Zoey III (Patreon)

Everyone was gone. All the guests, the officiant, the servers, the bride and groom; everyone except Zoey, Ajax, and their grandma. Nana sat at one end of the small dining room table and eyed her grandchildren, who were currently locked in a battle of wills with their dinner plates. The only observer of the current detente was Zoey’s dog, Max, who had already declared his complete lack of interest in the proceedings by spitting the slimy, stringy piece of squash Zoey had slipped to him back out on her shoe.

Finally, Nana clicked her tongue and stood up, plucking the half-full plates from in front of each of her grandchildren. Ajax yelped and made a half-hearted swipe for the vanishing food, but Zoey knew better. That click meant her grandma was done putting up with them, and whatever came next, it was Nana’s way or the highway.

“You two made your beds, and now you’re gonna lie in ‘em,” Nana said, decisively. “You don’t want your dinner? Fine, then you’ll both go hungry until you can thank the good Lord for His bounty.”

Zoey absolutely would not roll her eyes, but Ajax clearly hadn’t spent enough time with their grandma.

“God didn’t have anything to do with grits and spaghetti squash, Nana,” he said. “If anything-”

The gnarled brown finger suddenly hovering in front of his nose stopped him, as if the narrow-eyed glare wasn’t enough. “Baby, don’t you finish that sentence. Grits and spaghetti squash is good, and good for you, and after all the cake and canapes I saw you two shoveling in, you sure need something with actual vitamins in it.” Nana hefted the two plates, which were piled high with buttery grits and squash slathered in tomato sauce. “You sure neither of you wants to eat? You’re just going to have some fried grits for breakfast, and that squash will be seeing you again at lunch.”

Zoey’s stomach churned. She knew the old woman meant every word, and that future-Zoey would hate present-Zoey for this choice, but just because a food had the word ‘spaghetti’ in its name, that didn’t make it pasta. Fried grits, on the other hand, were better than the gloopy kind, so she’d have to make sure she ate enough that Nana would let it slide if she didn’t have much lunch.

She pushed back her chair and pasted a smile on her face. “Thank you, Nana. I must have eaten too much today. I’m just not hungry.” Beneath the table, Max scrambled to his feet, claws clicking on the tiles.

Her grandma’s eyes softened as they rested on Zoey. “It was a big day for you, baby girl. You go on up to bed, now.”

Zoey resolutely kept her eyes off the display on the microwave, which read eight thirty-two. Nana regularly quoted the old saying, ‘Early to bed, early to rise, makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise’. Not that going to bed early seemed to apply to Nana herself, since Zoey had caught the woman sitting on the couch at midnight, watching horror movies, more than once. Of course, that didn’t stop her from waking everyone up at seven a.m. sharp, too. Zoey wasn’t actually sure her grandma slept at all.

Stepping around the side of the table, Zoey leaned over and gave her grandma a careful hug. The old woman was a power unto herself, but she was even shorter than Zoey, and looked like she’d snap in a stiff breeze. A wiry arm wrapped around Zoey’s shoulders and hugged tightly, without ever losing her iron grip on the plates. “There you go,” Nana said warmly. “You head on up, and take this boy with you.”

Zoey nodded and stepped backward, managing to stomp on Ajax’s foot as the boy opened his mouth to protest. His eyes flashed from the clock to the refrigerator, and Zoey knew what he was thinking; the fridge was stuffed with delicious, high-calorie leftovers, and it wasn’t even nine yet. But Nana had spoken, and that was that. Zoey’s dad left her with her grandma for at least a week every year, and she could have scripted this conversation down to the ‘thank the good Lord’, so she already had contingency plans.

Ajax’s eyes met hers. They were the same rich brown as Nana’s, Zoey’s dad’s, Aunt Danika’s, and Uncle Milo’s, and, not for the first time, Zoey both appreciated the uniqueness of her lighter hazel irises, and felt a little left out all at once. Zoey’s cousin opened his mouth as if to protest, and she dug her heel into his instep a little harder. He yanked his foot away, muttering, “Whatever,” though the impact was somewhat diminished by the loud growling of his stomach.

