“Can you guys be careful? Please?” I call over my shoulder after narrowly avoiding tripping over my two brothers, having to grip the banister to keep from toppling down the stairs. They really needed to find some where else to hang out, as it was clearly too dangerous there not only for them but for anyone going up or down the stairs. I guess everyone else had adapted to it, because I'm usually not normally home during the week, so I haven't adapted to it myself. But the storm was keeping me trapped here, barred in a prison. “Albeit a nice, loving, caring prison,” I chuckle halfheartedly, as if such a place existed. At least the weather had finally settled down now; wind and rain the only two sounds remaining outside. The thunder and lighting part of the storm seems to have finally deserted us.

 

My initial destination was the kitchen before I got distracted at the stairs. As I had nothing to do, I decided to make lunch for everyone, like I usually did during the weekend, but was stopped by Mel, who was still in engrossed in Sleeping Beauty. God help her if she finds someone in life who couldn't be as absorbed into a fictional world as her, getting pulled into the very pages and becoming the very character in the book.

 

“Hey Cody, what are ya up to?” she asks as she walks up to me, eyes pleading like clear, glowing gems. Clearly she wanted something, which was typical of her. She usually came up to me over the weekend asking for things like cookies or croissants-her personal favourites-and I'd usually oblige because it would allow me to test and challenge myself to baking different things. I've tried to get her to try snickerdoodles once upon a time, but it was to no avail. She defiantly had a sweet tooth though, taking sweet after sweet off of a plate I'd sit on the coffee table while reading, blatantly unaware as to what she was doing because she was so accustomed to it. Double God help her find someone who baked AND loved reading.

 

“Just going to go make some lunch for everyone,” I shrug; it was the honest truth. “And besides, since I don't have school today that doesn't give me the reason to let my skills fall short. I'm going to try a 5 cheese lasagna with 4 different meats today. Maybe add in some different variety of vegetables,” I tell her nonchalantly, trying to conceal a smile starting at the corner of my mouth.

 

She nods at that point, only half paying attention to what I was saying. It was things like this she had a short attention span for, yet she burned rubber through books, a literal race car in the Indy 500. Just this year alone she's managed to all ready read over 60 stories, and we're still only in the beginning. “Why do you ask? Need something?” Or want something, I don't say out loud, my mouth curling even more into a smile, already picking up on where she was going with this. She was good at reading a book, but I could read her better than anyone else in our family.

 

She then starts to lean back and forth with an innocent expression on her face, her eyes darting in every direction but mine before saying, “I was just wondering if you could... maybe make some... croissants? Please?” she finishes, her pleading eyes brightening and shining, almost like light reflecting off of diamonds.

 

“I guess I could,” I tell her, a huge smile quickly brightening her face, her teeth matching the shine in her eyes. Despite the sweets, she's kept pearly whites. “You go on and read, they'll be out soon.” I rub the top of her head and with a quick nod she dives right back into her book, carefree attitude returning. When she was out of ear shout I whisper, “Mel, you are one weird sister,” before heading into the kitchen.

 

Taking a deep breath I head around the round counter in the center and open the cabinets on the wall opposite it just below the knife and spice storage counter top. Inside I navigate from left to right for a tall pot for the sheets of noodles, and then the large, glass lasagna pan. I also grab the deep frying pan to cook all the meat in as well as another, medium sized pot for the sauce. Then kicking the cabinet door shut with my foot-my hands preoccupied-I set the everything down on the center counter then head over to the pantry to grab the dry lasagna sheets. When I turn around, Chantelle is sitting just opposite from where I set the pots and pans down. Man was she sneaky.

 

“Cooking without me?” she asks with a hint of playfulness, head cocking to the side. “You know I love helping you cook. It feels strange helping on a day you usually go to school though.” Without another word, she jumps down from her stool and goes to the spice rack, just above the knives. My eyes follow her to it before looking back at where she was sitting; she already had the vegetables and most of the cheese out. She really did know me too well. But then again, I've made this a few times before, and only one time was without her help. I wonder if she plans on following me in the same career choice. I had never really asked her, as she was young and desires like this usually fizzed out as they grew. At least for most people...

