“Denver, hon, could you please get out a carton of eggs, and start cracking them in a bowl?” My mom whistled while she worked.
Really? I thought. Forced down to earth, I was stuck in a never-ending greeting card. “Yes, Mom.”
“You are a doll,” she added, all chipper. She pinched my cheek.
I smirked. My parents flitted about slicing fruit and turning sausage links. Dancer slept, curled at their busy feet.
Declan ambled into the kitchen, stretching and yawning, wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting flannel boxer shorts.
“G-G-G-o-o-o m-m-m-o-o-o-rning,” he stammered sleepily.
“Oh gross! Mom!” I yelled. “Look at him! Look at what he’s wearing around the house! Please tell him to stop! Yuck!” I eyed him frantic. He was up to no good again! I could tell.
“Oh, Declan,” my mom frowned.
“Come on, buddy!” Dad gave Declan a stern look.
“W-W-W-hat? I-I-I l-l-l-i-i-i-ve h-h-h-e-e-e-re. Th-i-i-i-s-s-s i-i-i-s h-h-h-o-o-o-w I-I-I a-l-l-l-ways w-w-w-a-a-a-lk a-r-r-r-ound.” He shrugged, all innocent. Faker!
“Declan, this is not how we present ourselves in front of a new guest, or chaste young girls,” Mom lectured.
“O-o-o-h, w-w-w-hat i-i-i-s ch-a-a-a-ste?” he questioned giving my mother his helpless, doe-eyed look.
As Mom continued to explain her reasons, he turned to me, and winked. Cracking up silently, he placed his hands over his mouth so she wouldn’t see his hilarious joke.
“Poppy is a proper girl who shouldn’t be needlessly subjected to . . .” Mom droned on with her lesson as she mixed pancake batter, tossing in handfuls of fresh blueberries.
“Mom!” I screeched.
Declan stopped laughing as she looked up. He stood, tall and clasped his hands together. Swaying, he moved his feet around the floor, copping a child-like, inquisitive grin. He mock-listened to her lesson.
“What is it, Denver?” Mom stopped and turned to me.
“He’s not listening,” I complained.
My parents never believed me. They always took Declan’s side.
“N-N-N-o-o-o, I-I-I a-m-m-m l-l-l-i-i-i-stening,” he confirmed. “I-I-I th-i-i-i-nk I-I-I g-g-g-e-e-e-t i-i-i-t n-n-n-o-o-o-w.”
Declan played the fool well. Declan was always smarter than he let on, and craftier than anyone gave him credit for. People constantly underestimated him, and his abilities because of his outward appearance, his dopey good looks, his speech impediment, and his flappy tics. But, on the inside, tucked away in Declan’s mind, lived an intelligent man, and a stupid brother who knew how to intentionally push my buttons in front of my parents, and . . . get away with it!
“See?” Mom exclaimed to me, reassured that her lessons worked.
“S-S-S-e-e-e?” Declan mimicked triumphantly.
“You are so going to get it, Declan, you jerk!” I rammed into him and hissed.
“Wh-a-a-a-t d-d-d-o-o-o ya-ya-ou m-m-m-ean? Th-i-i-i-s w-w-w-a-a-a-s-s-s ya-ya-our f-f-f-r-r-r-iend’s i-d-d-d-ea. H-H-H-e-e-e w-w-w-a-a-a-nted m-m-m-e-e-e t-t-t-o c-c-c-o-o-o-ver u-u-u-p i-i-i-n fl-a-a-a-nnel. S-S-S-o-o-o, t-a-d-a, I-I-I d-d-d-i-i-i-d.”
Declan spun around for effect, jeering me.
“That’s not what he meant. I’m sure,” I roared.
“O-o-o-h, n-n-n-o-o-o? Wh-a-a-a-t d-d-d-i-i-i-d h-h-h-e-e-e m-m-m-ean?” Declan readjusted his waistband below his pelvic bone, haughtily.
“Mom!” I screamed.
“Declan, go get dressed!” she commanded, harried. “And Denver, stop provoking your brother! Start helping me in the kitchen with the breakfast.”
“But he . . . .”
“Now! Please! The guests will be up any minute!” Her cool began to thaw and she flipped on her panic mode button.
