me again.” I began to move to the door. I opened it. I could hear her protesting behind me, but I didn’t listen. Over my shoulder, I added, “We can talk about this after I get home from school!”
With that, I closed the door firmly shut behind me and made my way over to Jones Street.