Nana crossed to the counter and set the two plates down. From somewhere, she produced two shower-cap-like plate covers and wrapped them securely, before opening the refrigerator in search of a place to put them. Zoey was certain the plastic covers hadn’t been in her house before, but then again, she was certain that there were no grits either, and spaghetti squash was definitely out of season. Still, Nana did as Nana did, and nothing in the universe was going to prevent her from doing it.

The three of them exchanged good nights with varying levels of civility, and Zoey soon found herself climbing the stairs toward the bedrooms, with Ajax trailing along behind her. Max, ever hopeful, opted to remain in the kitchen as long as food was still in play.

Zoey’s door was first, and she opened it, then caught her cousin’s sleeve as he started to walk past, on his way to the cramped guest room. She didn’t really feel like doing what she was about to do, but her dad had actually asked her to be nosy, and she had to admit that was kind of her superpower.

Well, one of them.

Zoey held a finger over her lips, shot a glance down the darkened hall, and listened for any sound of the stairs creaking. Instead, there came the distinct sound of tinfoil crinkling, and then the microwave door opened, and her eyes narrowed. The dinner Nana had prepared for them was still warm, but all the wedding leftovers were cold and covered in foil. Plus, Max hadn’t come bounding up the stairs the way he did when he saw that all hope of second-dinner was gone.

“Et tu, Nana?” she muttered, and crooked a finger for Ajax to follow her into her room. Once they were both inside, she tiptoed to her bed and silently pulled a long, flat box out from under the bed. Kneeling beside it, she opened the flaps, showing her cousin the soda, bags of chips, packages of cookies, and rows of cup-noodles contained within. She might have to pretend to make hot tea in order to get water to rehydrate the dried soup, but she wasn’t going to be reduced to eating spaghetti squash or pickled okra any time soon.

Ajax’s eyes grew wide, and without even asking, he snatched up a bag of shrimp chips. Pulling them open, he stuffed a puffed, slightly sweet, crispy chip into his mouth and moaned. “Where’d you get all this, fam?” he hissed, spraying chip-chunks as he spoke, though she noticed he at least covered his mouth in a belated attempt at politeness this time. Clearly, gratitude was the path to manners for this one.

She shrugged and picked up a six-sided box of chocolate-cream-filled koala cookies. “I went shopping with Jace last weekend. We told Dad it was for Jace’s family road trip, but his mom absolutely banned snack foods after what happened with the doughnuts and orange soda last time. Anyway, I stashed these here because-” she tilted her head toward the kitchen meaningfully.

“Is she always like that?” Ajax asked through another mouthful of chips.

Zoey nodded. “Dad says she hardly ever cooked when they were kids, because she was usually working at least two jobs, and he thinks she feels guilty, even though she shouldn’t.” She did roll her eyes this time. “I mean, her kids turned out to be a college professor, a lawyer, and a pretty well-known sports commentator, so she did all right.”

Ajax made a face. “What’s with that nasty squash, though? Does she not know that just because it’s called spaghetti doesn’t make it pasta?”

Snorting a laugh, Zoey shrugged. “Oh, she knows. You wait. There will be no white bread or pasta for the next four days. It’ll be all lean meat and vegetables, mostly boiled to within an inch of their lives.”

Ajax eyed the huge box of snacks and lowered his voice. “Is this going to be enough?”

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “It had better be. If it isn’t, it’ll be your fault.” Once she saw that he’d taken the hint, she leaned back, popping another koala in her mouth. “Dad made her promise to let us play Veritas, too. I have a quest I’ve been putting off, and he figured it’d be a great ‘bonding experience’ for us.” She made finger quotes and rolled her eyes, but her cousin’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah! Tess said you have a full immersion pod, right? I mean, like the one Alph- Uh, Bree used when she reviewed the new system.” He sat back, leaning against the side of the bed and shaking his head. “I can’t believe Bree Stephenson’s your new mom. So boujee.”

Zoey looked down at the little tennis-playing koala she held, then stuffed it back into the bag. She wasn’t really as hungry as she’d thought she was. “Yeah. It’s… cool.” She, too, leaned against the side of the bed, laying her head on the mattress. “We’re going to have to move, though. This house is too small. So, I’m probably going to be in a different school senior year, and Jace won’t be my neighbor anymore.”

Ajax stared at her. “WTH? This house is great. It’s, like, three times as big as our condo, and you have a yard.”