“Denver!” my father’s voice grew irritated, “Leave your brother alone, and help your mother! And Declan, proper attire, please! We don’t want to give our guest the wrong impression on how we conduct ourselves in this household.”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
“O-o-o-oh k-k-k-kay!” Declan bowed.
Declan scurried upstairs getting out of his duties of assisting with the meal, evading yet another chore, leaving me to do the wretchedful hard work.
A tuft of floppy hair peeked from around the corner. A head poked its way through the opening. Eyes searched the kitchen. Dexx appeared dressed in sweatpants, a gray thermal long sleeve shirt with a faded, black T-shirt over it. He looked like he was about to spin some sick beats for my family. His hair flopped to one side of his face, instead of the way he had brushed it back last night. He blinked bashfully. He scanned the room, taking it all in. He waited, hesitant to enter.
“Um, hey, Dexx, come in!” I blathered, kicking myself for missing my cue to invite him in sooner.
I froze in my spot. My tongue turned to gelatinous mush, spongy in my mouth. He looked so adorable. I couldn’t find the proper words to have a cohesive conversation. His eyes pleaded with mine to say something. The moment he appeared in the entry, I realized he worked at being ultra-polite. He probably didn’t feel comfortable enough around my family to make himself at home, seeing that he just met them last night.
Dexx nodded, and entered the kitchen meekly. “Good morning. Does anyone need any assistance?”
“No, no. Thank you very much, dear. Please. You are our guest. Have a seat. Breakfast is nearly ready,” Mom cried in her over-eager hostess voice.
Dexx timidly took his spot from last night. He drummed the tips of his fingers lightly on the table.
“So, how did you sleep?” I threw myself into the chair next to him. My icy stage fright melted away the moment I sat next to him.
“Great. Thanks,” Dexx answered, still warming up to his new surroundings.
“Me too. So happy you’re here. Can’t wait for the fun stuff we’re going to do today. And tonight’s party, um . . .” I rambled on, still unsure how to talk to him. Killing my cool persona, I made a grand fool out of myself.
“Awesome! More stuff? I can’t wait . . .” his words stopped cold as Poppy and Declan made their way downstairs, and came in to the kitchen.
Indeed Declan put on more clothing, which barely made a difference. He now showed off his chest in a super tight, practically sheer white T-shirt and a pair of green flannel pajama pants, pulled down below his belly so that it displayed the waistband of his underpants, insuring we all saw which designer label he preferred.
He pulled along a dainty Poppy, who favored a more childish approach to her garb. She tiptoed behind him in a long, pink cotton nightie covered in kittens wearing red bows, trimmed in dark pink lace. She plastered her face with loads of dark makeup topped with pink lipstick to match her gown. She had pulled her hair back in her signature pony.
I touched my freshly washed face. Free of makeup and gloss, I wondered if I should have made an attempt at painting my lips and cheeks before facing Dexx this morning. It was too late. The damage was already done.
I turned to my new friend as the two dorks approached the table. Dexx’s jaw dropped. He choked. Pushing himself from his spot, he immediately stood to greet the latecomers. My stomach plummeted, disappointed that Dexx didn’t react that way when he first saw me this morning.
Declan winked at me, and sat down in his place. Dancer scurried under his chair, eager for scraps. He licked Declan’s fingers while Declan messaged his little head.
Poppy sauntered over to me and grabbed my hand. “Hey, Denver,” she said quietly in her best, sweetest voice. “Can we go somewhere, and have a heart to heart before breakfast?”
I pulled my hand away. “I don’t want to have a heart to heart. I’m hungry.”
“Okay. Perhaps later?”
“Perhaps not!” I dreaded having any type of conver
sation with her while I entertained a new guest.
“All right. Suit yourself,” she chirped happily.
“I will. I will suit myself.” My face flamed red.
I would probably end up talking to Poppy later anyway. Despite my resentment toward Declan stealing my former best friend, Poppy and I still sort of shared a sisterly bond through our common experiences.
She skipped back to her seat. My parents set down heaping platters of steaming hot food. We filled our plates high with eggs, sausage, hotcakes, and fruit. Declan daintily pecked at a small helping of eggs and fruit, feeding the dog bits of food under the table, while Poppy slathered her plate with butter and syrup.
