A/N Hey guys! Question for this chapter- What's your favorite color?
Chapter Seven
Elliot
When I wake up, it's chilly in my house, as usual. I go over to Emma's room using the secret passage Emma discovered a year ago. She loves it when I use it, squealing every time she sees me emerge from the tiny hole.
She's sleeping, sandwiched between a white mattress and a pale blue comforter that matches her pillows. While her favorite color is pink, Mom refused to let her have a pink room. Emma has to make do with a bright pink fleece blanket that she only uses in the winter when it gets cold.
I wake her up, gently shaking her until she emerges from her dreams. It must've been a happy one, one she doesn't get often, because she's smiling when her eyes open. "Good dream, Emma?" I ask, opening her closet door, finding her school uniform neatly hung up next to the rest of her clothes.
Since I'm 16 and 'should be focusing on finding my soul mate' I don't go to school. The kids that don't have necklaces stop at 14, like I did. Instead of looking for their soul mate, they look for a job they'll have for the rest of their life.
I pick Emma up out of her bed and try to take her downstairs. She won't have that though. She pushes me out of the room saying, "Elliot I have to get dressed! Go away!" She pushes me out of the room and slams the door. I laugh at her, tell her to hurry up, and run down the stairs. I walk into the kitchen, turning the lights on in every room as I go. It's an old habit I picked up when I was young.
I turn on the stove and make Emma her favorite breakfast, which she says, "Only Elliot can make,", I grab the eggs out of the refrigerator, and the bacon out of the freezer, and start frying the eggs. I pour her a glass of orange juice after the eggs are done and the bacon is sizzling in the pan next to me. I holler for Emma to hurry up and put the eggs on a plate at the table.
I give her a few more minutes after the bacon is finished and sitting next to the eggs and orange juice, sizzling quietly. I walk quietly back up the stairs, trying to sneak up on her so she doesn't lock me out again. When it comes to getting ready for school, Emma is very stubborn. I knock on her door, and when she doesn't answer, I push it open. Emma is jumping on her bed, shirt backwards, and skirt crooked. I catch her before she runs out the door and fix her shirt, tucking the tail in the back of her skirt. I straighten her skirt and grab her shoes off her dresser. I put her shoes on her as she fidgets around, a natural ball of endless energy.
"Breakfast is done," I tell her. Her eyes light up immediately afterward, as the way to Emma's heart is through food and the color pink.
She runs out the door after that, racing me down the stairs. I could easily beat her down the stairs, but as most people do, I let her win. Emma's pretty smart for her age, I'm sure she's figured out that I constantly let her win, but if she does, she doesn't let me know. She enjoys the adrenaline rush she always seems to get in the morning, waking her up instantly.
When I finally get down the stairs, she's already scarfed down her bacon and is almost done with her eggs and orange juice. She smiles at me, mouth full of egg. She swallows that piece of egg and chugs the rest of her orange juice. "Done, Elliot!" she tells me, as she walks her empty plate and glass to the sink.
She runs to get her backpack, guess what color, and comes back with it and her favorite jacket in hand. She has me zip up her jacket since she hasn't quiet mastered that yet and pulls her backpack on. She grabs my hand and practically pulls me out the door to walk her to school even though I have a serious case of bedhead and am still in my pajamas. I don't get embarrassed easily, so I flatten down my hair the best I can and walk her to school.
Emma is 6 years old, meaning she's in her 3rd year of school. She's quite young to be in her 3rd year but both my parents and I think she can handle it, and she does very well.
After dropping Emma off and assuring her that yes, I will be back in time to walk her home, and no, I won't forget her like I did last week, I walk back home and spend the day with my nose in one of my old history textbooks.
