Fighting the Fog

Bernard's loud barking pulled me out of a deep sleep. My eyes felt like they were stuck shut as his persistent barks echoed in my teal-painted room. With a groan, I reached for my phone on the white nightstand. The bright light from the screen hurt my tired eyes, showing me a shocking amount of missed calls and messages. Had school already finished? I was hit with a wave of shock. I had really slept through the whole morning.

The past few hours have been a confusing whirlwind of discomfort. A stubborn fever held on tight, refusing to let go, while a dull pain pulsed in my left thigh, probably a leftover from yesterday's tough volleyball practice. The fatigue that dragged me down made a joke of the full night of sleep I was supposed to have had. My twin, Stetson, wanted to skip school to take care of me, ready to give up his Physics notes and the test coming up. But there was no way I was going to let him do that. He had been focused on those formulas all week.

The fever was finally gone, leaving just a slight ache in my leg. I felt a nice sense of relief, much better than before. I tossed aside the coral blanket and swung my legs off the bed, my bare feet touching the warm honey oak floor. Bernard noticed I was up and trotted over, his fluffy fur brushing against my leg, his wagging tail showing how happy he was to see me.

I could hear voices faintly coming from the stairs. It was Stetson's recognizable voice along with his best friend's deeper one.

I got up and headed to the door, with Bernard following closely beside me, the gentle sound of his nails clicking on the wooden floor matching my pace.

I stopped at the top of the stairs, my fingers gliding over the smooth handrail. Down below, Bernard's tail wagged happily, making a soft thump against the steps as he went down. I took a deep breath to calm myself and started to walk down.

The great room looked like a total mess typical of teenage boys. Stetson and Chandler were lying on the floor, completely absorbed in their game, with FIFA 22 taking over their world. The air was filled with the smell of fake cheese and soda, mixed with the sound of chip bags crinkling and the occasional cheers or groans. The TV's flickering light illuminated their serious faces, showing how focused they were.

I plopped down on the couch, trying to look relaxed, but my racing heart gave me away. My cheeks burned when Chandler looked up, and I quickly turned my head a bit, pretending to smooth out some imaginary wrinkles on the cushion.

"So, you finally decided to wake up?" he teased, his voice light, but his eyes stayed on me a moment longer than needed. I felt my breath catch.

I forced a laugh, hoping it sounded more real than it felt. "Just about," I replied.

Stetson chuckled without taking his eyes off the screen. "She sleeps like a rock," he said, his fingers moving fast on the controller.

I playfully kicked his leg, and he let out a dramatic groan, but my eyes were still on Chandler. He had a small smirk on his face as he rolled his shoulders, a little move that didn’t go unnoticed.

Chandler paused, his fingers hovering over the buttons. "So, feeling any better?"

I nodded, realizing my throat was dry. "Yeah," I said hoarsely, "the fever's gone."

"That's great," he said, his blue eyes locking onto mine for just a moment too long, sending a flutter through my stomach.

I had to look away. I just couldn't keep staring.

Once more, their eyes were glued to the screen as the digital soccer game erupted with fast-paced action. Fingers flew over buttons in a frenzy, sharp breaths marked the near-misses, and quiet curses floated around like random thoughts. Stetson was unstoppable, completely focused, his fingers moving like lightning on the controller. Chandler, just as determined, leaned in closer, his strawberry blonde faux hawk bobbing with the intensity of his stare, his brows knitted in concentration, and his jaw set with determination. He was not going to give up easily.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, hardly able to breathe, I kept glancing between the screen and Chandler's profile as the last few seconds counted down. Bernard, noticing I was so still, leaned his warm, fluffy head against my knee, providing a comforting presence.

Then it happened.

Stetson's virtual striker took a powerful shot, sending the digital ball soaring through the air, a white blur against the bright green field. Chandler's goalkeeper on the screen dove in a desperate attempt, but it was no use.

