when they met

By @cecilyrise
when they met

There was him, and there was her. Both with seemingly average lives. Together, that was when it all changed. When they met.

Chapter 6

cookies

I’m home!” I shout as I walk through the doorway after another school day. It was casual, having my new friends made it much more interesting and fun than what it used to be. 

I’m really happy with the boys. My other friends never made me feel anything or really change my life in any way. We hardly even talk. So having the boys in my life is really a change. 

Sometimes we even text. Now I have a use for my phone. 

I pause

“Is. That. COOKIES I smell?!” I yell as I rush into the kitchen 

I lean in to look over at the oven but she shifts and blocks my line of sight “none for you miss, what kind of mother would I be if I let my daughter explode from sugar? So you can wait until after dinner” 

I groan “mom! That is so uncool!” 

“That just so happens to be my wife you’re talking about, and might I add she is just about the coolest gal on earth” I turn to face my dad while shuddering at his use of ‘gal’

“Dad, if you were in my position being cookie deprived I’m sure you agree with me and we would start our ninja plotting like now” 

“Kiddo, for starters, I’m not in your position because I can do what I want so no ninja plotting will be necessary and secondly, I’m no ninja, I think I would pop something before making it to the kitchen, so you’re on your own, plus, no matter how cool your mother is, she can be one scary lady, she could have the scariest person on earth running for the hills, and that’s saying something considering we live in the city” 

I sigh as loudly as I can and stalk off yelling over my shoulder “why couldn’t I have been born into a family of rabid pteranodons where the ruling system is all based on survival of the fittest? I would kick all your butts, you hip popping, cookie withholding cyclopses!” 

Walking down to the basement, I enter my makeshift studio. My newest hobby is currently 

Painting. 

I set up a new canvas, get out my palette, and smother it in paint. If I were to kill someone in their sleep, wow, a little morbid there ey Rowan? I wouldn’t smother them with a pillow, it would be with paints. If you’re going to go out, go out with style right? 

No 

Now I suddenly feel slightly bad for my palette, am slowly leading him to his death? Some of my paints can be toxic when ingested..

Oh no! “Don’t breathe palette! Wait, no, do breathe! But the paints.. oh what do I do what do I do?” as I’m worrying I hear my mom yell down the stairs 

“Rowan, are you talking to inanimate objects again?” 

“He’s going to die! My best friend!” Wow, lonely much? 

I fall to my knees and hold up my palate for my mom to see, a distressed look on my face. 

“Alright hon, let me know when he dies, what would you like for dinner?” 

“MOM this is serious. He’s going to die! I’ve killed him! Oh gosh mom I’m going to jail, will you visit me? I don’t know if I could pull off just one color, especially orange, steak please, do you think I look rugged enough for prison? I’m a hardened criminal! Maybe I’ll get a face tattoo, and when I meet people I’ll tell them I’m a murderous criminal giving them my scary face and have them pee their pants because I’m just that scary and I’ll laugh because I’m really not that scary everyone are just wimps. Not me though, I’m a freaking criminal!” 

She just looks at me with a blank stare. Why do I insist on making people think I’m crazy?

“So steak it is” then she walks off

Once again, I sigh probably more than necessary and flop down on the floor. 

After a minute I decide that’s dramatics for now. I can’t become the new Natasha. 

I hop up, grabbing my palette, the whole dying murder thing forgotten and I get to painting. 

But what is the question. I could have my own version of Shakespeare. “What to paint or what not to paint”

“MOM!” I yell up the stairs as I continue to stare at whatever is in front of me 

“WHAT?” Her voice carries through the whole house as she yells back. Our ‘through the stairs conversations’ can go on for a while, I’m sure both dad and the whole freaking neighborhood can hear us, I don’t expect complaints if anything, I expect money, simply because it’s like free un-agreed upon streaming. ‘The sacred stairs conversation’ 

If I’m gonna be supplying that kind of entertainment I expect bills! Make it rain! Seriously, mom has been complaining about the sun drying up her plants for weeks now

“IS IT DINNER TIME YET?” I yell back to her 

“IT WILL BE IF YOU COME UP HERE AND HELP!” I sigh. I should have seen this coming and now there’s really no getting out of it. 

I grumble a “coming” as I trudge my way upstairs. 

