Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (30 page)

Seconds
ticked by and I waited anxiously. When I was just about to start typing my
apology, she replied.

rainedtheday0127:
Hey, sorry for
the delayed response. I was grabbing something to drink.

thesillywallflower:
I’m sorry about acting like such
a whiny, emo brat today. It’s just been a crappy few days. I know that doesn’t
make it any better, but I’m sorry.

rainedtheday0127:
It’s okay. I
understand. I just don’t like seeing you this way.

thesillywallflower:
I know. I don’t like acting this
way either. I’m just frustrated.

rainedtheday0127:
I know, but it’s going to be
okay though.

thesillywallflower:
Thanks, Tee. I really hope
you’re right.

rainedtheday0127:
You’re welcome, and you’ll see.
;) ;) ;) ;) 

rainedtheday0127
: So, what’s up?

thesillywallflower:
Nothing really. Skylar’s on the
phone, and I think I just heard Luke pull into the driveway. What about you?

rainedtheday0127:
Mom, Tanner, and Tatum just got
home. Dad’s in the kitchen. Experimenting with a new recipe, I suspect.

thesillywallflower:
Oh, food! I am so hungry. I just
ate some brownie bites, but my tummy is still rumbling. And Mom won’t be home
for a while.

rainedtheday0127:
Aww. Why don’t you cook
something?

thesillywallflower:
Yeah, right. I doubt anyone
would eat it.

rainedtheday0127:
Who says anyone
else has to eat? You’re the one that’s hungry. Fix something for yourself. The
others can fend for themselves.

thesillywallflower:
Not a bad idea.

rainedtheday0127:
Blah! Tierney need’s the
computer to type up a paper. I’ll talk to you later, okay?

thesillywallflower:
Yep! <3

rainedtheday0127:
<3

Tegan
signed off, and even though our conversation had been short, I felt as if the
heavy boulder had been removed from my chest. It wasn’t as if we’d had some
horrible fight, but the tension I’d felt during school had left me feeling
anxious and worried. I was so thankful that we were able to clear things up so
easily. I was grateful yet again to have such a wonderful best friend.

Relieved,
I quickly checked my e-mail. There was nothing of great importance, so I signed
out of my account. I was about to put up my away message, rather than sign out
of instant messenger in case Tegan came back, when I got another instant
message.

jackyourhart:
Hey you!

As
soon as I saw Jackson’s screen name, my heart began hammering in my chest. My
first instinct was to feel anxious and giddy, as usual, because he was talking
to me. Then I remembered I was still upset with him.

After
having some time to think things over, I realized I’d probably overreacted
earlier in the library. I’d hurried off so suddenly, letting Skylar’s claims
fill my mind. Even though I wasn’t sure I still believed my sister, Jackson’s
words had still bothered me.

According
to Tegan, he was just making conversation based on his own personal experience,
but I couldn’t help but wonder why he thought I should be the one to try harder
with Skylar. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been trying for much of my life. Skylar
just never wanted to give
me
a chance.
She
was the one who didn’t
want to see that maybe
I
wasn’t as bad as
she
thought.

It
took me a moment to reply to Jackson’s message. I was apprehensive. I didn’t
even know if I wanted to talk to him right then. Displaced or not, I was still
feeling pretty angry about things, but I finally answered, lacking my usual
enthusiasm for these conversations.

thesillywallflower:
Hey

jackyourhart:
What’s up?

thesillywallflower:
Not a lot. You?

jackyourhart:
Just hanging around. Being lazy
and useless. You know, the usual.

I
really didn’t know what to say in reply. Part of me wanted to just chat along
happily with him as if nothing was wrong, but the other, bigger, part of me was
still thinking about our conversation regarding Skylar. It made me want to
punch him just as much as I wanted to punch her.

I
wasn’t used to feeling so angry—especially toward people who hadn’t,
technically, done anything wrong. I still felt disgruntled, though. The
possibility that I was just a pawn in Jackson’s game to get to my sister made
me feel ill; so much so that I didn’t even really want to talk to him right
then.

