Fallen Crest Alternative Version

There was a dish piled high with pancakes next to one with French toast. A bowl of sausage was at the other end of the table beside a bowl of bacon. In the middle were three different flavors of syrup, butter, whip cream, strawberries, blueberries, chocolate chips…my eyes couldn’t take it all in. My stomach rumbled in protest when I caught a whiff of a fresh batch of—I turned around and my mouth fell open—omelets.

Malinda walked past and placed a dish with omelets piled high. Hard boiled eggs were added to it, along with a separate bowl with scrambled eggs.

“Here, honey.”

I turned in time as Malinda shoved a cup in my hand. She filled it with coffee and then dumped creamer and sugar afterwards. A small spoon was plopped into it, and she blasted me with a smile. “Sit, honey. Sit.” She nudged me to the table.

Adam chuckled as I sat across from him, wide eyed. He ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it at first either. My mom doesn’t cook and she exists on egg whites, coffee, and energy drinks. She claims they’re healthy drinks, but its crap.” He gestured to Malinda, who was popping bread into a toaster. “She’s not at all like Mark’s mom.”

“It’s Malinda.” She pretended to shoot him a glare but turned back to the phone with a charming purr.

Mark elbowed him. “You gotta try some of these omelets. My mom makes them with feta cheese. Mmmm. Ilothemessomuch.”

I frowned at him.

Malinda piped in, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, honey.”

He lifted his fork in an apology.

She went back to her phone call.

“Who is she talking to?”

Mark shrugged.

“Samantha, drink your coffee. Your father told me it’s the only sustenance you get sometimes.”

I bit my lip as I felt a little guilty. I had inhaled the coffee Mousteff handed me. Hers couldn’t compare to his, but he was a chef. I drank hers anyway, and some of the rumbling went away.

“How was the rest of the night?” Adam’s eyes were intense as he studied me.

I looked away. “It was fine.”

Mark’s stopped stuffing his face. His fork went down to the table.

“So they weren’t mad about Cass?”

My cheeks flushed, and I fought the urge to twiddle my thumbs.

“Sam.” Mark was quiet. “What’d they say?”

I swallowed over a knot in my throat and looked up. “No parties with you guys.”

“With us?” Mark waved between him and Adam with his fork. “Or…”

“With anyone who goes to Academy.” It went without saying that I was excluded from that group.

“Are you serious?” Adam’s face fell.

Mark cursed and leaned back. The pancakes had lost their appeal. “Cass is going to be tortured at school. Public parties, man, everyone lives to go to those.”

I twiddled my thumbs now.

Adam asked, quietly, “You can’t talk to Mason?”

I shook my head. “I was attacked. He wasn’t there.”

“You were going to be verbally attacked by his friends before her.” Adam leaned forward.

My shoulder lifted and dropped. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You slapped Cass. Remember? At the Alumni festival.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s all girl catfight crap. Of course it’s the same,” Adam cried out as he pushed back his chair. “This blows.”

Mark threw him a crooked grin. “Guess you’re going to have to get laid by the Academy gene pool.”

“Shut up.”

Mark shrugged. His fork reached for some strawberries.

“You haven’t even asked about Becky—”

I frowned. “How is Becky?”

He stopped short. “She’s fine.”

I nodded. “Good.”

Then he bit out, “She was worried about you. We kept hearing about you, how you got hit, how you shouldn’t have, how Cassandra was going to hell. Blah, blah, blah. We heard it all.”

Mark grinned with a mouthful of fruit and nodded his head.

“Okay.” Malinda’s voice was bright and cheery. The phone was put away, and she dropped into a chair beside me. “What have I missed? What happened last night?”

Adam looked at me.

I looked at him.

We both fell silent.

Mark gestured between us with his fork. “Those two are mad at each other, but I don’t know why.” He swallowed his fruit with a gulp and speared an omelet with his fork. “After dinner last night, Sam shoved Cass into our bushes. She got mad. She came to the party we were at and slapped Sam. Then her boyfriend got mad and now all of us can’t go to Public parties.” He gave Malinda a mouthful grin. “And that sucks because those parties are awesome. They talked about Becky. I have no idea why.”

She turned to us. Her eyes were bright.

I sucked in my breath.

Mark mumbled around some French toast, “And I didn’t sleep with Amelia last night, mom. I wanted you to know that.”

She melted. “I know, honey. That means so much.”

I blinked in surprise and blurted out my first thought, “Did my dad sleep here last night?”

She froze and then melted again. She patted her chest with a hand. “Oh, Samantha. I would love it if David would spend the night. The good Lord knows that I’ve been trying, and it’s not in vain of His name. I love David. David should be here. I have made my vows in my heart.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">