9 | Strawberry Smoothie

I felt like a sacrificial offer about to die or be tortured.

"You must be Oliver," he looked up from the mess of papers on the table. Walter Dale looked completely stressed out - with his crumpled shirt, glasses and tousled hair. I could almost see a resemblance to Jackson. Papers of different documents littered out on the wooden dining table and the pen he held formerly glided across each of them.

"Yes, that's me," I said tensely, my hand tightly clutching the strap of my backpack. All for dear life.

After that talk with Brennan, he had called me nonstop that I had to shut down my phone. Finally, I decided to go when Mitch convinced me because we weren't doing anything productive after all. I didn't want to, really, but either Mom or Dad would have given me an earful and the Dales were expecting me.

Mitch had volunteered to go with me inside the gates, but I realized that if we both died, I wouldn't have someone to run my Facebook and pretend to be my ghost.

When I had entered the house, it was dark and eerie - too intimidating. The living room and kitchen were empty, with no sign of the boys' ruckus, blaring music or Maira. It was then in the dining room where I had found Walter, who was working on some papers.

Walter Dale didn't seem like what I thought of him. He was messy, sleep-deprived and out of focus. And I thought he carried himself tall and proud like my own father. But then, this could be what he was behind closed doors, inside his own house. It was unusual, for a powerful man to appear vulnerable away from the prying eyes of the media.

It made me more curious of who Walter Dale really was.

I took little steps forward, trying to get at least a little peek on what he was working on. After all, snooping around for Dad was what I was sent here for. I only got in a few words, such as names of his employees and dates - not much useful information. I averted my eyes before he became suspicious.

"Do you cook well?" Walter asked, looking back at his work - he was signing them. I tensed up once again and folded my hands behind my back. It was as if one small move could ruin my life.

"The boys seemed to think so," I replied, "Also Maira."

"Do you know the reason why I hired you?"

"To cook for the family and help me earn some money?" It seemed like a question.

Walter looked at me pointedly, like a 'don't-care' face. I would laugh if my blood wasn't running as cold as ice. I sighed then answered again, softly, "Because of Maira's cooking."

He nodded, "You've tasted it."

I laughed shakily, "It's okay, really." Another pointed look. He was so nonchalant.

I cleared my throat. "So you'll be cooking dinner. I expect then that it will be tasty," said he.

"Yes, I promise." I nodded. Number one on my list right now could be impressing Walter. Otherwise, I was good as roasted and fired.

"Please, take a seat," he motioned towards a chair. Obediently, I sat and propped my bag down on the floor. Honestly, I would rather be with the boys right now, watching whatever stupidity they were up to. Or else I'd rather be in the kitchen, making snacks or starting up dinner.

"The boys are treating you well?"

"Fairly, yeah." I bit my tongue for lying. Those two were a whole lot of level in complicated.

"Maira?"

That brought a smile to my face. "She's really nice. I admire her, actually."

"The kitchen?"

"So beautiful."

Walter seemed to allow himself to relax. He took a deep breath, leaned back, and let go of his pen. He massaged his head then leaned on his elbows on the table. "Oliver. You do know the complications of working for us, don't you?"

I blinked. "I think so."

"If the press or anyone for that matter ever gets hold of the fact that you're working here, we will be in big trouble. One wrong picture with the fitting words, they can turn normal things into scandal. It has been an elaborate subject that we never hired staff to work for us since years ago, so this kind of thing can blow up everything. That's why, I've put up extra security for that." And I'm sure Dad had, too. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, of course," I nodded.

"Good." That elicited a breath of relief. Was it over? Or was there more?

The sound of footsteps attracted my gaze. Maira stepped into the dining room, as stunning and as composed as ever. I reminded myself to ask her for a bit of her powers. She stepped towards the tall windows and drew the curtains to let a bit of sunlight seep in. I squinted my eyes.

"Why are you working here, Walter. Not in your office?" She handed him a stapler and other materials. "Seriously, it's dark and stuffy in here."

