07 | Past Curfew

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On Wednesday morning, I didn't wake up to the obnoxious ringing of my alarm, but from a loud crash coming from downstairs. It jolted me awake, forcing me to sit up in bed and rub my eyes furiously. When the blurriness subsided, I turn toward the window and see the sun was in the process of coming up. I reached over to the bedside table and grabbed my phone, clicking the home button to see the time: 6:58 AM.

Seeing as school started at eight, there was no way Luke was up yet, so there was only one possible explanation. I jumped out of bed with a grin on my face, skid across the floor in my socks, and bound down the stairs quickly. When I reached the bottom step, I ran into the doorway of the kitchen to see my mom there, cooking breakfast. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail as her hazel eyes focused on the sizzling bacon in the pan.

"Mom!" I squeak excitedly.

She turns to me and matches my smile immediately, turning down the stove to a simmer so she can open her arms and hug me. "Oh, honey, I missed you so much."

Like a little child, I ran over to my mom and gave her a bear hug. I hadn't seen her in the past week thanks to a book signing she had in Chicago, which left Luke and I alone for awhile. My mom and I have been close ever since my dad left when I was ten; lately, she's been extremely busy because of the success of her most recent book, Blink. Blink quickly turned into a best-seller last year, and ever since, she's been balancing book signings, interviews, a household, a new book, and her kids. 

My mom was often flying around the country for different book-related activities, so as the oldest sibling I took it upon myself to help out around the house. I cooked dinner for Luke on the nights we didn't order take out- which was admittedly not often- and maintained a clean house so when she came home, she wouldn't be overwhelmed. Whenever she came home, though, she picked up right where she left off, making us breakfast before school and packing our lunches.

As I pull away from her, she waves toward the counter and instructs, "Sit, breakfast is almost ready."

I easily abide her instructions as my stomach already grumbles for the bacon and eggs she was cooking. She gave me a quick smile before tending to breakfast again, and I felt all of my previous sleepiness fade away when the excitement of having my mom home again set in. 

"So, how has school been?" Mom asks casually as she shuffles around the stove.

Different. "You know, same old, same old." I feel bad lying to her, but the topic is a little difficult to explain at 7 AM, so I avoided it. "How was Chicago? Did any cute guys come to your signing?"

She laughed heartily. "No, I'm afraid not. But Chicago was lovely; Dianne and I stayed at a hotel that offered a free spa. I was living large all week."

I sighed dreamily, thinking about the prospect of a massage to relieve all the built up tension from the past few days at school. "That sounds incredible. So, I take it Dianne is good, then?"

Dianne is my mother's agent and close friend. They spent most of their time together when they were traveling for book signings and interviews, and they were the same age, so they got along great. My mom nodded before the click of the stove turning off sounded, and I eyed the bacon as she slid it off the pan and onto a plate. 

A moment later, she turned around with a plate that made my mouth water. A ham and cheese omelette and bacon were on the plate, and she was quick to add the small bowl of fruit beside it. Mom turned around to pour me a glass of orange juice and then placed it in front of me with a smile still on her lips.

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