Page 15 of On Her Team
I groan and bury my face in my hands. This is my life most evenings. Fighting over who has to set the table, fighting overwho has to load the dishwasher, fighting over who has to clean the table. It goes on and on and on.
It’s calmer when Mom is home, but she usually works second shift. Which leaves me here to deal with my siblings, who can bicker nonstop all day long. These are the days I wish I was still an only child.
“Stop calling me a nerd.”
“What are you going to do, nerd? Unmake my bed?”
Penelope smirks. “No, you’re the one who unmakes beds. I will be more inventive. I have my chemistry kit.”
“Addy!” Mila screams. “Penelope threatened to blow me up.”
I push to my feet. “Enough.”
“But—”
“I said enough.” I point to Otis. “Load the dishwasher.” He opens his mouth to complain but I slash my hand in the air.
He grunts. “Fine.”
“Penelope, wipe the table.”
She grabs a dishcloth and begins cleaning the table. It’s a miracle.
“Mila, take out the trash.”
Mila sprints for the trash. For reasons I have yet to figure out, she loves to take out the trash.
I enjoy the silence while I gather the leftover spaghetti sauce. Why can’t they be this quiet all the time?
“Has everyone finished their homework?” I ask once the table and kitchen are clean.
“I’m finished,” Penelope says.
“Me too,” Mila adds.
I lift an eyebrow at her. Unlike Penelope, she hates homework. “You are?”
“We didn’t have any homework today.”
“Do I need to phone your teacher and ask?”
Her shoulders fall. “No.” She stomps away to the bedroom she shares with Penelope.
“Can I go over to Steve’s house?” Otis asks.
“Don’t you have practice in the morning?”
“Not until ten.”
I check the time. It’s not yet seven. “Be home by ten. It’s a weeknight.”
“Mom would let me stay out later.”
He’s such a liar. As if I haven’t caught on to his little game. I cross my arms over my chest. “You want to message her to ask if you can stay out on a weeknight when you have practice tomorrow?”
He scowls. “No.”
My brother will never admit it, but I’m more lenient than our mom. I worry about being too strict and ruining my relationship with my siblings. Whereas Mom worries the kids will become troublemakers she has to bail out of jail.
