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Post by soufflé on Oct 28, 2011 21:13:46 GMT -5
I'll be around, especially if the forecast for snow turns out to be more than just a possibility. Oh, yes, snow. I hope it snows, but weather around here is generally quite boring.
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Post by soufflé on Nov 15, 2011 20:58:55 GMT -5
Yay, I finally had time to update this fic, so I did ;D
Next update will most likely be the first weekend of December, but no promises, since my birthday is on the 4th.
I hope you enjoy this chapter, though!
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Sunny came late to school the next day. She ran quickly across the snowy lawn and into the large glass building, sporting her large bag and her brand-new white arm cast. Since the only time the hospital could accommodate her was eight o' clock, she had had to miss a portion of school. Luckily, she had arrived just in time for third period.
She couldn't focus during history, for her mind had not strayed once the entire morning from the idea that Olaf could be related to Jake.
There is absolutely no way I can tell my siblings about him now, she thought. They would never let me see him again.
Sunny sighed and tried once again to pay attention to what Mrs. Rivera was scrawling on the board, but soon gave up and quickly copied everything down, making a mental note to read the chapter in the textbook when she was less anxious.
She sat quietly at lunch, still deep in thought. She wondered whether Jake knew all of things that Count Olaf had done--he had to, did he not? Perhaps he just couldn't recognize Olaf in the photograph.
Or maybe the father really was just "some rich, in guy."
"Hey, there you are," Jake chirped as he settled into the chair across from her.
"Hi, Jake," Sunny replied glumly.
"Is everything alright? Besides, you know, your arm. I'm assuming the cast is why you weren't in geometry today," he said.
"Jake, when you were talking about your father..." she trailed off, staring out the window at the snow.
Jake's face fell. "Do we have to talk about him again?" he griped. "I'm sorry for griping, I'm just still very upset about the matter."
"I know, Jake. And I’m really sorry but...can you just try to describe to me what he looked like? Please? Was he...tall?" she prompted.
Jake sneered. "Tall, thin, and ugly. Kind of...grimy-looking. But I assumed that he was rich, because he was wearing one of those pin-stripe suits that rich people ten years ago liked to buy."
Sunny gulped. "Did he have...one eyebrow?"
Jake was quiet for a minute in thought. "Actually...yes, I think so," he answered tentatively.
Sunny's face would have fallen, if it hadn't already fallen the night before.
"Why? Do you know the guy?" Jake asked, arching an eyebrow.
She nodded. "I think--although I would need that picture to be sure...I think your father is Count Olaf," she told him sadly.
His mouth hung open. Then he put his head in his hands. "Oh no," he said. Then he raised his head, and his expression was now one of anger. "I can't believe I'm related to that jerk. I never really knew what he looked like, but Mom sometimes talks about how 'great' he was, and how she would help him set fire to buildings. It's terrible. I knew they had been friends a long time ago, but I guess I never put the pieces together."
"It is terrible," Sunny agreed, picking at her lunch.
"And...I need to make sure you know something," Jake said, turning to look straight at her.
"Yes, what is it?" She looked up at him.
"I just want you to know that I'm nothing like him. I promise," he said earnestly.
She sighed. "I know you're not. But...if my siblings found out that I'm friends with Olaf's son...I might never be able to see you again."
He nodded. "That's why I didn't want you to introduce me to them. I thought they might think I look like Esme. And now...maybe Olaf."
"You don't look anything like Olaf, thank goodness," Sunny assured him.
Jake gave a small smile. "That's good to hear." He shuddered, as if remembering the photograph of Olaf and Esme.
"Our families can never know that we're friends," Sunny said.
"You're right. It's awful. I wish we could hang out more outside of school." Jake sighed and took the first bite of his hotdog.
"Well, you could meet my family. They most likely won't recognize you. Esme just can't see me, nor can Carmelita, since they've met me and my family."
"Okay, well that makes things a bit easier," he said, smiling.
"Why don't we start today?" she suggested.
"Start what?" he asked, looking up from his lunch tray.
"Why don't you meet my family today?" she repeated.
His smile grew bigger as he said, "Sure, why not? I've got time."
"Great! I'm sure they won't mind you coming over. Just...be careful what you say." She sipped her water.
"Of course. Anything for you," he said, his smile now back to the usual full-scale grin.
