Once school was over, I began walking toward the parking lot where Angela and I usually met.
I smiled, spotting Angela with her pink frames steaming as she tried to tame her frizzed ponytail. She couldn't. I watched as she gave up, grabbing her glasses and wiping the fog it had gathered. "How's it going?" I asked, catching a glimpse of Bella angrily leaving the office and heading to her truck.
I shook it off as her probably having a bad time in her last class, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something must have happened to piss her off that badly. I remind myself to ask her the next time I see her.
"Horrible," Angela mumbled, fixing her glasses on her face before shouldering her backpack. I eyed her warily. It was uncharacteristic for Angela to be pessimistic, but it wasn't uncalled for as she clued me in on her day.
"You're telling me Eric took credit for your idea?" I was annoyed not at Eric but more at Angela as I tilted my head, giving her a quick glare. She sighed in defeat; she was seated on her knees in the passenger seat as we waited for Isaac. Angela moved her backpack so she could sit down properly, but I had a feeling it was to also avoid my stare.
"You need to start putting your foot down, Ang," I paused, sitting up and looking before us. The car was parked in front of our old middle school; the windows fogged up from the cold. I could practically hear her rolling her eyes.
"I'm not a pushover if that's what you're implying. I choose my battles carefully." I shook my head in disagreement, turning on the car, the school's final bell ringing, signaling the end of the day for the middle schoolers.
"I beg to differ," I muttered. Angela ignored me as usual when we had opposing opinions on handling things. I spotted Isaac waving bye to his friends before sprinting to the car. His jacket was off and tied to his backpack - a trend the boys were starting to do. I rolled my eyes when he tripped over his own feet. Angela gasped in concern, getting out of the car.
Like a mother to their toddler, she cooed over Isaac, checking to ensure he was okay. He swatted her hands away from him as she continued. Isaac blushed, mortified that this was happening in front of his peers. "Stop," he grumbled, nudging her hands out of his face.
We made eye contact; his annoyance still lingered on his face, but his eyes brightened. His smile grew wide, showing off the dimple on his left cheek; ignoring Angela completely, he took off towards the passenger seat.
"Elanor!" he cheered. His hazel eyes looked more green due to the blue thermal he had on, his dark curls sticking to his sweaty forehead. He ran a few more steps to get to me in the car, leaving Angela behind. Ironically, Isaac, who Ang always dotted on, had a favorite twin, and it wasn't her. I sighed, ignoring his millions of questions about what today was like for us and if he could buy some ice cream and snacks at the store. I glanced at Angela through the review mirror, who looked bitter in the backseat.
We had assumed it was a phase since Isaac was a baby, prone to gravitate towards me - I didn't mind as I liked his chubby cheeks. Still, Angela, who adored him, was always dumbfounded about why the same affection wasn't shared with her.
"We have the same face!" she had complained as Isaac's baby wailings turned into screeches, and his chubby arms reached for me. We were seated on the couch; Mom had passed Isaac to Angela, who insisted she'd be careful. I bit my lip from boasting how I was finally someone's favorite. I took Isaac from Angela and cradled him before lightly poking his nose.
His screeching calmed down to heavy breathing as he grabbed the few strands of my hair. "No, no," my baby voice coming out as if it were second nature. "El doesn't want to smell like baby's breath," I added, wiggling his tiny hands from my hair as gently as possible. This caused him to giggle hysterically, which prompted Angela to move closer to me and slowly shift him onto her lap. Once his chubby fingers were free from my black, now tangled hair, his focus shifted back to Angela.
She gave him a few pecks on his cheeks before shifting him up and down on her lap, hoping to earn her some brownie points with the baby. It didn't. Before Mom could interject, Isaac started to puke on her glasses and cardigan down to the new Levi's we had gotten that weekend. My nose twitched as if remembering the pungent smell she gave off. I grimaced at the memory, shifting the gears to drive out of the parking lot.
"Buckle up," I sighed; Angela got comfortable in the back as I drove home. "Can we please stop by the grocery store? Please?" Isaac begged for what seemed the millionth time. We paused, waiting for the light to turn green, the rain starting to pour more than before.
I shook my head at his request, Angela explaining that there were snacks at home that mom hid in the garage. "What if there isn't?" He complained, kicking his bag that overlapped Ang's. I turned into our neighborhood once it was our turn to go.
"Then I'll take you to the store, and we can grab whatever snack you want." He seemed hopeful with that answer and kept quiet for the rest of the drive. Parking in the driveway, Isaac sprinted to the front door, slamming the car door on his way out. "I hate him," Angela muttered, leaning over the passenger seat to grab her backpack. I chuckled as her struggling arms tried to reach for her bag.
She huffed, pursing her lips in distaste and concentration. "Lemme help," I pulled her bag towards her, to which she gave a quick thanks. She checked that her bag was closed before we left the car and ran to the house.
I tripped into the side of Dad's car, my shoes slipping from the wet ground. My lack of hand-eye coordination failed me once again. I groaned, rubbing my hip that had slammed into the metal. "You okay, El?" Dad had asked. He was standing at the front of the house with a huge umbrella ready and open for us. Angela was already under it and shivering from the cold air.
