When Its Least Expected Read Online Free
Ann?” Her mother hollered from the kitchen.
Harley grumbled under her breath as she stood. She was up, sure, but she definitely
wasn’t awake. Harley hated Mondays, even more than she hated death. She slipped on
her
favorite worn out jeans and white tank top, just as the scent of blueberry pancakes
invaded her nose. And just like that, all of her irritation fled with the promise
of what was waiting for her in the kitchen.
“Wow, Mom, you never make these during the week! What’s the special occasion?” she
asked, lifting the dark locks of her hair from the back of her tank, just as she entered
the kitchen.
She hoisted herself onto a chair and fingered the rim of her juice glass, peering
greedily towards the stove. She licked her lips. Blueberry pancakes had to have been
better than sex. Well … not that she’d knew what sex was like … but still, nothing
could possibly beat the warm goodness of syrup dripping down her throat, right?
Her mother looked up from her skillet. A potent smile appeared on her lips. Harley
stifled
an eye roll as she downed her orange yumminess. She slammed the cup on the table and
wiped
the remaining residue around her mouth with her bare arm.
That look on her mother’s face went from sweet, to drama queen in less than a minute.
Her eyes darkened, her lips curled down into a frown. Crap. Something was wrong. “No
reason, sweetie, just decided to do something nice for you to start your Monday off
right.” She patted the top of Harley’s head, her evasiveness was irritating. Harley’s
defensive walls went up.
Somebody had to have died. Her mom always softened her with food before bad news came.
“Crap, Mom,” Harley groaned, tucking her chin into her chest. “Who died?” She
snatched a piece of bacon off a nearby plate, downing it in one bite. She had to fill
her stomach soon otherwise her nerves wouldn’t take too kindly to a full meal.
Her mother stared over her glasses. A wrinkle of disapproval settled between her brows
as she laid pancakes on the table. Then she turned around and headed back towards
the sink. Not a single word had left her mouth. That was good at least because it meant that everyone was apparently still alive and kicking.
Harley relaxed, letting her shoulders drop as she scowled at her mother’s backside.
There
was honestly no point in questioning the lady anyways. When she wanted to talk, she’d
talk.
Leaning back a little in her chair, Harley stared down the hall, checking for signs
of
David. But as usual, he was nowhere in sight. Go Figure… Now that David was homeschooled,
he pretty much woke and slept whenever he wanted. It was annoyingly unhealthy behavior
as far as Harley was concerned, but her parents let it slide. They were obviously
still in denial of their son’s current emotional state of crap-tastic-ness.
“Eat up, Har. There’s plenty more where that came from.” Her mother turned back
around and sat down in the seat next to her, her own plate filled to the brim. But
unlike Harley, the woman didn’t touch a thing.
Harley slowed her bites, studying the movements of her mother’s hands. She had stirred
the syrup around, then poked at the bacon, and finally flipped the scrambled eggs
like they were bouncy balls. The woman sighed, over and over again, until she practically
robbed the entire room of oxygen.
Harley let her fork clatter down onto her plate. She cleared her throat, her eyes
practically drilled holes into her mother’s forehead until she finally peered up at
her. This was getting ridiculous. Their stare held for a long moment, and Harley leaned
forward, steepling her fingers under her chin with her eyes wide and questioning.
But her mouth stayed shut.
“Harley, I need to discuss something with you ...”
Crappity crap. Here it comes…
Harley held her breath and fought another eye roll, letting a fake smile win out over
her
lips. “Sure, Mom,
Harley grumbled under her breath as she stood. She was up, sure, but she definitely
wasn’t awake. Harley hated Mondays, even more than she hated death. She slipped on
her
favorite worn out jeans and white tank top, just as the scent of blueberry pancakes
invaded her nose. And just like that, all of her irritation fled with the promise
of what was waiting for her in the kitchen.
“Wow, Mom, you never make these during the week! What’s the special occasion?” she
asked, lifting the dark locks of her hair from the back of her tank, just as she entered
the kitchen.
She hoisted herself onto a chair and fingered the rim of her juice glass, peering
greedily towards the stove. She licked her lips. Blueberry pancakes had to have been
better than sex. Well … not that she’d knew what sex was like … but still, nothing
could possibly beat the warm goodness of syrup dripping down her throat, right?
Her mother looked up from her skillet. A potent smile appeared on her lips. Harley
stifled
an eye roll as she downed her orange yumminess. She slammed the cup on the table and
wiped
the remaining residue around her mouth with her bare arm.
That look on her mother’s face went from sweet, to drama queen in less than a minute.
Her eyes darkened, her lips curled down into a frown. Crap. Something was wrong. “No
reason, sweetie, just decided to do something nice for you to start your Monday off
right.” She patted the top of Harley’s head, her evasiveness was irritating. Harley’s
defensive walls went up.
Somebody had to have died. Her mom always softened her with food before bad news came.
“Crap, Mom,” Harley groaned, tucking her chin into her chest. “Who died?” She
snatched a piece of bacon off a nearby plate, downing it in one bite. She had to fill
her stomach soon otherwise her nerves wouldn’t take too kindly to a full meal.
Her mother stared over her glasses. A wrinkle of disapproval settled between her brows
as she laid pancakes on the table. Then she turned around and headed back towards
the sink. Not a single word had left her mouth. That was good at least because it meant that everyone was apparently still alive and kicking.
Harley relaxed, letting her shoulders drop as she scowled at her mother’s backside.
There
was honestly no point in questioning the lady anyways. When she wanted to talk, she’d
talk.
Leaning back a little in her chair, Harley stared down the hall, checking for signs
of
David. But as usual, he was nowhere in sight. Go Figure… Now that David was homeschooled,
he pretty much woke and slept whenever he wanted. It was annoyingly unhealthy behavior
as far as Harley was concerned, but her parents let it slide. They were obviously
still in denial of their son’s current emotional state of crap-tastic-ness.
“Eat up, Har. There’s plenty more where that came from.” Her mother turned back
around and sat down in the seat next to her, her own plate filled to the brim. But
unlike Harley, the woman didn’t touch a thing.
Harley slowed her bites, studying the movements of her mother’s hands. She had stirred
the syrup around, then poked at the bacon, and finally flipped the scrambled eggs
like they were bouncy balls. The woman sighed, over and over again, until she practically
robbed the entire room of oxygen.
Harley let her fork clatter down onto her plate. She cleared her throat, her eyes
practically drilled holes into her mother’s forehead until she finally peered up at
her. This was getting ridiculous. Their stare held for a long moment, and Harley leaned
forward, steepling her fingers under her chin with her eyes wide and questioning.
But her mouth stayed shut.
“Harley, I need to discuss something with you ...”
Crappity crap. Here it comes…
Harley held her breath and fought another eye roll, letting a fake smile win out over
her
lips. “Sure, Mom,