It’s summer again, and that means I’ll be writing a series of short fiction pieces based on inspiration from some of my 8th graders. I asked them for the first line and last line of a fictional story, and I’ll fill in the rest. I’ve been doing this for a number of years now, and it’s a great chance to have some fun and take a break from pontificating. This week’s lines come from Avary Hopper.
I decided to make supper. Not only was I starving, but my younger brother and sister probably needed to be fed too. Mom was at work and Dad was on a road trip for his business, so I had all this responsibility now that school was out. Ugh, curse my maturity!
I looked in the pantry and the fridge and decided on bangers and mash. If you’ve never tried that, it’s pretty simple. You slice up some potatoes and fry them up with olive oil in a saucepan. You also cut up some smoked sausage and throw that in with the potatoes. When both the potatoes and the sausage have a nice crisp to them, you’re ready to go. It’s something I can handle making, and my siblings love it as much as I do.
I started heating the pan with oil while I sliced the potatoes and sausage. Suddenly, I heard a wail from the living room. I had gotten to know the different sounds my siblings made and could usually decipher if one of them actually needed help or if they were just trying to get attention. This was one of those “needs help” moments.
I rushed to the living room to find my brother’s finger stuck between the coffee table and a chair with my sister pushing them together. Chet is eight and Gabby is ten, so you can imagine how well they get along. I’m positively old at the age of 14, but I know how to make them behave.
“Gabby!” I barked. “Let it go!” But she was releasing her brother before I even finished saying her name. I went to check Chet’s finger. “Let’s get some ice on that, buddy,” I told him and led him to the kitchen.
“Oh my gosh!” I said as I saw some smoke coming from the stove. The oil had been heating too much and was worthless now. I got some ice for Chet, rinsed out the pan, and started fresh. “You two need to behave so I can focus on supper!” I shouted at the two young ones.
“Sorry, Gabby,” they said remorsefully. I turned back to the stove and resumed preparations.
This time I got the potatoes in the pan before trouble struck again. Chet decided he was still mad at his sister and used the ice pack to whack her upside the head. Repeatedly. I raced out to the living room and separated the combatants again.
“You skeeve!” shouted Gabby to Chet.
He looked confused. “What does that even mean?” he asked.
I was also confused. “Yeah, I’ve never heard that word,” I said.
Gabby stuck her tongue out. “Well, too bad I’m smarter than you,” she retorted.
I threw my hands up in the air and retreated to the kitchen, just in time to flip the potatoes and add the sausage. Then I came back to the living room. “Enough, you two, or no dessert,” I told them. “And just wait until Mom gets home from work.”
Gabby crossed her arms and turned away from me. I decided to leave well enough alone and get back to supper. I was flipping the food in the pan again when I heard what sounded like a siren. “What now?” I screamed.
As I stormed back into the living room, I saw through the window that it was actually a fire engine racing down the street. Gabby and Chet were up at the window, watching it. Well, at least they were quiet.
I was just finishing up with supper when they both called to me. “What is it?” I asked from the kitchen. “I’m almost done with supper. Can’t it wait?” At first, there was no response, so I just went to get the table ready. Then they called me again.
I put the pan on the table and told them to come eat, but they stayed glued to the window. I walked over and heard even more sirens. Suddenly, supper was no longer important.
Up and down the street, fire engines were stationed, and police officers were herding people out of their homes. At least three houses looked like they were already a lost cause. I must not have heard much since I was dealing with the brats. But now I told them to grab a few things from their rooms and get ready for the police to help us leave.
No time for supper now. Our neighborhood is on fire.
Word of the Week: This week’s word is skeeve, which means a disgusting person, as in, “The skeeve tried to take advantage of the elderly with a phone scam.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!