Page 22 of The Future Play

“Mila never took an oath to you. She was still on my team.”

Penny and Cal are only seventeen months apart in age, and they are almost always at each other’s throats. Mila is usually neutral, unless Penny gets her hyped up on girl power. Then poor Cal doesn’t stand a chance.

“You’re a brat,” Cal yells.

“Well, you’re stinky!” Penny shouts.

As their older sibling, it’s probably my job to intervene here, but I hate disciplining them. I like that they see me as their fun older brother and not a third parent. So instead, I let out a long groan, then slowly sit up, acting like a zombie… monster… thing.

Cal’s eyes get huge. “Get in the ship! He’s a zombie alien now!”

Sure, that’s totally what I was going for.

“No,” Penny says, coming to stand next to Cal. “He’ll just follow us. We have to… Take. Him. Down.”

She glances at Cal and Mila, then all three of them jump on me at once.

I put in some fake effort and thrash my arms, trying to escape. At least they’re workingtogether now.

Mom comes to the doorway and leans against it. “What’s going on in here?”

I throw my hand out and let out a pathetic, “Help me.”

“Hm,” Mom says, watching my three younger siblings beat me up. Finally, she smiles. “Lunchtime!”

All three leap off me and run for the door.

“Finally,” I sigh, then slowly get up, stretching my sore muscles as I walk toward the door.

“Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t enjoying that,” Mom says, leading the way down the hall from the playroom to the kitchen.

My siblings are already sitting on stools at the kitchen island as Dad puts plates with chicken nuggets, ketchup, and fruit in front of them.

I sit down next to Cal, then Dad puts a plate of chicken nuggets in front of me.

My gaze drops to it. “Really? I’m seventeen, not seven.”

Penny makes a derisive noise at that.

“That’s why you get the special spicy sauce,” Mom says, putting some sriracha mayo in front of me.

Dad looks at me with fake awe. “They grow up so fast.”

“Just remember, the older I get, the older you get, old man.”

“Old man? I’m still young and spry. Hip.”

“Not making a case for yourself, honey,” Mom says, sliding a salad in front of him.

Dad looks down at it and frowns. “I’ll trade you for some nuggets.”

I hold my hand out and wiggle it back and forth. “Not exactly an equal trade.”

“Oh, sure. Now you want the nuggets.”

I grab his bowl and my plate and walk around to the other side of the counter. After a few minutes, I sit back down and put a bowl in front of him and a matching one at my spot. Both are filled with salad then topped with chicken nuggetsand ranch dressing.

“Fair compromise,” Dad says.

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