Dexx nudged me. “Your parents have to be the best cooks ever,” he garbled around a mouthful of food.
Specs of his spit hit my arm, but I didn’t mind. He munched away, satisfied in my home, sitting next to me.
We helped my parents clean up the mess. My dad trumpeted in his best announcer’s voice.
“Do, do, do, do! Hey, kids, it’s winter sports time!” he cheered. Dancer flipped in tiny circles at the sound, showing off the tricks my dad taught him.
Dexx’s eyes popped out, worried. Declan jumped at him from behind, grabbing his back, and gave him a firm bear hug. Declan picked Dexx up, and swung him around, then embraced him with brotherly affection, smiling and laughing.
“D-D-D-o-o-o-n’t w-w-w-o-o-o-r-r-r-y-y-y d-d-d-ude. I-I-I’ve g-g-g-o-o-o-t ya-ya-ou c-c-c-o-o-o-vered!”
“Yeah, don’t worry,” I confirmed. “We have soooo much stuff. My family lives for entertaining guests. We always have spare equipment, extra coats, snow boots, you name it. My mom makes sure we have a full house of happy, rambunctious visitors. I don’t know what she’s going to do when one of us finally moves out.”
With that comment Declan’s jaw clenched, and his mouth turned downward. He lowered his eyes, sniffed, and looked away, guilty.
That little bugger had something planned. He had some little trick up his sleeve that would throw off the entire family. That spoiled little brat. Some new vice that would leave my parents moaning and groaning, ignoring me even more. I had to get to the bottom of his scheme before he revealed his plan, and released a new tidal wave of “Look at me, I’m Declan. Blah. Blah. Blah. Shower me with all of the attention.”
Leaving poor, little me in a cold, wet wake of Denversaster. Anxiety roiled in my belly. I had too many plates spinning in the air all at once. Some were about to drop, but I had no clue how to pick up the pieces. I had to prioritize, focus on what was important to me.
I shook off the bad feelings. I forced a smile back on my face. Declan seemed to do the same. He hopped up and down on Dexx’s back, urging him upstairs. Dancer yipped with delight. Poppy followed close behind, probably thinking about what lip color to choose next. I brushed off the hard feelings from this morning for some fun winter folly in my backyard.
Chapter 18
Dexx
Pristine white snow blanketed the rolling hills in back of the Davies estate. A backyard like no other, the small peaks worked well for an amateur winter sports fanatic. Debbie and Dereck spared no expense decorating their miniature ski hill with an adorable doll-sized ski lift. An inflatable Santa’s village blew back and forth in the wind, with North Pole signage on either side of the run.
Dancer ran into the snow toward the reindeer. His pink tongue hung out the side of his mouth, and flapped in the wind. He stopped, and barked at the billowy reindeer, then rolled onto his back in a fresh pile of powdery snow. His paws swam the breaststroke in the air as he wiggled with glee.
Denver pounced around the powder like a beautiful snow fox. Her platinum blonde hair and white ski coat kept her well camouflaged in the elements. She pulled me along by the arm, giggling, preventing my smile from vanishing. My cheeks stung from the icy cold, and ached from my constant grin.
“Come on,” she laughed. She tugged at my sleeve.
My heart pounded rapidly in my chest. I felt the urge to grab Denver, and hug her for warmth, but something prevented me from following through with my sudden bouts of affection for her.
I paused. My head scrambled. My thoughts teetered on the tip of my tongue then disappeared. Whoosh. I wanted to discuss my confusion with Denver, but I just couldn’t. She was the one I was confused about, and, of course Poppy.
I needed a solid friend to confide in. She was a solid girl, but I couldn’t confide in her when part of my confusion involved her and another girl. How could she possibly give me good advice about herself? I couldn’t ask Declan unless I wanted to get pounded into the ground, and crushed by Mr. Muscles. I couldn’t text my other ‘friends.’ They lacked empathy, and had big mouths. Social media would explode, and be all-abuzz with my dilemma, which would lead back to Denver, and eventually Declan and Poppy.
I had too many thoughts in my head to sort, too many ideas to grasp, and wrap my mind around, too many questions that needed answers.
