School.
Would I even be going to school after winter break? An uneasy feeling crept into my belly. I hadn’t really felt all that attached to high school before last night, but now the thought of giving it up, the idea of moving on with my life already felt so… final. So… depressing.
With another sigh, only this one sounding more disgruntled and angry than happy, I threw the covers off and sat up in bed. With men downstairs, it was probably a good idea to get dressed before breakfast. That would mean a bra. Definitely a bra. Although a part of me rebelled against the idea of wearing anything but sweats while eating chocolate chip pancakes, I didn’t see much other choice.
Just like my future.
Ok, get a grip.
I laughed a little, and forced myself to smile again. I was being absolutely ridiculous about the whole thing. Whatever happened would be for the best, I believed that, it was just easy to forget and I didn’t want to wallow in self-pity. That wasn’t who I was, or who I was born to be.
Besides, I didn’t actually know anything for certain and I wasn’t going to get any answers staring into my closet, willing them to appear.
With a final, determined decision to face whatever the next step of my life was going to be with a good attitude, I stood up and walked into my narrow walk-in closet. I chose the workout outfit I would wear later in the day, no sense in dirtying more clothes than necessary. And then shimmied into track pants over my short, red running shorts. Adding a zip up jacket over my nylon tank top, I pulled my golden hair into a loose bun on the nape of my neck without brushing it.
Deciding makeup was not necessary this morning, I left my room for the bathroom and a quick wash of the face. Staring at myself in the round mirror, I wondered if I looked any different now that the Protectorship was technically mine. My skin tone was the same flawless bronze that Seth’s was, a byproduct of our natural inner light; even without actually glowing, we still kind of glowed so to speak. The girls at school envied me for my great skin, and I thanked them leaving out the fact that it was a byproduct of fighting demons. My eyes were still frighteningly pale blue, like the color of really frozen ice, not just the cubes, more like polar ice caps. My eyes were my least favorite feature; they were too pale… to other-worldly. And they were so freaking big! Why did they have to be so big? I was convinced I looked like a tan dead person or the big bad wolf.
The better to see you with my dear….
Splashing more cold water on my face I wondered if other Stars worried about the shade of their eyes or were embarrassed of their skin tone. Or maybe, born and raised in the lowest level of Heaven, and then sent to light up the galaxy and protect the universe, they had never even seen their reflection in a mirror.
Huh.
Vanity was surely not an asset they possessed though, not something they lived with. And with that thought I left the bathroom in search of the traditional Sunday breakfast Annabelle always made for me. Other than saving humanity, eating chocolate chip pancakes had to be my second favorite event ever.
I bounded down the servant stairs and into the kitchen expecting to greet Annabelle’s happy face and a plate full of steaming hot chocolate chip pancakes, like every other Sunday morning of my life when my parents were out of town. The chocolate chip pancakes were there, but Annabelle’s face wasn’t so much happy as it was terrifying and angry.
The whole atmosphere of the kitchen felt ripe with an awkward confrontation on the verge of a cataclysmic explosion and I immediately tensed with anxiety. I hoped Annabelle wasn’t mad at me, although I worried now that maybe Annabelle didn’t remember me coming to her room last night and was very surprised to find a house full of men when she woke up this morning.
“Good morning,” I greeted Annabelle who was at the stove with her back to the rest of the room, rigid as a pole. Jupiter sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and reading the Sunday morning newspaper. When no one answered, I tried to encourage more conversation. “Annabelle do you remember me coming to your room last night? I don’t know if you had a chance to meet Jupiter this morning, but he’s is a friend-“
“Oh, we’ve met,” Annabelle cut me off with uncharacteristic shortness. She was usually direct and alarmingly to the point, a personality trait that had taken half my childhood to get used to. But we had such a strong relationship now, that I couldn’t imagine what had set her off.
Jupiter grunted then, a disgruntled snort of disapproval and it dawned on me exactly what the problem was. Annabelle half turned around to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. Shaking her spatula in the air irritably, she focused her attention back on flipping pancakes.
“Stella, how many pancakes would you like?” Annabelle asked, her frustration masked with a forcefully sweet tone.
“Um, four. No, wait, five,” Annabelle loaded up my plate with her perfectly fluffy, deliciously chocolaty pancakes and I couldn’t help myself but call out again, “Wait! Six. I want six pancakes and no more!” I finished dramatically, waving my hand in the air as if Annabelle was the one forcing me to eat so many.
Annabelle delivered the hefty plate to the table, along with a bottle of warmed up maple syrup. I eyed my breakfast with a ravenous hunger, my eyes gleaming with gluttony. This time when Annabelle smiled down at me, her expression was real, shaped with true affection and amusement.
“Don’t worry,” I explained to no one in particular, in between delicious mouthfuls of carbs. “Tristan and I are running later, so I’ll work this all off.”
“Who’s Tristan?” Jupiter asked, already positive he wouldn’t like the answer.