𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬

2: A C T

C H A P T E R  T W O

The morning sun was hitting my face when I was in the kitchen. It was so quiet, I don't hear anyone else besides my quiet footsteps. I wanted to be by myself, I needed to get used to being alone.

It felt rude if I rummage their refrigerator. This wasn't my place to help myself. Unless if I was told I can get what I want, then I will help myself.

I just sat there, looking around my new surroundings. There was a huge window where the big kitchen marble table was at. The whole kitchen had a warm tone feeling. I take a seat at the island table, my head on my hands.

"Good morning, Irene." A soft voice chirps, when I opened my eyes I see Brielle. "How was your sleep? Are you hungry, you fell asleep before you can eat."

I smile at her kindness, "Well good morning, I-um slept pretty nice. I felt pretty tired last night and I guess I am hungry."

She smiles and begins to open her smart refrigerator, "Would you like to make crepes with me?"

I was shocked, to be honest. I was thinking they had some cook. I was surprised that they cook themselves. Maybe I was letting my head get filled with stereotypes.

I pulled the sleeves of my shirt, "Sure."

"Great!" She exclaims while taking out the ingredients and places the strawberries and banana towards me. Then, she hands a knife and cutting board towards me.

I watch as she begins mixing the ingredients while I was nervous to start cutting the fruits.

"Don't be shy." Brielle loudly says now beginning to turn on the stove.

Without thinking much, I begin cutting the strawberries and bananas.

"Well, how are you feeling today?" Brielle questions me.

I slowly bring my head up to look at her, "I'm okay, just trying to get used to this."

She hums softly, her focus set on the crepe on the pan. "I'm sure you will like Stryker High. Though I'll have to warn you, some of the people aren't too fond of poor people."

I felt a pang hit in my heart, "I expected that." I whisper as I just finished cutting a banana.

"But, you will just have to fit in. You're just going to say you're my cousin who was studying abroad in England." She casually says and I begin to question this explanation.

Would people try to figure out my truth? Would they wonder why I don't have an accent? What if I failed and I disappoint my aunt and cousin. Was I suppose to have an accent?

I chuckle to myself, "That will crumble down when they find out I'm from Pennsylvania."

She stops herself from pouring the batter on the pan, "Which won't happen because I'm your amazing cousin who won't let anyone get to you."

I smile at that and let myself finish cutting the bananas, while she finishes the crepes.

Finally, we were done and we heard loud clicks of heels tapping on the marble floor. By the door frame, my aunt Celeste was standing there. She smiles brightly at us, "What is it today, Mother's Day?"