When Violet's car pulled into the school circle, Sunny and Jake both rose from the bench and walked across the lawn to meet it. Sunny squinted as the bright winter sun glistened off the snow.
"Hey, Violet?" Sunny said as she opened the car door.
"Yes?" her sister replied.
"Do you mind if my friend here comes home with us? His parents' car broke down so they can't pick him up," she lied.
"Oh, sure. As long as he doesn't mind riding in the backseat with all of these tools," Violet said.
"Great!" Sunny turned to Jake. "She says you can come along, as long as you don't have a fear of metal objects in large quantities."
He laughed and opened the door. "Okay, thanks."
"So...Jake, are you and Sunny together?" Beatrice asked with a giggle, looking up at them from her desk.
Both Sunny and Jake turned bright pink.
"No, Beatrice, we aren't," Sunny said. "Come on, Jake, let's go to my room." They both stepped out of Beatrice's room and started down the hall.
That Wednesday happened to be the first time Sunny had invited a boy over to the Baudelaire house, and Beatrice was getting extremely excited about it. When they had arrived at Beatrice’s school to pick her up, she had immediately begun firing questions at Jake. Sunny thanked heavens that the ride home was less than ten minutes.
"Leave the door open!" Beatrice called. "We don't want any funny-business!"
Sunny rolled her eyes and closed her bedroom door behind them.
"Sorry about her," she told Jake. "She really likes...drama."
He shrugged. "It's fine. Sisters can be like that."
She nodded and sat on the blue striped bedspread. "I'm sure living with Carmelita is far worse than living with Beatrice." She gave him a look of sympathy.
"Yeah, well, I guess that's why I'm here and not at home with Mom. It seems that Carmelita and..." He shuddered. "...Olaf are all she can talk about sometimes. Mind if I sit here?" He gestured to the rolling chair by Sunny's wooden desk.
She shrugged, as if to say, "Go ahead."
He sighed as he used his foot to spin the black chair around. "Can I live here now?" he joked. "I like this chair."
She laughed and said, "I wish."
"So," he said, making another rotation in the chair, "you've told me so many things about your life, but I still feel like I don't know anything about you. Favorite color?"
"Blue, as you can probably tell from my room," Sunny replied, leaning back against her pillows. "Favorite candy?"
"Snickers. Favorite band?"
"Death Cab for Cutie. Favorite animal?"
"This is difficult." He sat back in the chair as it slowed its spinning. "I'll have to go with panda."
"Pandas are pretty cool," Sunny agreed. "What is your...favorite--"
The doorbell interrupted her question.
"Dinner is served!" Sunny heard her brother call from the first floor.
"Sounds like Klaus is home," she said, turning to Jake.
"Okay," he said, spinning the chair around again. As it slowed, she noticed that his eyes were beginning to dart around the room.
"Are you ready?" She stood up and walked over to the desk.
He nodded and smiled. "I'll just be my wonderful, charming self. He'll love me."
They both laughed and began to walk downstairs.
"So, Jake," Klaus said, twirling some spaghetti onto his fork. "What are some of your hobbies?"
"I like to read a lot," Jake replied, sipping his water.
"Oh," Klaus said, sounding impressed. "What's your favorite book?"
"I really enjoy reading Greek Myths," Jake said. "I've liked Homer a lot ever since I read The Iliad in seventh grade."
"That's great." Klaus smiled.
So far, so good. They like him. Breathe, Sunny told herself.
"I also like photography, which is one of the reasons I decided to apply to Boston Arts last year," Jake continued.
"That's interesting," Autumn said, cutting her pizza carefully. "I've always admired photographers. The way they capture certain moments in time can be really beautiful."
Violet nodded in agreement. "I tried photography back in middle school, but I could never figure out how to develop the photos correctly. Luckily, there are more digital cameras now."
Jake smiled, looking pleased with himself.
They like him, Sunny repeated to herself. I just hope he doesn't screw it up. But...I trust him.
"What do you take pictures of?" Beatrice asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
"Usually nature."
The image of the girl on the bed flashed into Sunny's mind, and she felt as if someone had stabbed her in the stomach. As the green monster of jealousy started to take over, she gulped her milk, trying to suppress it.
She moved away. Relax. He's here now. He...likes me, she told herself.
