My brows furrow, and I give a little more attention to the papers surrounding my prickly housemate. What could he possibly be doing that would mean we can’t do a house meeting until five? Every other time we’ve needed one, it’s happened as soon as possible—even immediately, in one particularly dire case involving toilet paper and who, exactly, is responsible for stocking the downstairs bathroom.
“I can meet at five,” I say, eyeing him. “Is everything okay? This isn’t about last night, is it?”
He glances at me, shaking his head as he says, “Not really. Well, sort of, but also no.”
Oh. Well. That clears that right up, doesn’t it.
“Okaaay,” I say slowly, digging deep into my stores of patience. “Five, then.”
He nods, and I wander into the kitchen, leaving him to his whatever. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen one of the Vann siblings being weird, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. He can have his weirdness, and I can survive it by locking myself in my room, focusing on the homework I need to do, and ignoring the terribly wormy feeling in my gut telling me that perhaps I should be addressing last nightnow, telling him to never, ever step foot in my room ever again because it’s creepy, but also thanking him because my hair could be in a much worse state than it is right now if it had been left to rub against the cotton of my bedding all night.
What a beautiful plan.
Snagging a cinnamon roll—or three, mind your business—and a cup of coffee, I retreat to my room to commence my studies and avoid house problems. I set my breakfast on an antique tray on my dresser before transferring it to my bed, where I intend to work today, the better to watch a Barbie movie play on my retro TV/VCR combination player. It takes no time at all to pick outBarbie as Rapunzelto keep me company duringthe first leg of homework, popping her into the VCR slot and setting the empty VHS tape box on top of the TV. The sound of static accompanies me across the room to my backpack, then the opening commercials see me to my bed and through setting up my laptop, books, notebooks, pencils, and tiny golden leaf trinket next to my breakfast tray.
The movie begins as I open my laptop, Barbie’s voice beginning the beautiful tale of Rapunzel to Kelly, her sister who does not appreciate the freedom of being able to paint instead of, say, spending an entire day doing coursework because all of your other days are taken up by work and wedding planning.
Kelly is, as ever, a little ridiculous. It’s part of her charm, though, and I love her dearly.
I go through all ofBarbie as Rapunzel,Barbie Swan Lake,Barbie Fairytopia, andBarbie in the Nutcracker, and am down to my last assignment by the time that Roman knocks on my door, heralding meeting time.
“I’ll be right there!” I call, quickly sweeping my papers and books into an orderly stack and sliding them into my backpack, followed by my other studying supplies while I hope with all of my might that he doesn’t open the door and ask what I’m up to. Ido notwant to explain my schoolwork to him right now, especially when I still haven’t told his sister about it.
I drop the backpack on the floor by my bed on the opposite side that faces the door, pause Barbie, snag my breakfast dishes, and then head downstairs for a meeting that is zero percent nerve-racking or anxiety-inducing, since it’s onlysort of, but also notabout Roman putting my bonnet on me last night and tucking me into bed.
When I get downstairs, he’s at the table again, and he waits patiently for me to return my dishes to the kitchen. He frowns, but notably does not say anything about me having not eaten since breakfast. I thoroughly enjoy the way the stubble on hischeeks sinks in as he bites the inside of them to keep himself quiet. His personal development is going well, I see.
“Good boy,” I praise, taking the seat across from him. “I know it’s killing you, so I’ll give you a treat. I have a box of Cheez-Its in my room and an apple, which I ate around lunchtime. Dairy, grain, fruit. A meal!”
“Is thattreatfor you or for me?” he asks, nose scrunching. “Because that news is almost worse than you not eating anything at all.”
I hum. “It was for me. I like the way your jaw clenches when you’re frustrated. Makes me feel like I’m winning.”
“Winning what?” he asks, tilting his head.
I shrug. “Just winning.”
He sighs, rubbing a thumb across his brows. “I didn’t call you here to fight,” he says. “So know that I’m not starting a fight when I say that before the meeting starts, I’m going to get a bowl of trail mix for the table, which I hope you will partake in. Heavily.”
Heh. I’m totally winning.
I smirk when he returns with the mix, plopping the bowl a little too far on my side of the table to be considered the middle, but close enough that it only takes one little push from me to make sure it’s evenly between us.
He sighs.
Magnanimously, I grab a few nuts and a piece of chocolate, tossing them in my mouth.
“What is it you’ve called this meeting for, if not to fight?” I ask. “Unprecedented behavior, really.”
“It’s about last night,” he says.
My heart skyrockets. “You said it was only sort of, but not really, about last night!” I accuse.
He waves a hand through the air. “Right. Which is true. It’s about last night in the sense that last night happened, and I wasable to not only go into your room, put all of your hair into a bonnet, but then tie that bonnet, take your shoes off, pick you up, get you under your covers, and then leave your room all without you so much as opening a single eyelid.”
Yes. Well. “I was tired,” I supply. “That happens to humans, being unable to live without sleep and all. It was on that pyramid you wanted to show me.”
He shakes his head. “It happens, yeah, but when it happens like that, it’s concerning.” He takes a breath, catching my eyes as he leans toward me over the table. “Sweet, I’m concerned. And I’m doing my very best here to be respectful about it, so I’m going to need you to drop the attitude and sarcasm for a minute, okay?”