"YES!" Stetson shouted, raising his arms in victory. "That's how you do it!" he exclaimed, a huge, triumphant smile on his face.

Chandler let out a loud groan, falling back onto the rug and dramatically dragging his hands down his face as if he was in deep despair. "I can't believe this," he said quietly. Turning his head, his bright blue eyes met mine, and a sly, almost embarrassed smile appeared on his lips. "Did you see that? Stetson shows no mercy at all."

"He really doesn't," I replied softly, unable to help a small smile creeping onto my face, even though I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach from his intense stare.

Out of nowhere, Bernard jumped off the couch, barking excitedly as he dashed into the kitchen. His fluffy tail wagged wildly, and his nose was twitching as he came to a stop by the white marble island, clearly drawn in by the delicious smell of pizza.

From my place on the couch in the living room, I saw Pops stroll into the mudroom, balancing a stack of pizza boxes in his arms - two large ones with a couple of smaller boxes on top. With a smooth motion, he set the boxes down on the shiny countertop of the island.

"Turn off the PS5, guys," he said with a friendly nod, his bright green eyes crinkling with a smile.

A loud groan came from the floor next to me, but Stetson and Chandler turned off the game, and the blue light from the PlayStation disappeared from the TV. Bernard added to the quiet with another eager bark.

"Sloane, can you get the plates and napkins?" Pops asked with a friendly tone.

I pushed myself off the couch and headed to the pantry. I grabbed a stack of paper plates and a roll of napkins, my hand pausing for a second over the familiar bottle of Ranch dressing before I picked it up.

Pops opened the pizza boxes, and a delicious, cheesy smell filled the room. Buffalo chicken - my favorite! And a deluxe one loaded with extra olives, just how Pops liked it. The smaller boxes had cheesy stuffed bread, its golden crust looking super tempting.

I settled onto a leather barstool at the island, the cool surface feeling nice against the warmth from the couch. I picked a slice of buffalo chicken, watching the melted cheese stretch as I lifted it onto my plate. I set the Ranch bottle next to it, making a silent promise.

Stetson and Chandler walked into the kitchen, the excitement from their game fading away. Chandler playfully nudged Stetson with his elbow, a teasing grin on his face. "You just got lucky earlier," he joked.

Stetson snorted as he grabbed a slice of the deluxe pizza and took a ridiculously big bite. Chewing slowly, he mumbled with his mouth full, "Luck? No way. It's all about skill."

I couldn't help but hide a small smile behind the cold rim of my soda can, the fizzy sweetness contrasting with the cheesy smell. Bernard curled up by my feet, his dark, almond-shaped eyes locked on the food with eager hope, his tail gently thumping against the charcoal gray cabinets.

Feeling full after a slice of buffalo chicken, a deluxe slice, and a cheesy breadstick, I leaned against the cool marble counter, watching Stetson and Chandler finish their food. Pops got up and started stacking the leftover pizza boxes to put them in the fridge.

Once Stetson finished his last slice, he jumped off his barstool and went into the great room. He came back a moment later with his backpack on one shoulder and tossed a familiar packet onto my lap. I let out a groan before I could stop myself and resisted the urge to push the papers away. I vaguely remembered him saying he’d pick up my missed assignments, but a small part of me had secretly hoped he’d forget.

Stetson just smirked, not bothered at all by my clear disappointment, and grabbed another golden breadstick. "You're welcome," he said with his mouth full.

Chandler laughed, twirling his empty soda can in his fingers. "I bet you missed out on all the excitement today," he joked, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes. "We had a surprise quiz in Physics. It was tough."

I rested my forehead on the cool counter with a soft thud, shutting my eyes tight. "Please don’t say that!" I groaned.

Stetson leaned against the island next to me, somehow managing to stuff a ridiculous amount of cheesy bread into his mouth. Munching on the cheesy treat, he said, "At least you didn’t have to go through it."