I spotted a gleam in Walter's eyes as he smiled up at his wife. They looked so in love. I turned my eyes away, pretending to be interested in my fingers. A prick of envy pierced through my insides.

"Ollie," Maira looked at me, "You're here. I didn't expect you to come until later."

I shrugged, "Brennan called me. Said he was hungry."

Maira snorted as she plucked a stray piece of hair from her face. "That boy, I swear. We have chips and snacks in the kitchen - oh, Oliver, you shouldn't have bothered."

Heck yeah, I shouldn't have.

"It's okay, Maira. It's my job, anyway," I assured her. When in truth, I had half the mind to strangle Brennan as soon as I found him. I wondered if he had finished eating Jackson yet.

Then, she turned back to her husband, "Go to your office. Look at you, we have a guest and you're going around looking like that." Walter only grunted and shook his head, muttering reasons and excuses. My eyebrows rose - there was a hint of Brennan in him, too.

"It's going to be renovated tomorrow, remember?" He said to her, looking down again on the papers. His hand moved quickly as he handled the pen. "Had to move all the stuff out."

"And the other rooms aren't functional?"

"I like it here."

She smacked his head to which Walter chuckled. A smile tempted to tug on my lips. I didn't know a married couple could be so . . . Full of love. I had known it to exist only in the movies, where everything was utterly peachy. But the Dale family? An epitome of perfection. No serious sibling rivalry, no separation, no divorced parents.

Maira trudged over to a table, fetched a glass of water and then handed it to me. I took it gratefully and drank in one gulp. I had been feeling a little lightheaded lately and the little nausea was bothering me. "I was wondering - uh - where the boys are," I told them, setting the glass down.

"Oh right," Maira nodded, "They're in the game room. It's the first door to the left after you enter the one from this room. They're noisy, so you might find them easily."

"Thank you," I abruptly stood up, "I'll start dinner in a few or so."

"Take your time, Ollie," Maira called out as I disappeared from the room. Coming out was like a breath of fresh air from that constricting atmosphere. Walter seemed nice, though not exactly like Maira, but there was still something about him that unsettled me. When - if - I get caught, I had this gut feeling that he would be first to throw me into hell.

If Jackson didn't do it first, that is.

I easily found the room, not because of the noise but because I ran into Jackson as I winded through the hall. Not only was the second floor bigger but also their basement. I would have been stuck in that maze of doors if Jackson hadn't spotted me.

"You just arrived?" He crossed his arms over my chest.

"Yeah. Had a talk with your Dad. He's quite nice." I licked my lips. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Brennan sent me to get you," his eyes moved upwards, "Or a snack from the kitchen if you weren't there yet." Ah, so Brennan had made him a slave when no one else was around.

"That lazy ass," I muttered. I grabbed Jackson's hand - a bold move - and dragged him with me through the corridor. I followed the sounds of video-games and opened the door to find Brennan playing Just Dance.

What a wonderful sight.

"Okay, bro," Brennan approached us when he sensed our arrival, "When I meant you get Ollie for me, I think it's already implied that she has food with her."

"I'm not your babysitter, or your personal assistant," Jackson pushed me out of the way to crash on a beanbag. He pulled his bag and began reading - how he tolerated it, I didn't know.

"So you met Dad?" Brennan stood before me now.

"I'd rather not repeat the experience," I blew out a breath and put a fist against my forehead. My head was slightly throbbing now, hurting me to know end. Maybe they have some painkillers here or medicine. That would be nice.

"It's alright," said Brennan, "He's cool. You get used to him after some time." He strutted back over the game and swung his hips. My face twisted in distaste. How many rinses to my eyes could it take to make them pure again? His dance moves were ridiculous.

"I want cake, a big chocolate cake." I could almost imagine his eyes lighting up as his back was turned to me. "Sweet chocolate cake. No, wait. I change my mind. I want pie . . . No, I had that yesterday." I put my hands on my hips as he rambled on about his choices.