 

Once she returns and sets down the spices, all put in a convenient, 2-layer carrier with removable levels, as well as the cutting board. She then gracefully goes over to the knife rack and grabs the smaller of the two main cutting knives. She may be experienced for her age, but I still only allow her to use the smaller one or mom would kill me. When she returns, she sits down and begins cutting then abruptly stops before looking up at me, an expectant display on her face, as if waiting for high praise for a job well done.

 

“What?” she asks, trying to stifle a smile. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“No, nothing at all,” I tell her, shaking my head back and forth and smiling. Half the time she didn't need my help, which allowed me to focus on other things-usually my thoughts-even though I did that just as well while cutting things up myself.

 

Leaving her to the cutting, I head over to our deep freezer just outside the back door next to the pantry-which was thankfully protected by an overhang-and start shuffling through all the meat within it. I've used a lot of various combination from sausage, hamburger meat and deer meat to lamb and chicken. I didn't know what I was in the mood for today. I couldn't clearly think about it either because for some reason I had Aurora on my mind.

 

“Why am I thinking about her,” I ask myself, temporarily closing the deep freezer. “And why does my head hurt?” I put my hand to my forehead and massage it, trying to dissipate the pain. It didn't hurt when I thought about her before, when I was trying to remember how I blacked out. Why did it hurt now when I was thinking about her and not that glowing crystal? I didn't get to think on it for very long before the screen door behind me clicked open. I quickly released my forehead and spun around expecting to see Chantelle. It was Cindy, looking like she walked into a private moment.

 

“Cindy?” I ask, slightly confused. “What are you doing out here?” A look of hurt and pain crossed her face, replacing the half smile she had on moments before I asked. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut. She grabbed her left arm with her right before replying.

 

“I just wanted to say thanks again, and that mom was looking better. Both Chantelle and I agreed on that. Also, sorry for sending her your way.” She jesters toward the kitchen, like I've forgotten who we were talking about and where she was. “She heard you banging together pots and pans and stuff and asked me if she could go help you. You don't mind, right-”

 

Before another word reached my ears, my hand shot up to my forehead once again, the pain sharper than before. And before I knew it I was doubled over in sharp, knife-cutting-into-your-skin pain. It was like a constant, loud ring. I didn't even have time to prepare this time to try and resist it, to hide the pain and go somewhere else where I could be alone until it passed. To not have anyone worry about me. But I couldn't here, not in front of Cindy as she was witnessing this. There was no hiding it from her now. Soon after it started, she ran over next to me and bent down, placing one hand on my back and the other hovering just in front of me, as if expected to make a move at the last possible second if I were to fall over.

 

“Cody?! Cody, what's wrong?” she ask frantically, tossing glances between the screen door and me. I tried to focus on making words, to will my mind to tell her something, anything that would calm her down. Yet it wouldn't listen, the pain cutting off my brain from forming any word between ragged, heavy breaths. All I could do was focus on her, and even that took every ounce of my energy that wasn't reeling from this pain to do so. She was probably wanting to yell for Chantelle, the closest person to us right now, but I had to tell her not to. I had to speak, had to tell her to not let them know. Focusing on using the bit of energy I could, I push out the word “don't”, pain coating it completely, slurring it. So much pain...

 

“But you're hurt!” she yells at me, protesting at the thought of not yelling for help. But the truth was, I didn't need it, didn't want it. It came and past quickly enough on its own as is that it wasn't worth the trouble of bringing everyone else around me down with them. It was bad enough I had Cindy to worry over me. Cindy who had more than her fair share of things bringing her down like our mom and quite possibly her future. “Why shouldn't I get help?” The question was asked with nothing but concern echoing from her voice, taking an intense amount of concentration to clearly hear what she said.

