I stand, intending to bring my empty plate to the sink, but Dad stops me. “No, no, no. Sit. Your mother and I will clear the dishes and bring out a little dessert.”
I eye the two of them suspiciously, but do as I’m told. Our routine has always been that I clear the dishes after a meal, so it feels weird to just sit here while they clean up around me.
“You remember that pastry you brought us before school started?” Dad asks.
“Mmm, yes! That almond thing.”
“Well, your mother’s been experimenting, testing out recipes and baking all kinds of things. She’s got a real knack for it, you know.”
“Mom, that’s amazing! Any chance I’ll get to try something over break?”
Dad laughs. “Oh, just you wait.”
Mom hits Dad with the hand towel before grabbing a glass dish from the freezer and bringing it over. “Maybe I’ll have to make enough just for us girls, hmm? Since your father thinks my cooking is such a burden.”
“Hey! Don’t say that. You’ll break my heart, Mari. I’ll waste away into nothing but a husk and be forced to travel this world alone and hungry, never to be fulfilled.”
I snort. “You must be one hell of a baker, Mom.”
She places the glass tray on the table, and my mouth immediately waters. I don’t even know what it is, but it’s topped with drizzled chocolate and peanuts, so I know it’ll be good.
Mom hands me a plate first, then one for herself as she shoots Dad an annoyed look, but I can tell it’s all for show. There’sno way she’ll deny him a slice. And sure enough, she doesn’t. Instead, she cuts him a piece that’s twice the size of hers or mine.
I cut off a chunk with my fork as I try to figure out what it is. There’s a creamy filling with crushed cookies as the base, maybe? “I hope you know how hard it is not to shove this entire bite into my mouth,” I tell her. “But what exactly is it?”
“It’s called drumstick cake. This is the first batch, so please be honest with how it tastes. I deviated a little from the recipe and I’m not entirely sure if it’s going to work or not.”
I’ve never seen Mom look like this before: shy and a little nervous. Especially not about her cooking. Just how much of their lives have I missed while away at school? “Of course, Mom. I’ll be honest.”
“Ready?” She lifts a fork to her lips, clearly wanting us all to taste it at the same time when we finally notice Dad.
“What?” he mumbles through a mouthful of dessert, the slice on his plate more than half gone.
We both roll our eyes and dive in. It’s cold and peanut buttery, with a slight crunch from the base and chopped peanuts. Holy hell, it’s delicious!
“Mom! This is incredible.” I take another bite. “Addictive even. Now I understand why Dad scarfed his down so quickly. Holy shit!”
She preens and puts another bite into her mouth, savoring the taste. Dad and I have long since finished ours before she’s even made it through half of hers. Oops.
I stand, grabbing the empty plates before bringing them to the sink and filling it with hot water. It shouldn’t surprise me when Dad shoos me from the kitchen, telling me to go relax, but his words soothe any ache.
“We’ll get back into our old routine, I promise. But you just got here. You survived an attack, midterms, and whatever else those kids are throwing at you. Just take today, alright, kiddo?”
“Alright. But tomorrow I’m clearing dishes.” I wait for his nod before continuing. “I’m going to go walk off this food, if that’s cool?”
“Of course!”
“Just bring your slate,” Mom says, joining us in the kitchen. “And don’t be out too late. You know the rules.”
“I’ll be back soon!” I shout, grabbing my bag and slate on the way out the front door.
As promised, I message the group chat, letting them know I’m about to explore a little, but I pause before putting it away. Theo suggested I message Zeke too, but is that even a good idea? His reasoning was sound. It’ll look far less suspicious if another Fallen shows up here than it would for a Pure. Sense isn’t a part of this, though. He’s been so fucking hot and cold lately and I really can’t stand for him to ruin my day. With that settled, I tuck my slate away and head right.
It’s strange here. The streets feel so familiar, and if it weren’t for the filth covering them, I could easily forget that I was in the Fallen district. Well, except for how much smaller everything is. The streets are narrower, and the houses are tiny and cramped together in groups. I’m sure it’s nice for my parents to live in a house instead of an apartment, but I’m almost positive our old place had the same square footage, if not more.
No one else is out but me. I walk past crowded house after crowded house, noticing some have their lights on while some don’t. It’s eerily quiet and lonely on the street. Is it always like this? I trip over something soft, but catch myself before I fall. Do angels avoid these streets at all cost because of how disgusting they are?
I keep going, memorizing the turns I’ve taken so I can get back to my parents’ house. Not that it’ll be too hard to find my way. Shit, I can probably follow the tracks my shoes have made in thestreets’ filth. At least it doesn’t smell. Those are small victories, I suppose.
