Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 33 - Strategically Planning a Dance

Tanner

Food just always tastes so much better when Aunt Beth prepared it with me. I don't know why that is exactly. I mean, I constantly have to stop the woman from adding weird, clashing ingredients and spilling things or burning them. Still, the end result tastes really good. Maybe it is because for some reason I feel really happy after cooking with her. Today's dinner is no exception.

I also don't hear any complaints from anybody. They all seem to be enjoying the meal, which is what makes it worth doing in the first place. Even Ash appears to be a little less depressed now. Maybe it's just hard to look miserable while you're stuffing your face with really good food. 

I'm not sure who ran over his puppy today, but he's been in a funk all morning. True, it's not easy to spot when Ash is in a mood. He is always pensive and quiet, and he permanently looks like someone took the last muffin on Earth right out of his hands. I can tell the difference, though. It's possible that we all can; we know him so well.

I'll wrestle it out of him tonight; for now, I'll just feed him.

Hunter holds out his plate when he sees me lean over the table to heap more cauliflower bake onto Ash's plate. I smile and slop a couple of loaded spoonsful on his plate as well. 

We make a good team, Hunt and me. I cook, and he eats. Cannot get any better than that. He grins back at me, and though I can see that he's feeling a little better than yesterday, something is still eating at him. I do believe he is almost ripe enough to squeeze it out.

I look at the creamy cauliflower on my plate and immediately regret allowing my vivid imagination to compare Hunter with a ripe pimple.

"How is Paisley's dress coming along?" Aunt Beth asks Willow, and they talk about patterns and material and boring shit like that for a while. I nearly let a whole forkload of savoury rice fall into my lap when I hear Paisley join in. She's using words like fabric and texture.

What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck? Prissy has broken my cousin!

"I held the fabric up against me to see how it would look on me. It is so awesome; the colour and texture really make my eyes pop!" were her exact words.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask her, but she just pulls a face at me and starts talking about hemlines! Hunter is busting a rib next to me, laughing at the look on my face.

This is too disturbing for me to listen to. I tune them out to save my ears the trauma, so, I'm only vaguely aware of Paise saying something about going to the matric dance with the guys. I assume she means us and not another group of guys. My assumption is proven correct by Jake chiming in.

"There's no way in hell I'm going to the matric farewell with my sister. Just how pathetic do you think I am?"

"You really wanna know?" she answers sweetly, taking a sip of wine. We always have a glass of wine with our Sunday family meal. Fancy meals require fancy... uhm... cheap wine.

Jake ignores the insult; he has become quite adept at ignoring insults from people. Perhaps he really doesn't hear them or confuses them with compliments. That would explain why he can walk into a room of haters without flinching or losing his confidence.

"If I decide to go, I'll find my own girl to go with."

Her lack of faith in our ability to find our own dates for the dance is almost hurtful. At least it would've been if I didn't already know what she is really trying to do. She's going to the dance as our partner? That's how she's going to play it? There's no better plan? Seriously, it's becoming exhausting. I don't know why we're all still humouring her.