Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to DeGrassi, it's characters, or it's storylines. The following is purely fictional.
Emma Nelson stood in her old room, which now belonged to her baby brother, Jack. He was 15 months old, and was learning how to do all the cute things toddlers do. Just yesterday he said his first word, "Emma" proving how much he was loved by his big sister. He was an expert walker by now, in fact he had gotten loose around the house a couple times and Emma had to chase him down. She peered over his crib. He had beautiful blue eyes, and was staring at her, his gaze unfaltering. Suddenly his big eyes filled with tears and he started whining. She sighed, imagining the pain he was going through. Teething wasn't easy. Sharp white things poking through your soft, delicate gums? No thank you. She picked him up, rocked him, and gave him a teething ring. She looked at the ticking clock overhead, which told her it was nearing eleven. It was like this every night. Emma had volunteered to take care of him, so her parents wouldn't have to get up in the middle of the night. She had taken to sleeping in Jack's room, on the old rocking chair. She could faintly remember being rocked by her mother as a child.
Jack finally fell asleep, for now at least. She gently set him back in his crib, and the phone rang. She rushed over to it, picking it up before it could disturb her brother's dreams.
"Hello?" she said, annoyed. She wasn't expecting the voice that came from the other end.
"Emmaliiiiiine."
She shut her eyes. Chester, her backyard neighbor. She hadn't really talked to him since school ended, about a month ago. What could he possibly want?
"What is it?" she said sharply, not resisting the urge to be rude.
"Nothing, really. Just thought I'd call. I hope I didn't wake your brother."
How did he know she had just put Jack to sleep?
"I'm really tired. It's Sunday night. I need sleep. Good-bye." She almost slammed down the phone, stopping at the last second and gently setting down the receiver. She walked over to the rocking chair, her oversized t-shirt draped over it. She pulled off her tank top and shorts, revealing her pink matching bra and underwear. She reached for her shirt, but just then the phone rang again. She answered it quickly, knowing who it was.
"What!"
"Look out your window."
"Okay..." She strolled over to her window, stopping dead when she saw Chester, phone in his hand, leaning out of his bedroom window. She gazed, open-mouthed, and put the receiver to her ear again.
"You-"
"Nice bra, Emmaline." With that, he hung up and laughed uproariously, so loud she could hear him through her brother's closed bedroom window. She scrambled to put her shirt on, went over to the window, and pulled the shades.
The next morning Emma woke up to the sound of clattering dishes in the kitchen. She groaned. Don't be trying to cook, Mom, pleeeeease don't be trying to cook, she thought. Lately Spike had been trying to cook meals from scratch. Instead of using pancake mix for breakfast like a normal person she was trying to make it from her own weird recipe. The worst was when she attempted to bake a cake for Snake's birthday. The cakes itself wasn't all that bad, but she had to go and try to make her own icing. It tasted absolutely appalling. Emma had to sneak off to the garbage can and scrape off all the icing. She thought she saw Craig doing the same for his piece and Angie's. The adults just bore with it, eating as little icing as possible.
Emma was extra-careful not to stand by any windows when she was changing this morning. She walked downstairs, dreading what she'd be eating in a few moments' time. She rounded the corner of the kitchen, but couldn't smell anything burning, or cooking. She saw Spike bent over, rummaging through the cabinets, pots and pans strewn about.
"Mom?" she asked tentively, stepping over a soup pan to her mother. Spike lifted her head out of the cabinet, and turned around.
"Emma, I need you to do something for me," she said, getting up and wiping her hands with a dishtowel.
"You need me to taste something?" Emma said, trying not to grimace.
"What? No, that's not it." Spike walked over to the counter, pulling a ten-dollar bill out of her purse. She turned around to face her daughter, handing over the money. Emma took it, confused. "I need you to run down to the store. I need macaroni noodles. And mayo. I'm making macaroni salad."
Emma was slightly shocked. "You're not making... homemade mayo... and homemade noodles?" Spike had made homemade spaghetti before, her own sauce and noodles; Emma couldn't understand how macaroni salad would be much harder.
Spike shook her head. "No time. The block party is today. I forgot I signed up to make macaroni salad. I have to have it in three hours!"
"Okay. Any other ingredients? Celery? You can't make that yourself."
Spike nodded. "I think I'll need everything." She reached in her purse and pulled out another ten. "That should be enough. Go!"
Emma was ushered out the door before she could run down to her bedroom and brush her hair, maybe put on some eyeliner. She blinked for a moment, the sunlight being so bright, and headed down to the corner store.
She got to the end of the block, walked in the store, and looked for the needed items. Tuna, celery, eggs- did they have eggs? She'd get them just in case- mayo, and macaroni noodles. She paid the cashier, who put her groceries in a brown paper bag, and headed toward the exit. She was about to open the door, one arm wrapped around the paper bag, when Chester came in, facing backwards, and opened the door right into Emma. The bag was knocked out of her protection; it fell to the ground. The eggs didn't stand a chance.
Chester bent down, realizing what he had done. It didn't stop him from laughing at the fact there was egg yolk splattered all over Emma's pants. She grabbed the celery from him, shoved it in the yolk-ridden bag, give him a cold glare, and walked home without a word.