Chapter 7
I ducked as the bowl of salad flew right over my head. Damn, that chick had a good arm for someone so tiny. Maybe she played on a lot of charity softball and baseball teams. I ducked again as Brent chucked a sausage. Had I even made sausage? Okay, so when trying to stop a food-fight never get in the middle of it because you will be doing more ducking than actually stopping them. Some squash hit me in the side of the face, but Brent and Izzy did not care. Let us just say that their argument about the importance of helping out with charities had gotten a little carried away…
"Helping people makes you feel good inside!" Izzy screamed, throwing some corn.
"They'll become too dependent if you always help them!" Brent yelled back, throwing back a handful of carrots.
"Too dependent? You're one to talk! You can't even tie your own shoes!"
"STOP!" I screamed before either of them threw the utensils they were holding. And before Izzy noticed that at the moment Brent's shoes were untied. Izzy put the fork she was holding back on the table shamefully. She looked down at the floor. A piece of bread fell off her head. Brent still gripped the spoon until it was bent in half. Finally he tossed it on the ground. He spun around and stormed out of there.
"Carly, I'm so sorry-"
"Shut it, steroid arm. Brent, get back here! Now!" I shouted, cutting off Izzy.
Brent paused in the doorway before storming back to us. "What?" he asked in annoyance.
"Apologize to Ms. Reel."
"No."
"Do it or I turn her into a duck." I pulled my wand out and pointed it at Izzy. Her eyes widened so much they reminded me of flying saucers.
Brent hesitated for little less than a second before saying, "I'm sorry, Izzy, I didn't mean to lose my temper."
"It's fine," she said quietly, looking up at him. "You weren't the only one. I'm sorry too."
"Good," I huffed, more tired than I expected. "Now, Izzy, you may go change into something else and I expect you back here tomorrow for a redo breakfast."
"Uh, okay. Thank you." She hurried out of the room, looking back at least ten times. It would have been so much less stress on her neck if she had just kept her head turned back the whole time or walked backward.
"I can't believe you made me apologize!" Brent complained loudly.
"I didn't," I reminded him.
"Uh, yeah, you did."
"I gave you a choice: you could apologize or I would turn her into a duck." Now, the odds of her actually turning into a duck and not some other creature were rare, so I am glad Brent apologized. "Obviously you care about her a little bit if you didn't want her to leave you so soon."
I left the room, leaving Brent to ponder on what I had just said. I mean, what I had said was true. He had been talking to her for about an hour before the food fight. In that hour he had developed enough feelings for her to do something I had never seen him do: apologize. I smiled when I realized Izzy was already having a positive influence on him. I skipped up the stairs, suddenly filled with joy and energized by this new installment in the Brent chronicles. Justin stopped in the hall when he saw the happy look on my face.
"Does this place have a wine cellar I don't know about or something?" he asked.
"Nope," I replied. "But Brent apologized." I started doing a little dance in place.
"Uh, okay."
I stopped my happy dance. "Okay, maybe you did not hear what I said: Brent Carall apologized."
"Ok-Wow, really?" I nodded vigorously. "And I thought I heard a food fight going on."
"You did. That's why he apologized to Izzy."
"But-"
"He apologized so I wouldn't turn Izzy into a duck."
He laughed.
"I know. It's awesome how he already has feelings for her, right?"
"No, I was laughing at the idea of you actually trying to turn someone into a duck."
I glared at him and crossed my arms, even if he was totally right about how comical the idea was. He coughed unconvincingly. "Sorry."
"Anyway, Izzy's coming back for breakfast tomorrow, which means we have to have a cram session with Brent about proper manners. First we'll have to go over the proper reasons to start a food fight…" I turned and started walking away. "When I was spying on him, I also realized he does not look at people when they are talking. He just keeps eating without looking up, every single time. And he-" I realized Justin was not walking with me. I backed up so I was standing next to him, where he was looking down the stairs. "Whatcha lookin' at?"
"That."
I followed his pointed finger. At the foot of the stairs Izzy was scratching her nose. Wait, no, she was no scratching her nose. She was doing something else but she was turned so I could not see what it was. She stopped before I could get a better look. Without a glance back she left the house, slamming the door loudly behind her. I looked at Justin.
"I'm sure she was just-"
"I don't trust that girl," Justin said. "Not one bit."
"Aren't you judging her a bit too soon?"
"That's the second weird thing she's done today."
"So? I do like ten weird things everyday."
"Yeah, but when you do it it's cute, when she does it it's suspicious."
It took me a few seconds to process entirely what he had said. "What?"
Justin coughed unconvincingly again. "I just, uh, don't think she's telling us the whole truth."
"Well, I think she is." Admittedly, that was a half-lie. "If you don't agree with me, that's fine. Just don't ruin this for Brent."
"You really want him out of this house so badly you're willing to trust just about anyone who walks in our door?"
"I don't just want him out of this house, I want both of you out of this house."
"Oh, that's even bet-"
"Let me finish." God, boys are so impatient. "I want you both out of this house so you can do something with your lives. I've heard you playing your guitar and piano. You're great. But, how are you ever going to get anywhere if you're stuck in this castle, house, thingy?"
He paused for a second. Some emotion passed in his eyes that I could not quite figure out. "Fine, I won't get involved. I'll leave Brent's love life to you to worry about."
"Thank you."
"Just watch out for Izzy."
"I will." We nodded to each other and started walking opposite ways down the hall to our rooms.
"Carly?"
I looked over my shoulder "Yeah?"
"Could you tell Laurent to stop slipping red sox into the washer when I'm washing my sheets?"
I laughed. "Maybe."
"Why maybe? What do I have to do to get a definite yes?"
Something about the look in his eye told me he was no longer talking about Laurent's petty shenanigans. "A little bit more than just a simple question."
"I'll be sure to remember that." He kept walking down the hall.
When I turned I saw Ms. Raggs on one of the tables in the hallway. I heard her snicker quietly. "What?"
"Nothing, dear," she said good-naturedly, "nothing at all."