It
took me another moment to summon enough energy to answer his last message.

thesillywallflower:
Sounds like fun.

jackyourhart:
Oh yeah.

I
stared at the screen for another second, but I just couldn’t make myself engage
in our typical banter. My stomach rumbled, and I remembered Tegan’s suggestion
to cook something.

Biting
my lip, I quickly typed another message to Jackson.

thesillywallflower:
Hey, I’ll be right back

jackyourhart:
Okay!

I
stood up and crossed over to the door, stopping to give the computer screen a
fleeting look. I briefly considered going back and telling Jackson I had to go,
but I couldn’t find the will to do so. Instead, I closed the door behind me and
made my way down to the kitchen.

Downstairs,
I looked through the freezer and refrigerator, surveying the contents as I
tried to decide what to cook. I knew Mom would be home in about an hour, and as
upset as I had been with her about blowing me off when I tried to talk to her,
I weighed the situation in my mind. Perhaps Tegan was right; maybe Mom was just
distracted with everything she had going on. Maybe she just needed a break.
That didn’t change how I felt about the way she handled things, but I could
understand feeling so weighted down by various matters that it was hard to tell
up from down, right from wrong.

I
grabbed the package of hamburger Mom must have placed in the refrigerator to
thaw and took out a couple of eggs along with a few other ingredients I could
remember off the top of my head that went into meatloaf. I’d watched Travis
Tyler make meatloaf many times, and his always turned out perfectly. Tegan and
I had even helped on few occasions. Travis always made his meatloaf stuffed
with pepper jack cheese. It was one of my favorite dishes to eat when I was at
the Tylers’ house. I checked and was pleased to find we had some pepper jack
cheese.

After
I’d taken out the things I could remember, I grabbed the downstairs phone,
which I rarely ever used because I didn’t want to tie up Mom and Dad’s phone
line. I dialed the Tylers’ number.

Travis
answered, and I smiled because he was just the person I wanted to talk to.

“Hey,
it’s Silly,” I said, though I was sure he’d recognize my voice.

“Oh,
hi, Silly,” Travis greeted. “Did you need to speak to Tegan?”

“Actually,
I have a few questions for you,” I said.

I
could tell from his answer that he was somewhat surprised, but after I
explained what I was trying to do, he went into teaching mode, explaining each
step I’d need to take for the meatloaf to turn out. I jotted down a few notes
as we spoke.

He
even suggested seasoned potatoes as a side before giving me all of the
necessary details to prepare them. Once I had all of the information I needed,
I thanked him for his help—and he wished me luck—before I hung up the phone and
set to work on dinner. 

I
didn’t know how it would go over with my family. I doubted they trusted me to
cook since they hardly trusted me with peanut butter and jelly, but I realized
I really didn’t care what they thought. I’d cooked this very meal under Travis’
supervision on more than one occasion, and he seemed to have faith in me, so
why shouldn’t I have faith in myself?

I
had to prepare the meatloaf first because it had to bake, so I followed Travis’
directions and stirred it all together before placing it into the glass dish
Mom always used when she attempted to make meatloaf. As nervous as I was about
my family’s reaction, I realized it couldn’t possibly be any worse than some of
Mom’s outcomes.

Once
the meatloaf was in the oven, I set to work on the potatoes. It was at that
point Dad entered the kitchen. I’d been distracted enough by the task at hand
that I hadn’t heard him drive up. He’d left his shoes by the garage door
through the utility room.

He
sat his briefcase down on the counter and observed for a moment before asking,
“What are you doing?”

“Cooking
dinner,” I replied as I diced a potato.

“You
can’t cook,” he stated, though he didn’t sound so certain.

I
barely glanced at him as I replied, “Yes, I can.”

For
a moment, he looked dumbstruck by my declaration. Then he asked, “Where did you
learn to cook?”

I
wondered if he was afraid I might say I’d learned from Mom. I considered
teasing him with that answer, but I suspected he probably wouldn’t have as much
of a problem with turning down my food as he would if he did the same with
Mom’s.

