Making It Out Alive~JUST UPDATED

Chapter 9:Home Sweet Home

"You're sweeping too slowly," my mother scolded, grabbing the broom from my hand and pushing me aside. "Go tidy up the bathroom again, while I do this."

Yep. This is how I managed to spend--more like waste--my time on a perfectly beautiful, summery Saturday morning.

I knew my mom was just stressing out about making the living preparations absolutely spotless, but man could she be annoying. I mean, really? 'Go tidy up the bathroom again'? Once is enough;twice is just overdoing it. But I couldn't object or else I'd let out the beast within my mother again. So instead of objecting, I scurried off towards the bathroom to do as I was instructed.

I opened the bathroom cupboard and grabbed a wet towel from inside and started wiping the bathroom counter for the FOURTH time today.

Once I was done, I placed the towel in the laundry hamper and went back downstairs to where my mom was.

"Hey mom!" I greeted, plopping down on the comfy couch in our living room and opening a magazine.

"What are you doing back so fast?" my mother questioned, forcing the magazine out of my hands. "Go back there and clean up some more!"

I sighed. "Fine, mom."

"Good."

Without another word, I headed back up the stairs and grabbed a magazine from my room. I then proceeded to lock the bathroom door shut--if only I had a dead bolt. Once my hands had left the doorknob, I slumped against the bathtub and began to read. Finally, I sighed, some peace from my mother's pestering.

That's probably about when I heard a resonating ding spread throughout the whole house. Great...And I was just about to find out whether the majority of voters thought Taylor's Swift Grammy outfit was too bland. Oh well. Better go downstairs to rescue my mother from a potential heart attack. 

I unlocked the door and glided gracefully--I wish--down the stairs. From the bottom step, I could see my mother taking off her apron and hurriedly rushing to the front door.

She grasped the brass doorknob and turned it slowly--so slowly. I swear I felt myself aging 90 years and turning into ashes on the front entrance's hardwood floor in the time it took her to open the door. But behind the door, there stood Tom, with his buzzcut auburn hair, baggy blue jeans, white long sleeved v-neck, and battered Nike sneakers. He was holding a gigantic duffle bag in his right hand, and in the other, the keys to his Chevy truck. 

My mom rushed to pull him into a tight hug, and Tom dropping his bag on the hardwood floor, wrapped his arms around her in return. And Oh. My. Goodness. Was my mom--the female G.I. Joe-- crying?  Duhhhhhh, as if the tears streaming down her moist cheeks weren't enough proof.... Even I could feel my eyes water a little bit--after all I am just another emotional, hormonal  teen. 

My brother finally broke out of the hug.

"Mom, I think you squeezed the life out of me," my brother announced, dramatically pretending to gasp for lungfuls of air. "I mean, I barely escaped Afghanistan, and now, this?"

My mom chuckled and replied--quite sassily may I add, "Oh, psssh. I did not, and there's more where that came from, Mister."

My brother feigned horror, clutching at his chest with wide turquoise eyes. "There's MORE!?!"

"Yes, there's more. Now, I have to go and make dinner." My mother turned toward me, "Cracker, why don't you show your brother to his room?"

"Can do," I responded.

My mother left the entrance room, leaving my brother and me alone. 

"So how's life been, kid?" my brother asked.

"For your information, I am NOT  a kid. I am an almost grown woman, and life has been o.k. You know, just dealing with mom's temper tantrums and going to school--or what I like to call juvie--for 7 hours a day. "

My brother laughed, a deep genuine rumble escaping his throat. "Nice."

His laugh is so infectious that I can't help but laugh too. It's been so long since I've seen him. I can't believe I'm even saying this, but I've even missed having his repulsive, dirty socks littered everywhere in the upstairs bathroom.

"I should probably be showing you to your room or else mom's going to throw a fit, so yeah...Let's get started, " I said with fake enthusiasm.

Tom grabbed his duffle bag, and we headed up the staircase. Soon, we reached his old room. The room with the plain teal walls, black swivel chair, scratched and abused maplewood floors, and awesome, squishy water bed. The best part about this room, though? There was no PARROT! No bird to wake him up in the mornings with its awful screeching, which it thought was a beautiful symphony. Pshhhh, and I'm a crazy brunette destined to be forever alone. Note:Sarcasm! Wait....That's probably true. O.k., this just got soooooooooo awkward---

"Ahhh, just the way I remember it." My brother looked around with a faint, reminiscent smile. "I remember when we got that water bed. I had to practically get on my knees and beg Mom every night for it. She made me do the dishes and wipe down every single window in this house for two months. And then, when I actually got it, you were so freaking jealous."

"Was not," I contradicted with lots of emphasis on 'not'.

Tom attempted to mimic me in a very offensive girly, high pitched voice. Basically, in Perrie's voice. "Mom, mom, why did you get Tom a water bed. He doesn't deserve one. He's always peeing on the toilet seat. I deserve one 'cause I don't pee on the toilet seat."

I gasped in disbelief, highly offended. "How dare you!?! Apologize!"

"Fine, fine,"he consented, shaking his head and chuckling quietly. "I am sorry, Cracker Cohen, that you don't have a water bed and Mom likes me more."

I glared at him. "Seriously."

"Ok, for real. I'm sorry if I somehow offended you. I'll try not to do it next time."

"Try not to?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Don't push your luck, kiddo...Oh, yeah sorry, I meant almost-grown-woman,"he apologized, his eyes twinkling and mouth lifting up in a bright, blinding smile.

"Whatever,"I responded nonchalantly. 

We sit there for a while in silence, but it's not awkward or anything. It's a comfortable silence, if you know what I mean. Of course, my mom's shouting breaks the silence.

"DINNER TIME!"

And then that of my freakishly annoying parrot imitating her.

"Dinner time! Dinner time! Dinner time!"

Author's Note:

I know I said I'd post come summer, but I've been SUPER preoccupied with family trips, school work, and sports. I actually wrote a lot of this chapter last year (surprise, surprise), but didn't finish it and obviously publish it. If anyone is out there and still reading this, I'd like to aplogize. I AM SO SORRY AND THANKS FOR STICKING BY!!! <3 Feedback is appreciated, and if you liked this story so far, don't be afraid to vote it. THANKS SO MUCH!

-Seeya23