It was 9 a.m. The sun was out. The coffee was tragic. The pancakes were worse. And then— Shadie entered. Black biker jacket. High heeled black boots. Black-on-black attire like she was about to fight a demon or file taxes—either way, she meant business. Her cane tapped rhythmically on the floor like a mic drop every step. Cream gasped, hands to her mouth. “Mamaaa! You’re dressed like a superhero!” “I am a superhero,” Shadie said. “I just also happen to be breakfast-deprived and surrounded by chaos gremlins.” “HEY,” Fiona said from the stove. “I resent that!” Shadie raised an eyebrow. “You should resent those pancakes. They look like they lost a fistfight with the frying pan.” Cream: Wheezing. April, halfway through her first cup of coffee, leaned against the fridge and smirked. “S, seriously. Can you not roast her before I’m fully awake?” Shadie slid into her chair like a queen taking her throne. “Shade never sleeps, April. You of all people should know that.” April rolled her eyes. “Okay, Shade. But if I have to hear one more comment about ‘crispy pancakes’ I’m throwing this coffee at you.” “Bold of you to assume that brown sludge qualifies as coffee,” Shadie shot back. “It’s giving ‘swamp juice’ at a middle school science fair.” Fiona groaned and flipped another pancake, this one landing with an audible thunk. “Why are you like this, S?” Shadie grinned. “Because life gave me trauma and red eyeliner, and I made it everyone’s problem.” Midnight phased through the ceiling like a spectral ceiling fan, floated across the kitchen, sniffed Fiona’s pancakes, and vanished into a cupboard like she was trying to escape this plane of existence. Fiona stared at the spot Midnight disappeared. “Even the dog judges me.” “It's not judgment,” Shadie said, sipping coffee. “It’s survival instinct.” Cream dragged a step stool over and handed Shadie a pancake she made herself. “Mama, this one’s not burnt!” Shadie lit up like a sunrise. “See? This child gets it. Meanwhile, you two,” she said, pointing her fork between Fiona and April, “are fighting for the title of Most Likely to Be Banned from Kitchen Appliances.” April held up her mug. “I’m emotionally attached to this coffee. Don’t come for it.” “I wouldn’t dare,” Shadie said solemnly. “I think it might bite.” Silver walked in at that moment, took one look at the scene, and turned around. “Nope,” he said. “Not before I eat.” “Coward,” April called after him. “Smart,” Shadie corrected. Fiona plopped down next to her. “S, one of these days I’m gonna get you to compliment my cooking.” Shadie looked over her glasses. “One of these days I’ll walk without a cane again. Dreams are free.” Cream clapped her hands. “Mama vs. Auntie Fiona pancake battle!!” Shadie smirked. “She’s not ready.” Fiona leaned forward. “Oh, I’m ready. You’re not ready for the taste of defeat.” April sat down with her mug. “I’m ready for the taste of something that doesn’t taste like disappointment.” The entire room paused. Even Midnight poked her head out of a cabinet. Then the laughter hit. Hard.
