The World We Live In

"Evra!" Mama calls from downstairs. I look up from my computer and sigh, finishing the sentence before patting Blue, who is sitting right next to me. I always feel like Blue is the only one who ever appreciates my writing, even though he's a dog. To be honest, I don't really care.

My whole name is Ginevra Homestead, but I'm nicknamed Evra. Some people call me Gin, but I think that Gin sounds too much like an alcoholic beverage. I'm twelve years old, but I look a little younger, especially with my round face and big eyes. Plus, the baby fat hasn't entirely disappeared yet.

I get off my four-poster bed and Blue comes after me, right at my heels. He's still a pup, but he's definitely the fastest one I know. He's right at my heels, even as I rush down the stairs three by three. I smell something delicious in the air, something that's definitely a pastry.

I go into the kitchen, seeing Mama placing a tray of cookies on the cooling rack. It looks like Blue recognizes the smell too, because he jumps up and down, barking and his tail wagging. I grin as she hands me a ceramic plate with two cookies in it, the chocolate chips still melted. I walk to the table, secretly breaking off a little piece and blowing on it.

Blue opens his mouth, and I swiftly let him eat the bit of cookie before Mama turns around. He's quick to bound over to his food bowl so that she doesn't suspect anything. I grin, taking a bite of the warm heaven and saying, "Thanks, Mama." But it sounded more like, "Fanks, Myama."

Mama's dark red lips curve up into a soft smile, and she comes over to join me, her own cookie in hand. She sits next to me, asking, "So, Evra, what did you do in school?" I had already polished off my cookie by then and took a sip of water.

"Just the usual. I mean, we're learning about triangles in math and started a new unit in science," I replied casually.

Before she got a chance to reply, somebody came through the door.

Hunter Henry Homestead is my brother. His hair is brownish-gold, and his eyes are a brilliant blue, almost as blue as the sky. He definitely is more mature-looking than myself, even though his personality is far from his looks. Some say we look alike, and some say we don't. I personally think that we're very different. For one, my hair is plain blonde.

In his hand is a soccer ball, and on his feet are muddy cleats. Mama says immediately, "Hunter, shoes off, please." He looks down and smiles apologetically at her, slipping his cleats off and putting them outside. He then wordlessly goes to the couch and strips his wet socks and shin guards off.

"Hey, Ev," he greets, obviously tired from playing soccer. I grin and wave a little, pointing to the kitchen. "Cookies." Hunter's eyes light up and he runs into the kitchen. Blue bounds in after him for another bit of cookie.

Mama mutters, "My little soccer star," and hums as she clears the table. A strand of dark brown hair falls from her bun as she leans over to get my water glass. I'm not jealous, I tell myself. I am not jealous.

Before my own brain can deny it, I stand up and glance at Hunter and Blue once before going back to my room and flopping onto my bed. In one of my tabs, it said, New Message...

I clicked on it, seeing a group chat of a few people I knew and a few others I didn't know. My best friend, Julie is online, so I type, Hey, Julie!

She replies quickly. Yo, Ev. Whatcha doin'?

Oh, not much. Hunter just got home and my mom made cookies.

For some reason, she logged out after that, and after waiting for about ten minutes, I shrugged inwardly, resuming my writing.

Notes