floating | ✓

33| sam

"Color your skies with the palette you choose, because they represent your soul in a way every music has its own notes."

-dilshazainab

33| sam

The exams end soon enough. I haven't said much to Oliver lately. We haven't been alone in a while.

I toss and turn in my bed. I don't have to wake up early because our school closed after the exams had ended. We have Thanksgiving break now.

I woke up early anyway. I'm wasting my time in my bed, overthinking about me and Oliver.

I hear the bell ring. As I make my way downstairs, I see Mom opening the door.

Samuel Bradbury is home.

"Mom!" Sam says as he hugs mom.

I am angry at him so I stand on the staircase looking down at him, narrowing my eyes.

Sam drops his bags on the floor. He catches sight of me.

"Oi, G," he says. I narrow my eyes even more.

My brother looks disgusting. He has long hair falling around his face. He can pull them back in a ponytail if he pleases.

I scrunch up my nose. I want to throw up. Harry Styles might look good with long hair, but my brother isn't Harry Styles.

"Why that look?" Sam says going to the kitchen as I follow him. I need breakfast.

He takes a raw cookie from the tray Mom is about to bake. Mom scolds him and slaps in his wrist. Sam laughs and eats it anyway.

Look how he lights up everything as soon as he arrives.

"So what's going on with you?" Sam says as he looks for food in the cabinets. He doesn't forget to ruffle my hair on his way.

"Hey!" I protest loudly. I hate when he does that.

"What has been going on with our little G?" he says as he finds a tin of biscuits.

What's going on with me?

"Nothing," I say. "Just so you know, you look disgusting."

Mom mumbles, "Don't say it like that."

I roll my eyes.

Sam protests, "Hey, I look hot!"

"'I look blah blah,'" I mimic him. "Honestly, you look so bad that it makes me want to throw up on your face. You look worse than Justin Bieber from 2015."

"Mom!" Sam says. "Your daughter is bullying me! I just got home after a year and a half, and this is what I get!"

Mom chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah," I say. "You deserve worse."

My brother rolls his eyes. We banter as we eat this and that. Mom bakes the cookies, and we fight to finish them.

The next day we are in the kitchen again, and Mom is lecturing us.

"You two, get everything from the list. If you miss one thing," Mom warns again.

Mom pours herself a glass of wine. She is wearing a facial mask. She looks comical. Don't tell her.

"Get the things and come back home immediately," Mom says.

I groan. What is torture? Torture is your mom sending you off to grocery shopping with your big brother.

I groan. "Can I not go? Sam can do this alone!"