"Okay," Brennan pivoted and said to me, "Just make me a smoothie - I know there's a blender lying around in the kitchen."

"Is that your last request?" I asked him, "The minute I finish the smoothie, if you change your mind again, I'm going to dump it over your head."

He held his hands up, "Not my hair, Ollie, not my hair."

"What flavor?"

A smile graced his face, "Strawberry, please." So he wanted it pink and fruity. How cute – I would prefer chocolate myself.

I turned to Jackson, "You?"

He looked up from his book and then closed it. "I'll go with you," he stood up, "I'll get what I need." At least he knew how to use his feet.

Jackson grabbed my hand and we ventured out the door. I stared at our hands. I had just taken his and now he felt comfortable holding mine - amazing. "Sweets, I can't exactly drag you through this hall," Jackson stopped, tugging at my hand, "Why aren't you moving?"

"You're holding my hand," I stated calmly.

"You felt brave holding mine a while ago," he said casually. "It's just hand-holding, Ollie, grow up." I couldn't help but laugh a little. This was his excuse? As if I was going to disappear and get lost if he let go of my hand?

He guided me out of the hall and back up to the house. As soon as we reached the kitchen, I rushed towards the counter to start on dinner and Brennan's beloved smoothie. "You want me to make anything for you?" I asked Jackson as I rummaged through the cupboards for ingredients.

"No thanks," Jackson had grabbed a chocolate bar which he was now munching on as he leaned against the counter. "I came with you for another reason."

As soon as I took and gathered the things needed for the smoothie, I set them beside the blender. Those would have to wait for later. I needed to start dinner first. I set the stove and took out the cutting board to slice some meat. "I was still wondering why you're here. I still have my suspicions. Why, after these years, would they hire someone?"

"Stop that, okay?" I told him firmly, "I'm here because I needed a job. And as to why your father hired me, I think you know the reason for that."

"When I first saw you, there was like something . . . Wrong with you," he began. I told myself to ignore it - ignore whatever he said, but not necessarily not listen to him. "You know Brennan too well, you were too confident on your own, but there was something you were worried about. When Mom asked about you, you were quite hesitant to answer, and there was that reluctance."

I chided myself not to appear anxious - weak. If there was anyone who could discover why I got this job, mostly likely it was this one. I said nothing and continued cutting. I rubbed my head, feeling the throb coming in again.

"I remembered one of our last ones to work here," he continued, "A driver - I was twelve then. He seemed well enough during his first days, but then he got a little weird. He started snooping around and became irritable. He even snapped at me one time. It didn't take long for him to steal the car and run away."

I kept my mouth shut, when inside, it was complete chaos. My chest was threatening to shout at him, to stop speaking and implying what I thought he was implying. I wanted to run a hammer to my head to keep it from hurting. I wanted to chew on my lip until it bled. Was he saying that I was some kind of criminal? That I would steal from them?

"Not long after, there was another. A maid who cleaned the rooms. She was silent and went anywhere, cleaning. Finally, when we went on vacation, we got home to find almost half the jewelry and antiques gone. It took almost half a year to find her and imprison her. Then there was a gardener who almost took Brennan for ransom. Almost."

"And there was this stuck up babysitter. She revealed news to the media - it was madness. It took a while to calm the crowds down and extra security had to be added. I guessed after those, my parents didn't think it was right to trust anyone else to be inside the house - even with Mom's cooking. According to them, there were a few others before that. But what matters, sweets, is that do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

He was close now, so close, as I chopped the meat fiercely. I was almost losing focus, because intense feelings clawed at my stomach, ripping it to shreds. I wanted to say something - anything - but I was afraid that even a slight move of my lips could send me to tears. I wasn't a strong girl all the time. He had the audacity to say that I was a thief, and he wasn't wrong. But the fact that he was putting me down in such a low level made me angrier.

