The Virgin Wars

Chapter 5

"Peyton!" my father yelled from downstairs.

Two days had passed since Graham's party; two days without contact from the Outside World. Instead, I wrapped myself in my thick comforter — despite the overwhelming Californian heat that paraded through my open windows. My fan was turned on to its maximum speed and my hair, matted with grease, stuck up in odd angles.

"What?" I yelled, removing cookie crumbs from my bed. "Dad!" I called out. Without receiving a response, I knew this was my father's way of telling me to get my lazy butt out of bed.

"Coming!" I swung my legs over the side of my bed and sighed. The play Nathan had given me was still sitting on my bedside table — untouched and lifeless. The pyjamas I wore stuck to my skin and my feet made sweaty padding noises as I paraded down the steps of my home.

My father stood near the front entrance, wearing a black baseball cap that read Anderson's Bistro and a black top that possessed the same logo. During the year my father taught at a community college, but as soon as summer rolled around and made an appearance, he loved to do nothing more than to open his small restaurant on El Jolla beach to serve his famous Cuban style sandwiches.

His receding hairline was covered by the cap, but his greying black hair poked out from the sides. "Hey, Princess. Did you sleep well in the past, oh, I don't know, fifty or so hours?"

"Fabulously," I mumbled with a hint of sarcasm.

"What's with the major lock down, sweetheart? Should your mother and I be worried? It's summer and exams are over. Isn't this when you kids get down to business and strut your stuff? Do your shin-digs?"

"What does that even mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't speak hip." He paused. "You have two options, Peyton. Shower and come to work with me, or you can shower and get out of this house to get some vitamin D. God, you look like a hospital patient."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, father. You always know how to make your daughter feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"You know I tease you because I love you. I am serious about that shower though. You smell like wet dog." He ambled towards me and splashed a sloppy kiss onto my forehead.

Without another word, he closed the door behind him and left me — along with my god awful stench — behind.

My older sister, Mallory, entered right on cue.

"Hey, Pepper Peyton." She was holding a water bottle in one hand and a small cloth in the other. Celeste may have scared the young kids in elementary out of calling me that nickname, but there was no one who could ever intimidate Mallory Anderson.

She was tall and brooding. With one glance, you would never be able to tell that we were siblings. She possessed dark features, like my father. The large, wide-set doe eyes, and the tanned olive skin. If you looked closer, you would see that we had the same square jaw, the same aligned teeth and the same turned up noses. Besides those very unimportant features, nothing connected us physically. Or mentally.

"Hey, Ducky the Buckie," I said in a sour tone.

Mallory stopped and narrowed her eyes. "No need for cruel names, sis. I was just tugging your leg." Ducky the Buckie was a nickname a boy named Tommy came up with when Mallory was in high school. Before her braces, her teeth were somewhat crooked and bucked. As soon as he uttered those words, Mallory came home crying for braces and got exactly that.

She always got everything she wanted. And the only problem was that no one saw a problem with this. The world could be served on a golden platter and it still wouldn't be enough for Mallory. She would ask for the galaxy or for the entire universe.