I shot him a weak glare before opening the packet. Algebra II, Physics, US Government - the ultimate trio of school stress - stared back at me. My finger traced the complex symbols of an Algebra problem, the strange equations swirling in front of my eyes.

Chandler leaned in, resting his arms on the counter, his eyes focused. "Need a study buddy?" he asked, sounding casual but with a hint of something more.

Pops, now cleaning the counter with a steady hand, glanced at my homework packet. "You should really get started on that," he said.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the assignments grow heavier. Looking at Chandler, a small smile appeared on my face. "I’d really like a study buddy," I confessed.

Chandler grabbed the homework packet from me and started flipping through the pages while standing. “Okay,” he said, sounding a bit excited, “let’s get started.”

Stetson stretched and let out a tired mumble as he walked slowly towards the stairs. “Good luck with that,” he said quietly before he was out of sight.

Pops cleaned his hands with a dish towel and gave us a small, comforting nod before going to his office. “Just shout if you need anything,” he called out as his voice faded down the hallway.

Chandler walked into the great room and flopped down on the soft rug next to the gray coffee table, already spreading out the messy worksheets. Bernard, lying like a fluffy white cloud, lazily wagged his tail as I stepped over him.

I picked up my backpack from the floor and sat down next to Chandler. I unzipped it and took out the huge Algebra II textbook, putting it on the table next to the growing stack of papers.

Chandler looked at the mess of schoolwork in front of him. "Which one do you want to start with?" he asked.

I let out a deep breath as I flipped through the thick textbook, finally stopping at the chapter that made me anxious. "Algebra II," I confessed, indicating a part of the page. "Quadratic functions seem like they're in a totally different language to me."

Chandler laughed, relaxing as he stretched his legs. He took a blank piece of paper and said with a grin, "Okay, let's tackle quadratic equations together."

An hour later, just when Chandler and I finally figured out the last tricky Algebra II problem, we heard the front door creak open, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. Moments later, Dad and Uncle Jake walked in from the foyer, bringing the smell of their jobs with them.

Even though Uncle Jake isn't my real uncle, he might as well be. He's been best friends with Dad and Pops since they were fourteen. Chandler, his son, and he are basically part of our family.

Dad looked at me with his bright blue eyes that had hints of gold, and his face showed a bit of worry. He reached over and softly moved a loose piece of hair from my forehead. "How are you doing, Bellissima?" he asked, then glanced around the room, as if silently asking something before he continued, "Where's your Pops?"

I raised my arms up high, blinking sleepily at him. "It's better," I confessed. I pointed loosely down the hallway. "He's in his office."

Dad nodded, his hand resting on my arm for a quick, reassuring moment. Then he looked down the hallway towards Pops' office, a gentle warmth filling his eyes, a familiar affection that always appeared when Pops was around. He gave my arm one last soft squeeze before walking that way, his footsteps quieting as he went.

Uncle Jake stayed by the sofa, hands in his jeans pockets, looking at Chandler. "I thought I’d drop by to see if you needed a ride home."

Chandler was about to say no when I let out a loud yawn, stretching my jaw as I leaned my elbow on the coffee table.

Uncle Jake grinned, a knowing sparkle in his blue eyes. "I guess that settles it," he laughed softly.

Chandler shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him as he stood up, quickly picking up the scattered papers. "Yeah," he agreed.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling completely worn out from the day and all the thinking I had to do. Bernard came over and leaned his warm head against my knee, which felt really nice.

Chandler threw his backpack over his shoulder and looked at me for a second. "You should get some sleep," he said gently.

Uncle Jake wrapped me in a soft hug, giving me a warm squeeze before planting a light kiss on my forehead. "See you later, baby girl," he said.

I sat there watching them leave, and when the front door clicked shut, the house fell into a peaceful silence. The smell of pizza still hung in the air, mixed with the faint scents of Dad and Uncle Jake's cologne. All I craved at that moment was the cozy hug of my coral comforter.