Page 91 of Beautiful Collide

Mom:Hudson, are you alive?

Anna:Are you being held against your will?

Anna:Do you guys think we’ll get a ransom note?

32

Hudson

A few days later,and with two more wins under my belt, I wake to a familiar smell.

It smells like my childhood home.

Which is weird since I’m not there. I’m in Redville in my bed.

But still, that doesn’t stop the fragrant smell of sweet, buttery, delicious food from hitting me in the gut.

Wait, maybe I’m still asleep.

I keep my eyes shut.

Refusing to allow myself to wake from this phenomenal dream.

I wonder if the biscuits will taste as good as they do in real life. Despite not wanting to, my eyes pop open. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

Wait.

That smell is real.

The sounds coming from my kitchen are most likely real too.

The clinking of pots and slamming of drawers don’t usually end up in a dream. A nightmare, maybe.

Early morning sunlight streams in through the drapes, and I know it’s time to get up and see what’s going on.

Once dressed, I head downstairs.

The full smell hits me before I even make it down the stairs. I take another step and hear laughter—my mom’s laughter.

I jog down the last few steps. Standing in my kitchen are my parents and younger sister, Anna. My mom is flipping pancakes, Dad fiddles with the coffee maker like he’s never made himself coffee, probably never has, and Anna—who’s a troublemaker like me—is eating whipped cream straight out of the can.

“My darling birthday boy,” my mom squeals when she sees me.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“I thought that part was obvious. We’re making you a birthday breakfast.”

“It looks like only you are.” I gesture to my sister and dad. “Anna looks like she’s about to get high on whippets, and Dad, well, Dad already looks high.”

“Um. Okay. I guess happy birthday,” Anna says, barely acknowledging me.

My mom places the spatula down and comes up and hugs me.

“Wow, you’re all really here.”

“We are,” my dad says.

“Why?”

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