I got up before Lane did, so I got up got dressed. Lane just tends to flop out of bed and throw some clothes on; I guess just the symptoms of growing up in a big house. However, he’s still super cute.
I then went downstairs to help Dad with breakfast. We had a small kitchen with wooden countertops splintering in places on top, a very old microwave that you set the time like an egg timer, and a toaster with a bunch of crumbs and jelly stains on it. On the fridge was my straight-A report card which allowed me to skip to 9th grade with Lane, some coupons to various restaurants that we'll more-than-likely never eat at, and a picture of my dad and I from when I was like 4: we were on a bench at either a photography place or an actual park. On the oven was a stack of unfinished pancakes on a black pan with a blue spatula. The man holding the spatula was wearing a plain red button up and khaki pants.
“Morning, Marky," He said. I rolled my eyes back at him; I hated it when he called me that.
Then my boyfriend came in and cheerfully said, "Good morning, Marky" as he kissed me on the cheek.
My dad rolled his eyes and I was like, "What?"
Dad replied,then said, "I heard some weird moaning noises from your room last night."
Me and Lane look at other, our cheeks really red. Lane nervously replied, "Uh…we were watching a really stupid movie."
Then I added, "Yeah! We moaned at how stupid it was." We both moaned.
Dad wasn't buying it, but he didn't say anything. Instead he told us, "I'm going to have to work for most of today after breakfast."
I sighed "Ok, then. And I assume you don’t want us here by ourselves?" For some reason my dad just doesn’t like me home if he’s not here. Not sure if he’s worried I’ll throw a party or be here when someone tries to break in, but he just doesn’t. So anytime he has to work on the weekends or after school, he has me stay at a friend’s house or with one of the neighbors.
After taking to Marky’s dad, I sent a few texts to my parents, who agreed Marcus and I could continue our weekend sleepover at my house, just so long as he went to church with us so his dad could pick him up the next day. Neither of us like church but hey, what can you do?
Dad came to Marcus’ house wearing his pink button up shirt (he loves that thing). Luke was in the front seat listening to an old SMOOCH song named Bob (it’s softer than most of their songs) and Loki was in the second row listening to some Drakey song. Leon was in the third row playing with his SpongeBeth plush. I sat in the middle of the third row, next to Leon, with Marcus on the other side. Leon loves me A LOT; Marcus…not so much.
My brothers joke that I should stay at home when we get married, except for Loni who is actually planning our wedding (everyone always assumed he would be the one to be gay but whatever) and Lars, who is usually too busy writing poetry with Marcus to tease us.
Oh no! It's that pale meany that steals my bubby! I won't let this stand! I threw SpongeBeth at him and he caught it! And just handed it back to me I threw it again he shoved it back. I wanted him to get away! I started crying then bubby gently handed it back to me, "There, there, it's ok, it's ok." He wrapped me in a hug and gently rocked back and forth until I went to sleepy land.
How does he do that?! The little twerp was crying up a storm, and Lane got him to fall asleep in like, a minute. Anyways, we got to his place, I put my bag on the couch and took like, 20 Advil because my head hurt because of all the noise. I saw the twins fighting over Call of Duty or whatever, and then some 4-year-old blew something up, and his sister (Layla, I think; it’s something unique) was trying to create a model of something: with a triangle, some balls, and a coat hanger. This family REALLY lived up to their name.
Me, Luke, and Lane went in their room, and it smelled awful! Like, have they never heard of FaBreeze?
Luke had the two of us sit on Lane’s bed and said, "You know, Lane, today would be a good day to tell Mom and Dad."
"We were talking about that," I said.
Lane then made himself smaller and meekly said, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
Lars then popped up and said "You could always write a letter."
After calming down from the shock and Vietnam flashbacks of him popping up, we did just that. It was a hard task; Lane’s trash can was filled with bad letters. We eventually made a good one, though.
That night at dinner, we had pizza, each of us getting exactly the right amount. As everyone was letting their food digest, I spoke up, "Mr. & Mrs. Loud, Lane has something he wants to show you."
"No, I don't!" Lane interrupted, though quieted down when he saw all his siblings shoot him a look.
Mrs. Loud then asked, “What’s this about, Sweetie?” Knowing there was no way we were gonna let him back out of this, Lane started shaking; with sweaty palms, My Lane handed the letter to his mom. She opened it up…