She laughed, her idea of his fancy big-city home crumbling a little. “Yeah, but we only have the three bedrooms, and once the baby comes, that won’t be enough.” She couldn’t help the hint of bitterness that crept into her voice, and in the dimness of her own bedroom, it seemed like that might be okay, just for a minute.

“Dang, fam,” Ajax shook his head, hesitating only briefly before he popped open another bag of chips. “Most of my friends only have two or three bedrooms, and you wouldn’t believe how many kids you can cram in there if you really try. My man Pete sleeps on a mattress in a walk-in closet, and he’s the lucky one. All his siblings have to share a room.”

Zoey blinked. That was really small. She knew she was actually pretty lucky, but none of her friends had to sleep in a closet. At least not as far as she knew. “I… guess you’re right. I mean, this house should be fine, right?”

She looked around, taking in the room that was just large enough for her bed, a tiny desk, a dresser, and the game pod that was crammed against the wall. The master bedroom was a good bit larger, but the guest bedroom, which now held her old pod, as well as a narrow bed, was even smaller. Honestly, the back yard was the size of a postage stamp, but her dad didn’t really like doing yardwork, and it was big enough for Max to run around in during the day. Babies were small, so if they just swapped the guest bed for a crib, surely that would be enough. For a year, anyway. Just long enough for her to finish highschool and go to college. Then she could get out from under their feet, and let them live their new lives without her in the way.

An unspoken resentment that had been simmering in her belly ever since Bree and Marcus told her they were planning to move finally boiled over. “It’s not like there’s anything wrong with this house. It was plenty big for me and my dad for years, and Dad promised he wouldn’t move until I finished school, and now there’s Bree, and the baby, and suddenly what I want isn’t important anymore.” She sniffled. “They didn’t even ask me if I wanted to move!”

Ajax popped the tab on a can of soda and lifted it in her direction before taking a drink. “I hear you, fam. My mom is just waiting for me to finish school so she can marry the potato without having to worry about me. At least I know they’re not gonna pop out any more babies, ‘cause she tells me often enough that after me, she didn’t want any more kids.” His eyes shifted back to the box, and he leaned forward, suddenly intent on looking through the small, crinkling bags. “Gross. What are peanut puffs? You have some weird stuff in here.”

Zoey was about to defend her snack choices when she heard the tell-tale click-click of Max’s claws on the stairs. Quickly, she shoved the box back under the bed, yanking the can from Ajax’s hand and stuffing it behind her just as the door creaked open, revealing Nana’s wrinkled face and allowing the dog to slip inside. Immediately, Max headed for the dangling bit of blanket that concealed the side of the snack box and began sniffing.

“Hmm,” the old woman said, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. “I heard voices, so I came to check on you. I’m glad you’re getting along better, but it’s past nine. Boy, you need to go to bed. You can talk tomorrow. Over grits.” She gave what Zoey would have called an evil smile if it hadn’t been on her Nana’s sweet face.

“Uh-” Ajax hesitated, eyes looking toward the spot Zoey had shoved his soda. Finally, he sighed and climbed to his feet. “Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow, Z.”

Their grandma opened the door wider, ushering the boy out, and then closed it behind them with a firm snick. Zoey waited until she heard their feet retreating down the hall before gently shoving her dog aside and retrieving the soda can. Making a face, she wiped the rim with her t-shirt and held it up, examining the label. “Mmmm, ice cucumber Popsi.” She took a swig, then wrinkled her nose. “Okay, maybe not that one.” Frowning, she pulled out her screen and opened the file where she kept a log of all the snacks and beverages she’d tried from the Asian market. Adding the Popsi to the ‘Meh’ list, she closed it and turned the screen off again.

Sighing, she looped an arm over Max’s shoulders, and the dog paused in his attempts to dig the box of snacks out from under the bed. “Max,” Zoey muttered, “it’s gonna be a long five days, buddy.” In the silent darkness of her room, she found her eyelids fluttering. It might only be nine o’clock, but it really had been a long day.

Zoey shoved the box out of reach of her disappointed dog, then stood up and took the two steps to her dresser. Time for pajamas and a good rest while snuggling Mr. Bun. In the morning, everything would look brighter.