CHAPTER THREE:
The Two Fruitcakes
As I had not gotten to sleep until about 5 AM, I wasn't out of my bed until after ten o'clock. Tina was asleep in a bed nearby. I quickly dressed in the bathroom and then made my bed.
When I entered the kitchen, I found my parents sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. "We've already finished the kitchen," my dad informed me. "Go wake up your sister and tell her to help us unpack." He sounded crabby. He never seemed to be able to get out of bed after 7:30, so he probably got a maximum of three hours of sleep.
"Sure," I said, stifling a yawn.
"Get up." That didn't seem to work. "Get up," I repeated, poking her in the side. She made a loud snore and rolled over. I got out my yo-yo and played with it on her face. That got her up.
"Hey, ow! You jerk!"
"Get up and help mom and dad unpack."
By three PM, we were about half way done putting everything in place. My room was about the same size as my room in my old house, and had one fairly large rectangular window that currently overlooked a fat kid chasing a skinny kid that looked about my age around number four's front lawn. I had a bad feeling about the fat kid. I could see his hysterical laughing as he pursued the skinny kid around the garden. He didn't look very nice.
BONG. I jerked up in surprise, banging my head against the window. "Ouch!" What was that noise? As I peered around my bedroom door, I heard the front door open. Of course! That was the doorbell. But what an odd-sounding and very loud doorbell it was. I didn't like that doorbell.
As I bounded down the stairs to see who it was, I saw a very stiff looking couple greeting my mom, dad, and Tina.
"Oh, and this is our son Conrad," my mom told the stiff-looking couple.
"Hi." I shook their hands. Judging by the fact that the woman wrinkled her nose when my mom introduced me, this neighbor didn't approve of my name.
The neighbors wished us welcome to the country in thick British accents and thrust a store-bought fruitcake into my mom's hands. They quickly left.
"Friendly people," my dad said, eyeing the fruitcake with hunger. I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
"That lady wrinkled her nose at me!" Tina said in disgust. Okay, so it wasn't just me. Maybe she didn't approve of Americans altogether.
"She did that to me too."
My dad was cutting the fruitcake on the kitchen table. I don't like fruitcake. It feels like eating a wet sponge with chunks of dried stuff in it.
It was five thirty and we had been really packing for the last two and a half hours. Still, there were countless boxes of stuff in the family room. I picked one up to bring to my room. Tina was sitting on the couch, reading a muggle magazine called 'YM.'
"Tina, what are you doing?" I asked incredulously. She didn't hear me. Or, at least, she pretended not to hear me. I moved closer and gave her a stern look. "Tina, stop reading that 'YM' magazine and get packing!"
"Who are you to tell me what to do?"
"We don't want to have to be packing tomorrow do we?"
She shrugged."
"Tina, get your rear into gear and take a box upstairs to your –"
BONG. I jerked in surprise and dropped my box on Tina's 'sensitive' toe, whose magazine simultaneously went flying as she screeched in pain. "Ow! You stupid, bratty –"
"Shut up, both of you!"
"But mom, I didn't say anything, it was Ti –"
My dad swung the door open and I fell silent. In the entrance of the door was a beefy man, a tall, skinny woman, and the fat kid that chased the skinny kid earlier. I walked over to the door and Tina gave me a menacing glare as she hobbled over and stood next to my dad in the doorway.
"Hello, and welcome to Privet Drive," the man said with false cheeriness. "I'm Vernon Dursley, this is my wife Petunia, and our son Dudley." He sounded like he had rehearsed these lines earlier.
My mom and dad and Vernon and Petunia began an idle chat-to-kill-the-time-and-pretend-to-be-friendly session.
"So, what brings you out to England?" Petunia asked with even falser cheeriness that Vernon.
"We got a business opportunity that we just couldn't pass up."
"Which state were you from?" Vernon inquired.
It was more like a question and answer interrogation. Vernon and Petunia would take turns asking questions and my parents would answer. I started to get bored. Dudley seemed to have gotten tired of the interview after the first question and stared at the flowers by the front door.
After a few more minutes, Vernon decided it was time to make up an excuse to leave. "We'd better get going and prepare dinner. Nice meeting you."
Petunia produced a store-bought fruitcake from a paper bag that read 'Harry Wallace's Grocery' and shoved it into my mom's hands. They quickly hurried off.
"Oh great, another fruit cake," I said.