Chapter 16 - still

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Kara

"Kara," my dad called out from the kitchen. "I finished folding the laundry. Could you bring mine to my room and Dylan's to his room?"

"You can say please."

"Kara, sweetheart, will you please raise me until I'm eighteen? Pretty please change my diapers when I poop myself. Please make my breakfast, pack my lunch for school, cook my dinner, please give me a bath and clean the bathroom while you're at it because I spilled all the shampoo on the floor. Will you please provide a roof over my head?"

I laughed. "Okay, okay. I got it."

"Oh, but I'm not done yet. Will you please..."

He kept going with his scenarios as I walked away, rolling my eyes and laughing. I put my dad's laundry away first, but not before I sorted all of it properly. He was really bad at that. I chuckled when I spotted a bluish sock that used to be white.

When I was done, I sorted Dylan's, then held my breath before opening the door to his room. It usually reeked of unidentified things.

I was right. I pulled the blinds up, opened the windows to air his room out. Cool, fresh air danced in the room. Better. Next, I picked up his pillow from the floor, snapped his blanket in the air and made his bed, then decided to remove everything. His bedding needed to be washed. I cautiously avoided the spiky and sticky landmines littering the floor.

I placed my hands on my hips.

Why the hell am I doing this?

Because you love your brother, hello?

Right.

I let out a loud sigh. I looked up at the knock on the door. It was my dad.

"Ah. So that's where that smell is coming from," my dad said, eyes laughing as he took in the scene. "Are you still alive in there, Kara?"

"Barely. I need to carpet bomb his room. Does he ever clean it?"

He raised his brows in reply. I sighed again.

"I'm going to stop by at your Aunt Elisa's quickly," he said, picking up the dirty bed linens I dropped on the floor. "I'll put these in the wash. By the time I get back, the soup should be ready. Just turn off the stove after fifteen minutes, okay? Do nothing but turn the stove off, okay?"

"Okay."

"Tell me again what you need to do, Kara Koala."

"Dad!"

He laughed. "All right. Don't burn the place down."

"Right."

When I heard the front door close, I rolled up my sleeves and put away Dylan's clean laundry, picked up the clothes strewn on the floor (I had no idea whether they were clean or dirty, but they all went in the hamper), comic books, shoes, and piled them up on his desk.

Normally, I'd give him a lecture if he was around and give him the eye until he started cleaning up, but since he still wasn't home, and since I hadn't spent a lot of time with him lately, I figured I'd do him the favour.

His bedside table was littered with empty wrappers of chocolate bars and junk food. I grabbed the trashcan and froze. In it was a flyer of online gambling. Why would he have this? I fished it out of the trash, frowning at it. Then I spotted the pizza coupon below it, the ads for yoga and several others.

I sighed in relief. What was I thinking? That my brother suddenly started gambling? Ridiculous. He didn't even have money.

My alarm went off, telling me to turn off the stove for the soup. I was scooping vegetables in a bowl when I heard the front door open.

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