 

“Just... I don't want them... worried about it,” I tell her, the pain finally subsiding. When it fully dissipates, I remove my hand from my forehead and begin to stand with Cindy's help, still feeling a little dizzy. She doesn't move too far as I walk back over to the deep freezer, opening it and pulling out a few choice meats like nothing happened. Hopefully it stayed that way. Closing it, I turn back around and find Cindy still standing there, her gaze piercing me with worry and a pinch of anger. A few moments of silence pass between us, rain slowing as the loud pitter patter above us starts to subside. She then opens her mouth to speak but closes it right after, probably discarding the thought of sparking an argument. She then turns around, heading back toward the screen door. She stops just after grabbing the handle and starts speaking without turning toward me.

 

“I don't know what's going through your head, Cody, but I do know one thing. You can trust me not to tell anyone; that's your job. But don't think I'll forget that this happened.” Those were her final words as opened the door and let it close shut behind her, leaving me and the meat outside, lost to the beat of the rain and the chill of the wind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you really going now that it's slowed down?”

 

The storm finally died down to a light wind and spring like shower by late this afternoon, shown by people finally emerging from their homes, like a tornado just swept through town. The storm lasted clear until the afternoon as well, streets semi-flooded with at least 6 inches of water, at least according to the weather channel that was still on going in the background. Cocoa and I hadn't yet turned it off. We managed to keep ourselves entertained for the most part by watching an anime while flipping back and forth during commercials to keep an eye on the weather channel while eating a bowl of caramel popcorn. It felt like time slowed to a crawl throughout it all, but it was the first time in a while that Cocoa and I really had a day together, and I guess I was being a little selfish. It did feel like we had gone back in time, to a point before Aurora where we could be ourselves, laughing and enjoying each others company.

 

“But why do you have to go now? Isn't it already past a decent time to go over there anyway?” I throw my hands in the air exasperatingly as I throw myself back down into the couch. Cocoa had promised Aurora she'd go over there, and apparently she was keeping that promise. It was so like her, and one thing about her that I admired.

 

“I'd do the same for you, Random,” she says as she finishes lacing up her shoes. She took them off earlier when we both figured out we'd be here a few hours if not all day. “And besides, we spent a good chunk of time together, right?” She stands and turns toward me, serious yet friendly expression before saying, “I'll tell you the same thing I've told her: You're my friend, but so is she.” She then grabs her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. “So I got to go, but I got to stop home first. Do you mind if I borrow a jacket?”

 

Not wanting to push the issue any further, I reach into my pocket and pull out a small button. I then toss it to her and watch as she presses into it, causing a windbreaker jacket to spring forth. I had created it after the last freak storm that past through here, thinking it would come in handy. I guess I was right. I just didn't think Cocoa would be the first to test it.

 

“Thanks Random.” She shrugs the jacket on-which happened to be a dark brown colour- and heads toward the door. “I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?”

 

I nod and before I know it she's out the door, it sliding back into place as Tipsy comes out from down the hallway, stretching as if she'd just finished recharging. Sometimes I wonder if I made her too cat like as she flicked her tail side to side before jumping up onto the couch next to me. I instinctively reach out to pet her, running my hand over her fluffy and soft, black fur, thankful that I still have someone to talk to.

 

“Where were you hiding during the storm?” I ask, just now realizing she hadn't shown up the entire time during the torrent of rain and drumming thunder. During her charging process, she's temporarily turned off, so she probably didn't notice anything was going on at all.

 

“I was relaxing in your room, Miss Dadalian. If you recall, you made it so I was powered off while recharging,” she reply’s with a smirk, as if I should have known that. And I did, but didn't let it bother me. My mind was focused on Cocoa, and if it was okay for her to be out in this storm heading over to Auroras.

 

“Aurora...” I mumble, eyes cast toward the window, watching the rain bat against the window from the angle the wind was blowing, hoping she stays safe.