“Come on,” Denver whined again, laughing. She woke me up from the black hole in my head.
We raced up the biggest hill. Dancer zipped past us. I wheezed from the climb, out of breath from the heavy snow and cold temperature.
“You got anything to eat up here?”
“We just had breakfast, silly,” Denver shoved me playfully. “I’m sure Mom will have a delicious lunch waiting for us when we get back.”
An assortment of equipment sat on the top of the hill next to several wooden benches. Skis, snowboards, snow saucers, sleds, a few pairs of snowshoes clustered in a pile.
“Look out below,” shouted a voice from behind.
I looked. Poppy came running in a bright red snowsuit. Her candy apple red lips sparkled in the sun. She waved, warning us to move out of the way. Declan shot into the air. He flew down the hill on a snowboard.
“W-W-W-o-o-o h-h-h-o-o-o,” he screamed. He sped fast toward the lake.
“Wait for me. I’m coming,” Poppy yelled. She plopped down crisscross on a saucer. She sledded down the hill after him, Dancer tumbling like a fluffy animated snowman behind her.
“Gee! Your brother can snowboard well.” Why was I shocked? He seemed to be a good skater, but I figured I would one up him in the snowboarding department. But, I guess, not so much. No such luck in that competition.
“Declan? He snowboards. He surfs. Whatever he puts his mind to, he does!” Denver groaned in a flat voice. Her flaxen hair swirled in the wind.
What didn’t this dude do? Would his superpowers ever end? “Seriously? Declan?”
“Yep! Once he sets his mind on something, boy, he excels in it. Funny. Not so funny. My brother was in diapers until he was five, maybe six, seven? Then, one day, he decided he had enough. He took off his diaper, and boom, he was potty trained. No training necessary!”
“So . . . modeling gig?”
“Same thing. Once he learned what it meant for him to model, he was unstoppable. Maybe it was the chance at freedom, a means to extra income, money that didn’t come from my parents. Or, maybe it was a shot at dating Poppy. Who knows, he won’t explain. Well, whatever the reason, he soared to, like, super stardom. And, it doesn’t hurt that girls faint when he walks by, but that’s only because they see him, like, how he looks. They don’t really see him. They don’t talk to him, get to know him. He puts up a good front. A human poster-board. I mean, once he opens his mouth to speak, a lot changes. A lot, lot!” Denver eyed me. She looked over my face for a reaction. “Anyway, Declan, the clever boy, developed a system to get by as America’s number one mannequin, the world’s hottest pin-up boy without having to say one word.”
“He bows,” I burst.
“Yes! How did you know?”
“I know,” I laughed.
“You know!” she laughed back, impressed. Her eyes glistened
in the bright sunlight.
“At the mall. Remember? I saw him, at that teeny bop store, through the window. I didn’t go inside or anything like that,” I blurted out, blushing, hoping Denver had long forgotten about the busted, eyeless Declan posters.
“You know what, Dexx? I really enjoy having these conversations with you. It was really hard for me, um, telling you all that stuff last night, like, getting it off my chest. It felt good. But, I feel like . . . I have so much left to say.”
“It’s okay. We have time.”
“Good.” Denver touched my hand, then withdrew it quickly.
“So, your brother, he models, he skates, he snowboards. Is he some kind of genius or something?”
“Declan?” Denver coughed. She laughed out loud, and rolled her eyes. “He’s dumber than a piece of wood! My brother is like the biggest moron you’ll ever meet. He’s not what you think. No genius here! He’s stubborn though. He refuses extra help at college, even though he is eligible. He’s taken the same one class like three times.”
“Whoa.”
“He . . . just doesn’t give up, I guess. He’s not smart when it comes to books, but he’s persistent.”
Denver looked off into the distance. She sighed. Her eyes blinked rapidly, sadly, for some reason. Quickly, she snapped out of her daze. “Never mind, Declan. Let’s shred some powder. Is that even a thing?”
I laughed. “How about we sled down the hill? We’ll race. Maybe I’ll let you win.”
“Oh, you’re so confident that you would win? I’m like the queen of sled hills around here. I’d kick your behind all over town.”
“You are so on, little girl.”
“Don’t you dare ‘little girl’ me, boy!”
Poppies for Christmas Page 16