And I like him. The only problem is that our families hate each other.
What? She gulped down some more milk as Beatrice began to talk about her math test score.
This isn’t a Shakespeare play, she thought. Her eyes drifted across the table and met Jake’s. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered.
But it’s pretty damn close.
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Post by Invisible on Nov 16, 2011 11:59:18 GMT -5
Ooh, Sunny is starting to develop feelings for Jake! Ooh!!!
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Post by soufflé on Nov 17, 2011 6:56:58 GMT -5
Haha, yes she is. We'll see what happens next...
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Post by Hermes on Nov 17, 2011 9:31:34 GMT -5
I especially like the line about 'how she would help him set fire to buildings'. As one does.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 17, 2011 10:55:17 GMT -5
I was sensing a Romeo and Juliet connection between Jake and Sunny long before I read her thoughts about the Shakespeare play. Eery! ;D
I really enjoyed the scene with them talking about their favorite things. I certainly would not have objected to their discussion continuing on a bit longer.
I am glad that Jake seems to be fitting in well with Sunny's family. Hopefully nothing will happen to spoil it!
Lucky for Jake not to have been cursed with his father's single eyebrow. Not like Emma, who is teased mercilessly by the other kids for it.
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Post by soufflé on Nov 19, 2011 7:52:56 GMT -5
Lucky for Jake not to have been cursed with his father's single eyebrow. Not like Emma, who is teased mercilessly by the other kids for it. Aww, poor Emma. That must be dreadful. I sympathize for her Thanks for the feedback ;D
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 23, 2011 10:22:22 GMT -5
Aww, poor Emma. That must be dreadful. I sympathize for her It is. Of course, she also inherited her parents' tempers, which can be a bad thing as much as it can a good thing when it comes to defending herself. ^^ You're welcome!
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Post by soufflé on Dec 25, 2011 0:37:18 GMT -5
I thought you all might enjoy some Christmas fluff, so here you go! ;D
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As the days wore on, Jake's visits to Sunny's house became more frequent, and the Baudelaire family enjoyed his company more and more with each encounter. He had even shown them some of his photographs from his folder (excluding the one of his ex-girlfriend), and, to Sunny's relief, his identity was still concealed.
However, on one particular afternoon, this was about to change.
This day, a Wednesday to be exact, was Jake’s fifth visit to the Baudelaire household. He and Sunny were in her room, lying on her bed on their stomachs, studying for their upcoming Biology test.
“So, if this kid’s parents both have a dominant and a recessive allele...does he have blue eyes or not?” Sunny asked, looking at her class notes.
“Well, if we make a Punnett square,” Jake explained, drawing in the margin of her paper, “you can see that he has a fifty percent chance of get one dominant and one recessive allele. Now look at these.” He gestured to the other two genotypes with his pen.
Sunny furrowed her brow as she looked at his diagram. “But he can also have both dominants and both recessives.”
“Right,” Jake said, making a note in the diagram. “So he has a seventy-five percent chance of not having blue eyes.”
“Oh, I get it,” Sunny said. “And if one of his parents had both recessive alleles...wouldn’t he have a fifty-fifty chance of having blue eyes?”
“Exactly,” Jake replied with a smile.
“I guess that’s what happened to me,” she said, smiling faintly. “My dad had brown eyes, and my mother had blue eyes.”
“You got lucky,” he said. “I like your blue eyes.”
“Thanks.” She smiled back at him, closing her notebook. “Well, I think we’ve got enough studying done today.”
“Yeah, we have a week until the test anyway,” he agreed.
Just then, Sunny’s bedroom door opened slowly, revealing Beatrice standing at the threshold.
“Oh, hey,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
Sunny rolled her eyes. “I told you. We’re just friends.” Sunny didn’t notice Jake’s smile wane slightly.
“Well, I came here to see if you guys were finished with your homework. I need help with something, and Violet can’t help me, because it involves cooking. And you know what her cooking is like.”
Sunny nodded, grimacing slightly at the thought of her older sister’s cooking. “Okay, we’ll help you.”
“Yeah, I’d be glad to,” Jake agreed.
“Okay, come on!” Beatrice said, turning to run downstairs.
Sunny looked over at Jake. He shrugged and rolled off the bed.
She walked over to the door, chuckling. “Come on,” she told him.
