A Pocketful of Gems

Chapter 1: sing a song of six pence - Part 3

I woke late!

I took a long shower dressed and went down stairs, my ears still ringing from the loudness of the shower's spray.

Mom was in the kitchen plating scrambled eggs. Dad joined us from the living-room and we sat at the tiny kitchen island and ate. My onion bagel was nicely toasted and spread thick with cream cheese, just the way I liked it, and the eggs nicely seasoned and perfectly scrambled.

"The eggs are too dry." Well, perfect to me, at least. I sighed and glanced over at dad.

"I like my eggs dry," I told dad, keeping my voice low. I glanced over at mom. She didn't seem to have noticed dad's complaint.

"I don't," he tossed the chunks of egg around with his fork and spared a piece of sausage. He bit it off in one bite and tossed the fork down on top of the eggs. He glared at mom. She sipped her orange juice.

"I know now," she forked eggs into her mouth and chewed slowly, "I'll make yours differently next time."

She finished her O.J and picked up her plate, "I'll get them, mom."

She put the dishes down and kissed my cheek as she passed.

I glared over at dad.

"What?"

"You know what," I hissed. "She got up early and made us breakfast, be grateful."

"I am," I snatched his plate up and carried the dishes to the sink. He leant beside me arms folded over his wide chest, "I could have shown it better."

"If you're gonna just stand there looking handsomely rugged with that three day old beard then rinse," he shrugged, uncrossed his arms and turned around. I looked over at him. His narrow brows where knitted together over the soft brown eyes we shared. His long thick lashes curled around folds of his brow.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?" he was always so angry, so wound up. Why? What had him so riled up? And why was he taking this anger out on mom?

"I need to get going, I'll be late."

"Okay," I dried my hands and tossed him the dish towel. "Remember kitten, no dating until after you're married."

I rolled my eyes at him and pecked him on the cheek. I had no time to argue how unfeasible that was. I called out to mom that I was leaving and got a 'have a great day at school'.

Spencer was halfway through his rounds when I got to my table, Eve and her gorgeous sweetheart weren't there yet, so I settled in to relish the scenery without concern. Spencer smiled in my general direction a few times and I melted into sighs. After my lengthy exposure to his perfect unholy smile I thought I'd built up some immunity, but I'd only gotten addicted to it. I watched him talking to Mitchell Gordon, salivating like a mad dog, but their interaction was short. Spencer broke away and came jogging towards me, his mass of ridiculously blond curls bouncing around his face. And that smile. Like nothing unpleasant occurred in his mind. Like bad things happened to everyone but him. Was Spencer somehow exempt from Murphy's Law? Part of me hoped he was, while the other part...wanted company.

"Gemma," he sat beside me, smile brilliant, "you didn't come to the Bakery today. I saved you a treat."

He put a tray of four muffins and a bottle of O.J, bearing the Sunshine Bakery's handmade paper tags, on the table. I stared at them a bit too long.

"Gem?" my head came up slowly. I hadn't even thanked him, my mouth opened, but instead of a heartfelt expression of gratitude, I asked.

"What do your parents fight about?" his mouth twisted as he tried to hold onto his smile. "Assuming, of course, that they fight, but if they don't, that's a good thing and you can disregard my super awkward question. Please."