Mom and I weren't poor, but we weren't rich either. Dad sent enough money, to keep our lives and the shop running. But I always looked at my sisters - they had everything. And me, the girl who had been chosen by her mother, who still had Reynolds blood running through her veins, was in the background. I always found it unfair. Because I knew I wanted to be out there, too.

Jackson hit a low blow.

"Do you understand?" Jackson repeated.

I opened my mouth. No tears. But there were still the emotions flooding me, killing me silently. I allowed myself to form the words slowly. "No," it tumbled off my lips softly.

"You're going to be the same. A thief. A liar. Even if you didn't want it to happen, there will always be people pushing you to do things that only you could be blamed for."

He wasn't wrong. He wasn't wrong. He was not wrong.

"But of course," he stepped back, giving me a slight breath of fresh air, "I'm not too sure of that. So I'll do a bit of . . . Studying before I could confirm."

And just like that, he walked away.

I dropped the knife I was holding, almost cutting my finger in the process. I angrily washed my hands and shook them to dry. Leaning against the counter, I put my head on my hands. I would not cry. I couldn't let them see me cry. I took deep, heavy breaths and massaged my head slowly.

I couldn't let his simple words crawl on my skin. I had cooking to do. And that was more important.

I headed to the blender before I could lose myself.

♫ ♫ ♫

I stood aside with my hands behind my back as the Dale family settled into the dining table. The food was laid out in the center, its smell curling upwards. After the creaking sounds of the chairs receded, Maira stared at me, "I thought I told you already that you'll be always eating with us."

I wanted to lift my eyes up but I was afraid to meet Walter's eyes . . . and Jackson's. That boy's words left a mark in my mind and it still hurt deep down. "Sorry," I apologized, "You know, you're one whole family there. I don't want to intrude."

One whole perfect family. Eating together. Without food fights.

"Stop saying that," Maira shook her head and waved me over, "Come on here now, Oliver."

I pulled out a chair for myself when really, I was in no mood for eating. I know - shocking. But my head was still hurting and I had spaced out more than the usual today so I wasn't sure if my stomach could handle anything inside it. Still, I scooped up my own serving and dumped the food on my plate.

"You have no problems with the boys, Oliver?" Walter suddenly piped up. I had no choice but to look up and look at him straight in the eyes. For a split second, my eyes snapped up towards the two boys, who were eating silently.

"No, not really," I lied, "They're fun to be with."

"Lying again," Jackson said, "Your usual habit." He eyed me in a way that made me remember our conversation in the kitchen. I averted my eyes - it was like my family's usual dinner together, but there was the lack of Montana and the presence of Jackson, which was worse.

"Jackson," Maira called out threateningly.

"No, Mom, can't you see she's always like that?" His words put a cold pit on my stomach. I sipped a glass of iced tea to calm myself. "I wouldn't be surprised if one day she'll run away with our possessions - "

"Jackson, she's not like the others!" Maira shouted.

So it was true - there were people who tried to steal from the Dales, blinded by greed or blackmail. I pressed my lips together as the sounds of Jackson and Maira arguing blurred in my ears. I took a deep breath and told myself to calm down.

"She's hiding something, Mom!"

"You have no right to say that. We picked her for a reason!"

For a reason. For a reason. For reason.

What reason?

"That's absolute trash coming from your mouth, young man -"

"I'm telling the truth!"

"I can't believe -"

"Who are you going to trust, Mom, your son or that thing?"

I felt like curling into a ball and rolling around in despair. At the same time, I felt like smashing a plate on top of Jackson's head. I jumped out of my skin when I felt something touch my hand. Turning to my side, I saw Brennan giving me a concerned look. I only shook my head and pulled my hand away.

I guessed he knew what I was feeling. That I felt so low and useless for causing a fight in this family. That I felt like it was my fault the shouts were going back and forth. That it pushed deeper inside and ripped out something because their raised voices reminded me so much of . . . Of my parents.