“Alright,” he said, catching up with her. “Let’s do some cooking!”
“Okay, I need to make three dozen cookies for a basketball game tomorrow. I’ll get the ingredients. Sunny, you can mix the batter with one arm, right? Jake, you can help me put them on the cookie sheets. I’ll stick them in the oven. Alright?” Beatrice told Sunny and Jake as they came into the kitchen.
“Sounds like a plan,” Jake replied.
Sunny walked over to the kitchen sink to wash her hand, as one ought to do before baking, and Jake followed suit (except he washed both of his hands).
“What kind of cookies are we making, Bea?” Sunny asked as she grabbed the wooden spoon from the cabinet.
“Those cinnamon-ginger ones. Your old recipe,” Beatrice replied as she searched for the sugar.
“You cook?” Jake asked Sunny.
“Oh.” Sunny blushed. “Yeah, I used to when I was little.”
“And she was good at it, too!” Beatrice added, measuring a cup of sugar and dumping it into the mixing bowl.
“Well, I guess we have a five-star chef in the kitchen with us,” he said, grinning. “Although she is slightly handicapped at the moment, I think she’ll make some damn good cookies.” “We’ll see,” Sunny said with a laugh.
“Do you think you can beat the eggs with one arm?” Beatrice asked, placing a whisk on the counter next to Sunny.
“Probably,” Sunny replied. “I’ll give it a go.”
Soon enough, the batter was mixed up in the bowl, and Jake and Beatrice were rolling pieces of dough into little balls. They then placed them on the cookie sheet, while Sunny sprinkled sugar on top of them.
“Are they done?” Jake asked, looking over the cookie sheets.
“They will be, once they’re in the oven for five to ten minutes,” Beatrice replied, smirking.
“You know what I meant,” he said. He laughed and put on a pair of oven mitts.
Once the cookies were in the oven, Beatrice slapped the oven mitts onto the counter and said,
“I’m going to go IM with my friend for seven-ish minutes, so I’ll be back to help take the cookies out. I hope you kids can manage being alone with a hot oven for a bit.”
“I think we’ll be okay,” Jake assured her.
“We’ll see.” She winked and ran back upstairs.
“Okey-dokey then,” Sunny said, walking over to the sink to clean the dirty supplies.
“Here,” Jake said as he joined her. “I’ll do it.”
“It’s fine, Jake,” she said. She grabbed the dish soap. “I’ve got this.”
“I insist.” He was wearing his usual grin.
“Fine; we can both do the dishes,” she said, flicking a bit of soapsuds at his chest.
“Do you really want to play this game?” he threatened, inching toward her.
“Hell yeah.” She stepped closer to him with a handful of suds.
“But you’re handicapped,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to...hurt you.”
And they nearly simultaneously threw handfuls of suds at each other. Sunny dove behind the counter island, brushing the bubbles off of her shirt. Jake quickly snuck up behind her with another burst of suds. She laughed and threw some back at him. His eyes glinted and he began to chase her around the kitchen.
She squealed as he caught her around the waist and pulled her into a hug. She grinned and turned around to brush the suds out of his hair.
“Alright, the cookies should be...why are you guys covered in soap?” Beatrice asked as she reentered the kitchen.
They responded by bursting into laughter.
“Okay, whatever. Help me take the cookies out, please.” She walked over to the oven as she put on the oven mitts.
“I think all the soap is gone,” Sunny said, brushing the rest off of Jake and herself with a giggle.
“Great,” he said, helping Beatrice to take the last of the cookies out. “Wow, these smell really good.”
“Yeah, Sunny’s recipes never fail,” Beatrice said, placing the cookies on the rack to cool.
“I would never except anything less than greatness,” he replied, looking over at Sunny. She beamed.
“Well, thanks for all your help, guys. Time to get cracking on my English paper,” Beatrice chirped, exiting the kitchen.
“No problem,” Sunny called after her. She turned to her friend.
“Screw cooling,” Jake said. “I have to taste one of these.” He took one carefully off the rack and took a bite.
“How is it?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Hot,” he said, with his mouthful. He swallowed slowly. “Excuse me. Hot, but still tasty.”
She laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”
He smiled. “Beatrice’s basketball team will be happy.”
“Hopefully,” she replied, nodding. “So...maybe we should actually wash the dishes now.”
