Angeltown | *DISCONTINUED GAY STORY WIP butmayremakeonnewaccount*

Chapter 12

Once they got home, their parents gave them tasks to do and their workstations in the kitchen. The cabinets had somewhat of a bracket-formation, with two extra walls that separated enough to allow an opening, and which lined among them were stools. Quint was assigned right at the stove to cook, with his sister behind him to his left. She hummed while mashing meatballs together in a bowl. His mom was washing the dishes while his dad was cutting vegetables.

"Q, why is this called Italian Wedding soup again?" Jamie asked, turning from her workstation, "We're not even at a wedding."

"Oh, mom said that's a really bad translation of its real name: Minestra Maritata," Quint whimsically responded.

"Minestra what?"

Quint laughed at her confusion. The kid giggled too, "So what does it actually mean?"

"So that was the literal translation, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"So basically, it's meant to say that it is a joining of flavors, that's the 'wedding' part."

"Woah, that's actually really cute."

"The funny thing is how it isn't even for Italian weddings," Quint scoffed at the thought, "It would make sense if it was."

"Well that's dumb," The little girl laughed quietly, then went back to mixing meatball mix in a bowl. Quint smiled, then continued to stir the saucepot, spreading the olive oil around the bottom. Then he tossed in the onions his mother cut, humming quietly. After several minutes, Jamie handed him over the meatballs. He just took some plastic gloves and wrapped parts of the mix into balls, placing them into the soup.

Then the time came to add extra ingredients, Quint looked up at the cabinet. He could see through its glass doors that it had 3 shelves, the topmost which he remembered that a bottle of basil leaves was on. The topmost, for Christ's sake...

He opened it, trying to reach for where he believed the bottle was. But even on his toes, it was hard to get at least two inches into the third shelf. "Why does the shelf have to be so high...?"

And why do I have to be so damn short? He asked a second time, but internally. Well, he wasn't too short, around 5'7, but that still didn't help in this situation. Then he was startled as he felt a glass surface touching the tips of his fingers. He grabbed it, realizing it was the basil bottle he was looking for. Quint looked up to then see Scott's notebook and a pencil in front of him, standing beside the stove. It was taunting him with the message: Shortie.

"Shut the--" Quint couldn't help but laugh quietly in embarrassment. He took the book and placed it face-down to hide the message.

"Hm?" He heard his dad far behind him. The teenager turned around, "U-uh, nothing, dad. I just remembered something from last year... heh."

"Oh-oh!" Mrs. Andrews excitedly chimed in, "Remember when Quint walked out of the school on his final 4th-quarter exam in Grade 1, beaming in pride because of how confident he was in his scores?"

"Mom..." Quint laughed, rolling his eyes as he sprinkled basil leaves into the soup, "You always talk about when I was in 1st Grade."

"Because you're a mama's boy!" Jamie lightly slapped a wooden spoon into the side of his head, grinning.

"Hey!" Quint gently elbowed his sister, laughing slightly harder.

"Oh, and you're not getting away with it either, little girl," Mrs. Andrews rubbed Jamie's hair.

"No, no... just don't talk about the time--" She raised a finger in protest, but that did not deter their mom.

"You won your second-grade art contest, a contest that invited the entire school, why wouldn't I talk about that?!" The woman bragged with a grin. Jamie groaned out loud at first, then slightly smiled at the memory. Quint knew she was right to be proud of that.