“Hi, daddy. I’m home.” I shouted as I entered the front door to my house. I took out my coat and placed it on the wooden coat rack to my right.

            “In the kitchen, darling.” My dad called out over the sound of Phil Collins ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’.

            “Not again.” I ran towards the kitchen before he could put anything on fire like he did last time.

            “How many times do I have to tell you to not try to cook your own food?” I snatched the giant plastic out of my dad’s hands dressed only of a Hawaiian short and shirt with the buttons undone. I turned the stove off since whatever he was trying to make already started to burn without him noticing.

            “I was hungry. You don’t want your old man to die of hunger now, do you?”

            A ping of guilt ran through me as the words left his mouth. I can’t believe I was so selfish that I forgot to make him something this morning before I went to school. I knew he couldn’t cook on his own.

            Sensing my inner battle, dad drew me in for a hug. “Don’t worry honey, it’s not your fault that I can barely boil an egg.” He chuckled. “I think both your grandmother and mother spoilt me by never letting me near the kitchen.”

            A faint laugh escaped my lips trying to relieve my heart’s tight squeezed at the mention of my mother. It had been a few years now since she left us but the wound hadn’t healed yet. I was beginning to think that the pain had become a permanent part of my soul. Dad hugged me tighter probably trying to get rid of his constant heartache. We stood there for a while before a soft meow ruined the moment.

            Ughh! I hate that thing. I can’t wait for its funeral which should be any days now judging by the light in its eyes.

            “Why don’t you go watch TV while I make us dinner?” I suggested, pulling away.

            “Ok.” He started to walk in the direction of the living room but he stopped half through the door. “Are you sure you don’t want my help? I can boil water perfectly you know.” He asked feigning innocence.

            “Go sit.” I pointed at the couch facing the television.

            “Your loss.” He said turning his back on me.

            I whirled around to start on dinner but instead came face to face with a pair of sad, deep gray eyes. A small shriek escaped my lips.

            “Out!” I shooed the poor animal. He gracefully lipped off the contour to go join my dad on the couch.

            I’ve always been more of a dog person but my dad was to attach to our cat to let it go. It reminded him of mom so he kept it with him everywhere he went. And I meant everywhere… bathroom included. I really should not be thinking of bathroom when I’m about to make food.

            I had no idea what I was going to cook. I took a look inside the pot my dad had on the stove. There was some black gooey substance mix with vegetable. I can’t even tell what he put in it. Yes, it was that bad.

                                    ______________________________________

            “Buuuurp! Thank you.” My father let out after he finished his entire glass of Coke in one sip. Then he lifted up his gaze towards me with a challenging smirk on his lips.

            I raised my eyebrows as to say “Seriously?! A baby can do better than that.” I took a long sip of my Coke then slap my chest for effects.

            “Buuuuuurp! You’re welcome.” I grinned at him.

            “Wow! I see how it is,” he lifted his hands up in defeat. “I’ll get my revenge next time.”

            “Keep wishing, loser.” I grabbed the dirty dishes then went into the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher. I placed the leftovers inside the fridge. After, I was done I turned to see my dad had already regained his post facing the television with Fluffy on his lap. I was about to join them when my phone vibrated in my pockets.

            “’Sup, foxy?” I answered after checking the caller ID.

            “I swear Nicole Sara Craig if you don’t stop calling me that I will not hesitate to serve a life sentence in prison.” I laughed at her exaggeration as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom.

            “Come on, it totally suits you. Every definition of it describes you. You’re a young and beautiful woman who has reddish hair.”

            “How many times do I have to tell you that beautiful and reddish does not belong in the same sentence?” She strained out through gritted teeth.

            “Danm girl, I thought I had self-esteem issues.” I teased, jumping on my bed. I saw Roxie’s flaming red hair as her best asset but she totally loathed it. She’s been trying to dye it but there was no way her mother would let that slide. I would love to have been a ginger. Scarlet hair and freckles are simply irresistible.

            “Girl, you’re a brunette. You don’t understand the misery of having hair that looks like carrot.” She groaned. “I want to try dying it but I know my mother would go all Bruce Willis’s R.E.D on me if I do.”