“Good idea,” he said. “Just one thing.” He took a step toward her.
“Okay,” she said, smiling. “What is it?”
“There’s a little bit of soap in your hair.”
And she was enveloped by the smell of cinnamon as he pressed his lips against hers.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Dec 27, 2011 12:46:04 GMT -5
AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
Hehe, sorry. ^^ It's just exciting to see the two of them give in to their hearts and finally kiss.
I really enjoyed the nice balance of comedy and romance in this chapter. As well as the conversation between Sunny and Jake over their homework, and seeing him cook with the two Baudelaire sisters. And Sunny is still a whiz with the whisk, I see, even with one arm. I'd forgotten she'd broken it, until I saw it mentioned here.
Since Violet lacks culinary skills, it's a good thing for Sunny's talents in the kitchen, or else this poor family might very well starve!
Beatrice's remark about Sunny being alone with Jake and a hot oven was hilarious! Beatrice such a little smarty-pants. XD
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Post by Invisible on Dec 27, 2011 13:24:20 GMT -5
I agree with Emma's "Awww." ^_^
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Post by soufflé on Dec 28, 2011 23:40:52 GMT -5
I'm glad you guys liked it.
By the way, Emma, I love your new banner! ^^
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Dec 29, 2011 9:29:37 GMT -5
You're welcome, Sophie, and thank you for the comment on my banner. I watched Deathly Hallows Part 2 on Friday for the first time, and that charming little scene inspired me to want to create some graphics.
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Post by soufflé on Dec 29, 2011 22:08:52 GMT -5
I watched Deathly Hallows Part 2 on Friday for the first time, and that charming little scene inspired me to want to create some graphics. Oh yes. I loooove Lily and Snape x)
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Post by soufflé on Feb 27, 2012 21:42:43 GMT -5
YAY an update! Drama, and things fall apart. Be warned.
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The doorbell rang at seven o' clock, while Klaus was serving everyone a bit of Mexican food from a restaurant downtown.
"I wonder who that is…rarely anyone comes by after six," said Violet, rising to answer the door. She cautiously peered through the door's peephole and gasped when she saw who it was on the other side.
"Violet? What's wrong?" Sunny asked tentatively, putting down her burrito.
"Let me in!" an obnoxious voice called from the porch.
Jake gasped and quickly excused himself from the table. Sunny followed him down the hall into the library.
The library in the house was small and pleasant, and books were in stacks so high that one could barely see the walls at all. There were a few old, comfortable, brown leather chairs that sat in the corners. Sunny liked to come in on the weekends and curl up with a book in the sun that streamed through the small windows at the top of the walls.
However, on this night, no light shone through the windows, and the tall stacks of books cast long shadows over the room. Sunny didn't bother flicking on the lights. Jake grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the far corner of the room. Sunny winced as he let go of her arm.
"I'm sorry," Jake panted, gently touching the place where he'd gripped it.
She shook her head. "Who’s at the door, Jake?" she demanded in a whisper. "It doesn't matter. I just know that I'm going to be in huge trouble and probably never see you again. I don't know how she found out... I'm so grounded." Jake pressed his palm to his forehead in distress.
"That’s Esmé at the door?" Sunny asked, her voice rising.
"Shh!" Jake gestured toward the front of the house. "Yes, and now I'm probably going to be taken out of school, so I—"
"Where is he?" a loud voice screamed.
Then came Violet’s voice. "What? I’ve never met your son, all I know is you told me that he goes the Sunny’s school...I—"
"Jacob!"
Sunny saw Jake’s eyes widen in fear.
"Jake, I—" she started.
Her words melted away as he leaned forward and kissed her. She let him press her up against the bookshelf, wrapping her arms around his neck. Suddenly the door to the library banged open, and as the two broke apart they saw Esmé sneering at them from the threshold.
"Jacob Squalor!" she cried.
"Esmé," Jake squeaked in reply.
"We’re leaving," she said sharply, turning on her five-inch heel. "Follow me."
Jake gulped and trailed forlornly after her. Sunny shuffled beside him.
In the front hall, Esmé turned to look icily at Sunny. “You will never see my son again,” she said. Each word felt like a stab in Sunny’s stomach.
Jake met Sunny’s eyes frantically as his mother pulled him out the front door. “I’ll call you,” he mouthed.