“Ah! Rowan, nice to see you emerge from that cave of yours” I roll my eyes at her comment 

“Cave of freaking wonders” 

“Like wondering how my classic basement turned into a kindergartners art room” I place a hand over my heart “mom I am no kindergartner, you must be confused, the kindergartner is in the living room yelling at the tv, poor soul never learned that inanimate objects CAN’T HEAR YOU” I say that last part loud enough for my dad to hear 

My mom gives me a look “says the one freaking out about murdering her palette with paint, you know, the stuff you’re supposed to put on it”

“You clearly don’t understand the meaning of a still soul”

My mom sighs “Is this another thing you made up? I swear your creativity is never-ending” 

I smile happily “there’s the bright side!” “And yes, still souls are souls given to still objects, takes a certain kind of person to understand, and you, madam, are not that certain kind of person” 

She scowls as dad walks in “Rowan what did you do?” He looks at me a little panicky “an angry mother handling the food you’re about to eat is a bad idea, do not provoke the bear do you hear me? Do not provoke the bear!” 

Sweetums, whatcha make for dinner? It’s still edible right? Because if Rowan made this delicious looking food right here inedible I will personally have her head for dinner!” 

“DAD!” I yell a little queasy at his comment 

“Rowan dear, another life lesson besides not poking the mama bear, is to not mess with the papa bears food, child or not, hunger comes first” 

I stare at him with my mouth hanging open “you’re kidding” 

Mom cuts in before dad can comment again 

You both start eating the food and quit the nonsense before it does become inedible and I leave you cave dwellers to forge for yourselves”

I gasp “mother! How could you speak of such things? You would leave us to die? That’s low. We know dad would make a mess of everything trying to make something like cereal ruining everything and leave me with nothing! And that’s saying something because Natasha is with her friend so we have more food to ourselves” 

“What happened to kicking our butts because we’re hip popping, cookie withholding cyclopses?” She says with a smile 

I perk up, with food shoved in my mouth I basically yell “oh yeah! Cookies! Eat quick dad, I have important business to attend to and I mustn’t be late” 

With food also in his mouth, he eagerly says “I could go for a second round of those bad boys” 

I then notice mom just watching us “you gonna join?” I raise an eyebrow

“I’m not feeling too well right now, but I promise i’ll eat something before I go to bed, don’t worry about it” 

“Suit yourself, I recommend the steak, quite splendid” 

She grins “why thank you my dear” she says in a silly posh accent 

My dad finishes shoveling his food in his mouth and he whines for me to hurry so we can get our cookies. 

Mom has this silly rule where we all need to finish our meal before moving on to dessert. I say we take a page from the ‘survival of the fittest’ book and have it be every man for themselves. 

But I’m not the one in charge here and I don’t think I ever will be. The whole system is rigged I swear. 

With food stuffed in my cheeks, I yell out a “DONE!” 

Of course, I’m immediately scolded for talking with my mouth full “Rowan what would the guests say?” 

I clear my throat “eww she so gross, I can’t even look at her, what a disgrace to the family. Uh! I’m leaving. Thanks for nothing!” 

“Rowan-” she starts 

“NOW COOKIES!” I yell 

She sighs and starts to walk off, my dad and I are giddy with excitement. Bouncing up and down and stomping our feet. Maybe we are kindergartners 

When she comes back with a tray of cookies I want to throw confetti and glitter. I reach for one and then two, and then thr- “that’s enough Rowan” she says and she pulls the tray out of my reach 

I watch as dad goes to take his third but mom also takes the tray away from him “you too Harold” he stares at her in disbelief before she walks away and he starts to pout like a child

“Oh cheer up Harold” I hold my cookie up to him and he sighs and taps my cookie with his before we dig in 

After a long day, a well-deserved cookie is always the answer, even when I have to put up with my hip popping, cookie withholding, cyclopses, because let’s be honest, I’m one too. 

Eww. Never mind, I refuse to be a Mushy gushy romantic cliche. I take it all back. Including that cookie. 

“Hey! Give that back!” 

I grin after taking dad’s second cookie and before he can take it back I eat it quickly “ha! Too slow” 

He glares at me “never mess with papa bears food” 

I yelp and jump from my chair dashing around the house, dad following closely behind 

“Get back here you – you Cookie Monster!”

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