            “Bruce Willis is a pretty good actor. Die Hard is the bomb.” I rolled on my bed, a loud shriek eluding my lips as my back collided with the hard floor. The soft carpet didn’t even take out an inch of the pain.

            “Nikkie, Nikkie, Nikkie, why aren’t you answering?” Roxie shouted through the phone that was now under my desk. I crawled carefully on the floor to retrieve it so that my fragile bones don’t suffer any more damage.

            “I’m still breathing.” I groaned letting my body fall on the worthless carpet.

            “Did you fall off your bed?” She quizzed me.

            “Ummm, noooo. I just…I just, huuuh.” I needed a lie quickly so I don’t look like a complete moron who falls off her bed. “I was practicing my karate skills. I have to do it every day, you know. So I don’t fall out of shape.” I stammered.

            Yeah, Karate skills. That should do it. People fall over doing Karate, right?

            “Nikkie, you were born out of shape and you’ve never done Karate once in your entire life.” She commented. “Lord, Nikkie, you are the only seventeen years old I know who still fall on her bed, and watch Phineas and Ferb every freaking morning.”

            “Stop dissing on Phineas and Ferb, it’s a classic animated show about two adventurous brothers and their bitchy big sister.” I defended.

            Uff! I heard her let out an exhausted sigh, “how did a perfectly normal conversation ended up being about the theme of a Disney show?”

            “Hey, you brought it up!” I raised my left hand in defense as if she could see me.

            “No need to raise your hand. I’m not judging you.” She assured. “Well, maybe a little.”

            “Hahaha, I have to go anyway. I have to start on my college applications or Ms. Miles is going to have my intestines for dinner.”

            “See, that’s it right there, that’s the kind of pictures I hate when you give me. Why couldn’t you just let me picture Ken McCall shirtless?”

            “THAT is disgusting. I’m hanging up now.” I said before pressing the end button on my phone.

            Before I began the humongous amount of work that was waiting for me, I went back downstairs to get a couple of water bottles. I tend to drink a lot when I’m doing boring hard work, a category in which college applications shine. As I passed the living room, I could hear my dad’s deafening snores. That explained why he didn’t hear me fall off my bed earlier.

            I took out five bottles of water out of the fridge juggling them in my hands while trying to see my way to my bedroom. I dropped all of them on my desk as soon as opened the door. I walked up my closet to change from my school clothes. I’m not taking a shower before I’m done with all I have to do because I’m pretty sure I might end up sweaty by the time I’m done. I certainly don’t want to have to take two showers in less than five hours or go to sleep with my sweat.

            I took off both my ocean blue pullover and my white T-shirt then replaced them with my black T-shirt with “property of NSHSS” written in the front. It was two sizes bigger than me but I’ve always felt cozier with clothing that are too big for me. Then, I slipped a dark gray hoodie over it. I also switched my dark blue jeans for an overused gray sweatpants. The distance between my closet and my desk was too long for my lazy self so I took a shortcut by jumping on the bed then jumped off on the other side. I settled in my electric blue desk chair to start with my brain-smashing night.

I turned on my computer and the smiling picture of a striking blonde appeared. This was the last picture I had of my mother before she left for good. The light blue eyes that I inherited from her were glowing as she watched the photographer (probably my dad) with a playful smirk on her red plump lips. My mother was addicted to red lipstick, I don’t remember ever seeing her without red lips. From her look in the picture she was unmistakably thinking of pulling a prank on my dad as she waited for him to finish taking the pictures. My mother’s jovial nature is what I wished most I had inherited from her. After she was gone, I spent weeks wondering whether I could have made her stay if I had not been so depressing. I thought maybe my moody attitude is what drover her over the edge and made her run out of our life.

            Suddenly, the screen turned black. I stayed frozen for a fraction of a second before I registered what had happened.  I didn’t even realized that I had been staring for that long. I shake my mouse to bring the screen back up, this time I didn’t even spare a glance at my jolly mother. I went straight to John Hopkins University’s site.