Sunny bit her lip and nodded slowly.
When the Squalors had left and Esmé’s expensive car had zoomed off, Sunny turned to look at her family. Her older siblings looked betrayed, Alan and Autumn looked befuddled, and Beatrice looked as heartbroken as Sunny was.
“Who was that?” Allan asked, breaking the silence.
“Esmé Squalor,” Klaus answered.
“I’ll explain later,” Violet told him, walking back toward the table.
The remainder of dinner carried on in silence, until Violet remarked quietly, “It’s a shame, you know. Jake seemed like such a kind, intelligent boy...”
“They’re always intelligent,” Klaus scoffed.
“Just because he’s related to Esmé doesn’t mean he’s not kind or intelligent,” Sunny replied, her eyes on the napkin in her lap.
After a pause, Klaus asked, “Why did you lie to us?”
“I didn’t lie,” Sunny answered.
“But you didn’t tell the whole truth,” Violet said.
“What does it matter, anyway?” Sunny demanded, pushing back her chair with a screech. “He’s nothing like Esmé!” Or Olaf, she added in her mind.
“Sunny, it’s just not safe to be around him. He could be in cahoots with people like Count Olaf!” Klaus cried.
“This isn’t fair,” Sunny said. “Count Olaf’s been dead for years, anyway.”
“He might take after Jerome, anyway,” Beatrice piped up. “A-Assuming that Jerome is his father...”
Shut up, Beatrice, Sunny mentally commanded.
“Sunny,” Klaus asked warily, “Who is Jake’s father?” He could obviously see the guilty look on her face.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sunny sputtered. “Jake isn’t like them...”
“Who is he?” Klaus repeated.
“He’s dead,” Sunny said quickly.
“Tell me who he is! Don’t lie!” Klaus yelled.
Sunny winced. Klaus had never raised his voice at her before. “He’s Count Olaf,” she muttered.
“Who?” Violet asked.
“He’s Count Olaf, okay? Are you satisfied?” Sunny cried testily.
“Sunny, you’re not to see Jake again from now on. You’re...um, grounded,” Violet said slowly.
“How could you be so close-minded?” Sunny demanded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “This isn’t fair!”
“Sunny, please go to your room,” Violet said quietly.
Sunny scanned the faces of everyone at the table in front of her. Most of them looked down to their plates silently. Beatrice was the only one who would meet her eyes. Sunny’s eyes pleaded for help, but Beatrice just shrugged, as if to say, “What can I do?”
Sunny took the stairs two at a time to her room. She collapsed on her bed and buried her face in the large blue pillows. This isn’t fair, she repeated to herself over and over. This is not fair.
After what seemed like an hour, there was a soft knock on her door. When Sunny didn’t answer, Beatrice quietly let herself in.
“Hey,” she said, settling herself at the foot of Sunny’s bed.
Sunny wiped at her eyes and sat up. “Hi.”
“Yikes,” Bea said when she saw her sister’s face. “You’re all red and puffy.”
“I know,” Sunny replied, wiping at her face again. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Come here,” Beatrice said, giving Sunny a hug. Sunny lay her head against Bea’s shoulder, and for once Beatrice didn’t mind her shirt getting stained from Sunny’s tears. “I know. I know. It’s not fair,” she reassured her sister.
“I’m never going to see him again,” Sunny moaned into Beatrice’s shoulder.
“Hey,” Beatrice said, sitting up straighter and looking Sunny in the swollen eyes. “Don’t say that. You can still see him.”
“How?” Sunny asked, sniffing loudly.
“Sneak out,” Beatrice said simply, as if she did it daily.
“But...but then Violet and Klaus...they’ll be even angrier...”
“You won’t get caught. Trust me,” Beatrice declared. “I’ll cover for you whenever necessary.”
Sunny smiled faintly. “Thanks, Bea. I’ll see.”
“I should go,” Beatrice said, rising to leave. “See you in the morning.”
“’Night,” Sunny replied, sinking back onto her pillows.
Sneak out? she repeated in thought. She would never get away with it. She decided to only do it if she hit rock bottom. But was this rock bottom?
Maybe, the voice in her head answered.
I’ll see how I feel in the morning, she decided. Maybe, hopefully, this was all one awful dream.
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