Dad had his favorite green trench coat on, his dark brown hair peppered with white from old age, standing out more due to the color. That still didn't stop Dad from looking good. Dad had always been known for his looks and charms, especially when he was younger - if his old yearbook photos had anything to say about it. People around town always joke about how Fork's notorious priest would model on the side until Dr. Cullen came into the picture. Dad's popularity seemed to diminish, but Dad wasn't fazed nor cared for superficial things. He was an upstanding guy who genuinely cared for everyone but had no backbone, which is where Angela gets it from.
On the other hand, Mom wasn't as famous but still considered pretty and had a lot going on for herself. From what I remember in the stories, Tia Julia would say she was a genius. Mom could have gone to any Ivy League school she wanted but chose a school close to home, which she and Dad promised to attend since they were childhood friends.
I looked up at the big Disney umbrella Dad had bought because Angela and I had begged him to when we were younger. Yes, we were daddy's girls and took advantage of it when we wanted to.
I winced at the throbbing pain in my hip. Bringing me back to reality, I light rubbed it to ease the pain. "Yeah, just a little bruising." Dad kissed my forehead, one hand on the umbrella, the other hand firmly grabbing onto my arm to support me from slipping onto the icy floor. Angela walked ahead of us.
"How was work?" Ang asked, taking off her boots and coat. I quickly unzipped my wet jacket and chucked my shoes to the side. Dad was too focused on the umbrella before grunting, "It was good." I hung my coat with Angela's before heading to the kitchen.
Isaac had already set up his homework on the Island counter that overlooked the kitchen. "So where are these snacks Angie was talkin' about?" He raised an eyebrow, questioning if she was telling the truth. I smiled at him, "The snacks are in the garage under the hood of the old Impala," I paused, grabbing grape juice from the fridge and pouring myself a glass.
"I saw Mom load them in there with the code," I added, siping. Isaac sighed with exhaustion; his hazel eyes were now a golden brown. "I don't know the code to unlock the car." I chuckled at how far Mom would prevent Isaac from eating all the snacks in one sitting. "I'll go grab you something." I left the used cup in the sink before heading to the garage. I can hear Dad busying himself in the kitchen while Angela is nowhere to be seen. She was more than likely in our room working on homework.
I switched the lights on to glance around the garage. I spotted the dark blue of the Chevy Impala, basically sparkling from the lack of touch, except for the occasional hiding place or typical "Me time," as Dad likes to say. He'll marvel at the car and sit in it for hours. Before Angela and I were born, Dad had been working on the Impala. It was his first car since he went to Forks High School. Unfortunately, the engine had stopped working years ago, and buying a new one would put our family into debt.
So, like any man who hoped to be "blessed with riches," Dad kept the car in the garage. It was an unspoken rule never to mess with the car, so there was a code under the handle of the driver's side installed to prevent us from messing with it. I checked to see if the car was still locked, it was. I pressed the code before opening the door, glancing at the front of the car and noticing the snacks littered in an open box in the back. I reached for Isaac's favorite chips. Grabbing three for him to snack on before closing the driver's side.
This should keep him full until mom comes home,' I thought, stubbing my toe on Isaac's left-out skateboard. "Ugh, nutters!" I groaned, dropping the chips and taking care of my foot. I sat on the ground, careful not to sit on Isaac's snacks, while assessing the damage to my toe. "Good, good," I muttered to myself. No blood and no bruising.
I rubbed my foot more, chanting, "Sana sana colita de rana." A childish rhyme our mother would whisper into our ears as she rubbed the pain away. Flexing my toes in front of me, I took notice of the boxes behind my foot.
Right in front of the skateboard were Grandma's old boxes. The same ones mom was trying her best to get rid of before Dad noticed them. I bite my lips, knowing Mom would kill me if I went through them. However, at this moment, I didn't care nor give her angry reaction a second thought.
I licked my lips before checking each box for the journals in there. After scrummaging through two of the smaller boxes, I found the journals. They were covered by old lace table covers that grandma had sewen during her free time. I smiled at the memory before taking it out and checking each journal.
They were still smaller than the usual built-up journals but were thick and filled with written stories and thoughts. I couldn't stop the grin from spreading as my fingers tingled with the excitement of reading what Grandma had in these books. I shoved two journals under my arms before grabbing Isaac's snacks. I could hear Dad rummaging around in front of the garage door entrance.
I did my best to cover the boxes and ensure they looked identical to when Mom placed them there. I rushed to the door before Dad took notice as he opened it. "Oh my goodness! El!" He shouted with a sudden surprise.
"I thought you were upstairs with Ang?" He accused. I smiled apologetically, showing the snacks to him. "Isaac doesn't know the code to the car and has been wanting a snack." Dad gave me a stern look, his brown eyes cold with suspicion, but he nodded anyway. I again smiled, passing him and into the kitchen.
Handing the chips to Isaac, I escaped to my room before either one noticed the journals I had just stolen.