Chapter Five

   Dinner is a loud and hectic affair, the white noise that clears my brain. How it could be anything else is beyond me; I don't know how people can stand a quiet room for long periods of time, I'd go insane. 

   Bella and Brianne are excited, finally let back into the house. Our two energetic canines can get a little wild sometimes.

   Sasha is on top of the cabinetry, surveying the crowd, ready to intervene when need be, while Tasha weaves her way underfoot, checking on the rowdy crowd. Baby watches us all enviously from afar, afraid to take the step into the controlled chaos of the kitchen.

   In this room, all the humans act like like one of the pets. River and Westin, both home at the same time, are like Sasha and Tasha, sometimes removed from the scene but still making their rounds, trying to cook up dinner for ten people. Aster and Astrid, the sweet little five years old they are, talk animatedly off by themselves, like Bella, our puppy, sometimes does to her reflection. Samuel, Maria, and Jessica are Tashas, helping out in ways that they can, sometimes talking or staying out of the way. Quentin is Brianne, in the way with high energy, particularly in the case of his sister, Jessica. Edward is like me. He sits on the outskirts with me, as we watch in, wishing to join, but not entirely sure how. We are like Baby, unsure of herself and unable to entirely fit in. 

   Edward and I sit in the window seat of the large picture window, away from the crowd of the kitchen. We sit in silence, but everywhere else is vibrant and colorful with sound. We each do our own thing, not wanting to disturb the other, him with a book, and me with a sketchbook and the dust of graphite lining my fingers. We sit like that until Westin yells over the cacophony that it is dinner time.

   The table fills quickly, me at one end of the table, my fathers at the other, and two lines of siblings between us.

   On the pale oak table, there are two large trays, one filled with bacon, the other with sausage. A bowl filled with brightly colored fruit: apples, oranges, grapefruit,kiwi, and anything else my younger siblings are currently infatuated with. A tall, tin-foiled plate probably contains pancakes; my guess is based on the choice of condiments: maple syrup, chocolate syrup and chips, butter, cinnamon sugar, about five different types of jams and jellies, and peanut butter. Oh, and of course, whipped cream.This is most definitely a pancake night.

   Pancake nights are special, they occur only once or twice a month, and they normally mark a special occasion.

   The plates, bowls, trays, and condiments are passed around freely,and most of the children pile their plates high, choosing the sweetest combinations they can find. I used to eat like they did, once, I think, a long time ago in the past. Now, not so much, with only butter and cinnamon sugar meeting my pancakes, a few slices of crispy bacon, and a pale pink apple as my serving of fruit.

   I try to hide behind my plate the entire time during dinner, my dads like learning as much as they can about their children, they will take time out of their busy schedules just to be with us and love as much as they possible can. Everyone loves being able to tell Westin and River what happened in their day, see them smile and laugh at the cute stories they tell. Tonight, I don't want to talk about what occurred during the day, how I got in trouble with my teacher again.

   Before it's my turn to talk, I ask to be excused under the pretense of a lot of homework. I don't have any except for math, and that isn't going to happening tonight. Westin and River both glance at each other before excusing me. 

   I walk to my room and throw myself on my bed, letting the fog overcome me, and trying to rest my brain which worked too hard through out the day. 

   A knock wakes me from a dream that escapes my fingers as consciousness overtakes me, the door opens, and it is River. I roll over and sit up.

   "I thought you had homework to do." It's not a question but a statement, he knew I had no homework, or at least wasn't going to do it when I left the table. So I don't reply, just stare at my gentle faced father. He walks from the doorway, deeper into my room, shutting the door behind him. 

   "Can I sit?" He asks and I don't answer, just move more to the one side of the bed so he can sit if he so wishes, and he does.

   I prepare for what I know is going to happen next, ready the arsenal of answers and half-excuses-half-truth.

   River looks me in the eyes and the urge to turn away is extreme, it is all I can do not to turn away.

   And it happens. He says it. 

   "I know what happened in school today."

Author's Note

Sorry it took so long to finish writing the chapter.