“Tegan’s
dad,” I said simply as Luke entered the kitchen.

He
greeted Dad with a quick, “Hey.” Then he stuck his nose up in the air and
sniffed. “What smells so good?”

“Dinner,”
I replied. The “duh” was implied.

Luke
glanced around the room, brows drawing together. “Who’s cooking?”

I
rolled my eyes. Was he blind?

“I
am.”

“Oh.”
He considered for a moment, thoughtful, before he merely shrugged and said,
“When’s it going to be done? I’m starving.”

“It
should be ready by the time Mom gets home,” I answered, glancing at the timer
for the meatloaf.

“Okay,
cool,” he nodded before turning around and walking out of the room.

Dad
stuck around for a few more minutes, watching me dice potatoes. Finally, as if
coming to his senses, he walked out of the room, looking somewhat bewildered.

I
shrugged to myself and carried on with the task at hand.

After
the potatoes were chopped, I added the cooking oil to the frying pan and waited
for it to heat up. Then I went to the pantry and collected all of the necessary
spices. It didn’t take but a couple of minutes for the oil to heat, so I added
the potatoes to the skillet and seasoned them with the array of spices.

I
stirred it all around, making sure all of the potatoes were seasoned, and then
returned all of the spices to the pantry. I grabbed a can of green beans to
round out the meal.

Once
they were on the stove with a bit of butter added for flavor, I checked the
potatoes, stirring them around to make sure they were cooking evenly. I
remembered drinking the last can of Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, so I checked the
refrigerator to see if we had anything else to drink. We didn’t, of course. It
seemed like we went through canned drinks like there was no tomorrow.

I
remembered seeing a mix for raspberry iced tea in the pantry, so I dug that out
and made a pitcher of tea, checking the potatoes occasionally so they wouldn’t
burn. They were just supposed to get crunchy, and they were getting close.

I
was praying they’d get cooked before Mom got home, and Luke came back ready to
eat. I was glad, at least, Luke didn’t seem too concerned by the idea of me
cooking dinner. Dad appeared both baffled and rather reluctant. Perhaps he was
just scared I’d taken after Mom in the cooking department. It was probably for
the best that I hadn’t teased him with that answer.

For
the first time in what felt like forever, it seemed as if luck were on my side
because everything came together as the timer for the meatloaf went off. I took
it out of the oven and let it cool on the counter and turned down the potatoes
to low so they wouldn’t burn while I took out five empty glasses and added ice.

I
poured everyone a drink and sat them at the table before I grabbed plates and
silverware and set the table, and I was setting the meatloaf on a potholder on
the table along with the potatoes and green beans when Mom arrived home. 

She
bustled into the house through the garage entrance, looking stressed and
hurried, but she stopped at the archway between the kitchen and the dining room
and gasped. “Silly, did you do all of this?”

I
nodded.

She
smiled and walked over to the table to inspect the food. “It looks wonderful.”

“Thanks,”
I said. “It’s ready.”

“Great,”
she said. “I’ll go tell the others.”

Even
though she looked relieved not to have to hurry and put something together for
dinner, Mom still looked drained, so I said, “No, I can do that. Go ahead and
sit down and rest.”

Mom
wrapped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a half hug before she kissed me
on the forehead. I hugged her back before pulling away and motioning for her to
sit down before I went and told the others that dinner was ready.

Luke
made it into the kitchen at top speed. Dad followed somewhat apprehensively
with Skylar right behind him while I brought up the rear. Luke, Skylar, and Mom
quickly prepared their plates and tucked right in. Dad was more hesitant, and,
for the first time, I was kind of nervous because it was now the moment of
truth. I’d told Dad I could cook, and I didn’t want to look like a liar if it
turned out badly.

Luckily,
Luke and Skylar started making sounds of approval while I could only describe
the look on Mom’s face as dreamy. Finally, Dad took a bite and looked both
relieved and pleased by what he tasted.

“This
is delicious,” he declared.

“It
is!” Skylar agreed heartily. “Did you try a new recipe, Mom?”