"She's a thief, Mom. You can't possibly - "

"Jackson, stop this right now - "

"No, you stop and listen - "

"She's not going to do anything - "

"How would you know that? Did you even have a background check on her?"

"I don't need to. I completely trust her - "

"And not me?"

Maira, stunned, fell silent and stared at his son. "That's enough," she said lowly and dangerously that it reminded me of Mom. It was Jackson who surrendered, bowing his head low and concentrating on his food instead. The house basked in a loud quietness that it made my head throb even more. I glanced down at my plate; the food was barely eaten.

"So," Walter cleared his throat, "The food tastes sweet."

"Too sweet," Brennan said, eating another spoonful. Then he glanced at me, as if that comment alone would blow me up. "But I still like it," he added.

Wait, too sweet?

What?

I pushed the spoon into my mouth and really - really - tasted it, with my tastebuds studying it properly. "Oh my God," I almost dropped my spoon, "I didn't mean to. It was an accident . . . I mean."

I felt like completely collapsing into sobs as I swallowed, "I guess I was out of focus and I accidentally swapped the salt with sugar. I'm so sorry." I looked at each of them. So this was the final test and I failed it for Walter Dale. Could I perhaps crawl under the table without being judged?

They all just stared at me until I yelped when a loud ringing burst from the kitchen. "Excuse me," I said shakily, standing up, "That's my phone." I dashed towards my bag and reached for it. Mom was calling.

Seeing her name felt like a surge of comfort. I answered it and slipped outside through the glass doors for a breath of fresh air. The night was cool and the stars were out. But I was slowly crumbling.

"Mom?" I managed in a small voice.

"Ollie? Took a while for you to pick up. Two missed calls," she said. I was breathing normally now.

"We were having dinner."

She laughed, "This late? I thought you'd have dinner earlier. How different from our rituals."

Mom and I ate dinner quite early than the usual. After that, my stomach would find time for dessert and an after-dinner snack. But anyway.

"Mom." Then I repeated in a whisper, "Mom." Tears coated my eyes, at the edge of tumbling down my cheeks.

"My head hurts so much," I croaked, "I haven't eaten well today - "

"Ollie!" She gasped, "Why haven't you been feeding yourself? What did you do this morning?"

"Well you see - um," my voice dropped into a lower volume, "Maira Dale's cooking is - um."

"Alright, I get it. I get it. What about this lunch?"

"Sandwich." It was an awful sandwich. "I had homework."

"Didn't you eat at Mitch's?"

"Only pudding."

She sighed. I imagined Mom rubbing her jaw. "And dinner?"

I furiously wiped the corners of my eyes until they burned. Dinner was what I wanted to forget. "I cooked, Mom," I shook, "I got sugar in it instead of salt."

She cursed. Straight through the phone, without caring that her daughter was hearing it. "Come home, now." She said sternly, "I'll cook you up something big. Your father may have forced you in this but I don't want it getting in the way of your eating habits. Home. Now."

"Yes, Mom." If there was one thing she hated, it was me missing my meals and getting less food. She was the type to stuff a child with anything edible if she could.

After hanging up, I madly ran towards the kitchen where Brennan stopped me. I pushed him away and went straight for my bag. "I'm going home now. Tell your Mom thanks."

"But Ollie, are you okay?"

"Fine," I pushed him out of the way again and blew a strand of hair from my face. "I'm incredibly fine."

"Let me drive you home - "

"No, Brennan. I'll take a cab."

I ran out of the manor so fast that I almost flew. One thing and one goal were in my mind and that was to eat food. I almost tripped while getting into the cab but there were more important things than cuts and bruises.

Food - the priority.

Stopping in front of the closed up shop, I practically threw the bills on the driver and then I got out. Huffing and walking fast towards the back door, I slammed it open and looked around the empty shop. The lights were turned on in the kitchen.

I threw my bag aside and knelt on the floor. That was when the dam broke and the tears came flooding.

♫ ♫ ♫

I'm sorry if the chapter is plain and lacking. We're only warming up here.