“I hate talkin’ in front of class...Extra credit is stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Mom says, using the hem of her t-shirt to wipe frosting from her hands. “I like your project and I’m sure the class wants to learn more.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’m not doing it. Nobody ever does it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“God, Mom you don’t get it--”

“Mason Clark,” Mom says in a warning tone.

“You just don’t know what it’s like,” I mumble under my breath.

Mom never understood anything about school, but she especially didn’t understand  middle school. She’d wanted to walk into school with me on the first day of 6th grade. She said she wanted to see the classroom. Like there was just one.

“Noooo!,” Spencer screeches, walking into the kitchen and spotting the funfetti cupcakes Mom had spent the last hour baking “No, Mama you did the frosting wrong!”  

“I used the recipe you showed me,” Mom says. “And Peyton is my taste tester and she thinks their delicious, don’t you, Peyton ?”

Mom bends down and smiles at  Peyton, my baby sister, who was making a mess of  frosting and cake on the kitchen floor. Peyton was only a year old and had only gotten as far as unwrapping the cupcakes and pushing the insides all over the floor before stuffing the frosting in her mouth. Mom didn’t care that Peyton was making a huge mess on the floor because the contractors were taking the floors out when they came to work on the kitchen this weekend.

“I wanted them to be swirly on top,” Spencer whines picking up one of Mom's cupcakes like it was poison. “Why did you do them all like this ? It has to be swirly like at the bakery.”

“Well, if you wanted them like the bakery I could have just bought them,” Mom says licking frosting off her finger.

“No, they have to be homemade--”

“Well, you can’t have it homemade and all pretty on the top-,”

“Yeah-huh. Aunt Amber did it for Laci’s birthday--”

“Well… these are  just going to be different,” Mom says putting the knife in the sink. “Look, I’m already done and we’ll but sprinkles on them--”

“Noooo!” Spencer cries. “It’s not what I wanted! You messed it up! ”

Dad always said Spencer and Mom were in competition to be the biggest drama queen in the house. Usually Spencer won but I can tell Mom’s  about to steal her crown back.

“Fine,” Mom says. She picks up one tray of frosted cupcakes and throws them in the trash, she tosses another dozen down the garbage disposal. “No more cupcakes for your class for your birthday, Spence”

Spencer goes into a full on scream and then starts crying, Mom just stares at her meltdown. Peyton laughs at both of them from her spot on the floor.  

“Stop crying, that's not how 8-year-olds act.” Mom says and pushes Spencer out of the kitchen. “Go sit in the living room and calm down and I’ll think about asking Aunt Amber how to frost the cupcakes like you want.”

I laugh to myself.

 Of course Spencer wins.

“What’s so funny ?,” Mom asks turning to me and I pretend to go back to my homework.

Mom mutters to herself as she picks up Peyton from the floor and cleans her frosting covered hand in the sink.

We hear baby crying from the living room and Mom says a curse word under her breath, which makes me laugh again but I hold it down. Mom storms out of the kitchen and into the living room yelling at Spencer. Peyton follows her on unsteady chubby baby legs, probably upset that she doesn’t have Mom’s attention anymore

“Spencer ! How many times do I have to tell you ? Leave the baby alone!”  I hear Mom yell.

“ I didn’t do anything ! I didn’t touch her ! ” Spencer yells back.

“Yes, you did!” I hear Mom say. “I want her to be sleeping when her Daddy comes to pick her up.”

Mom comes back in the kitchen, swinging the newborn car seat off her arm  as she cleans up the cupcake mess like there isn’t a two-week-old  crying baby on her arm. The baby is even smaller than when Peyton was born last year, and when she's crying as hard as she is now she gets all squishy and red like a little angry tomato.

“Dada!” Peyton shouts from the living room. I can hear her banging on the new windows in the living room.

“Get away from the window, Peyton,” Mom calls. “Daddy comes home next week.”

“Daddy!,”

It was Peyton’s only word and meant everything from ‘Dad’s here’ to ‘I’m hungry’. Peyton ignores Mom and just bangs against the window harder.

“Spencer don’t just sit there,  get your sister away from the window !” Mom shouts 

“Dada !”

I hear Peyton cry when Spencer tries to move her. She really wanted to see whatever was outside the window.

“Mason, go  and see if that’s Cody outside and let him in,” Mom tells me.

“Why ?”

“Because I said so.”

“I’m doing homework--,” 

“No you’re not.”

“I have to do everything,” I say getting up from the kitchen table.

I walk into the living room and pull both Peyton and Spencer away from the window before closing the curtains.  

I take a quick glance out the window before shutting the curtains and I don’t see Dad or Mr. Cody walking to the house.

“It’s just Mr. Dorian,” I call to Mom.

“Dorian ?,” Mom says.

Mom runs into the bathroom and when she comes back out a second later her hair is in a bun. She zips  up a hoodie over her frosting covered shirt and opens the front door.

“Hi Dorian--,” she starts and then her eyes shift to the other uniformed Coast Guardsmen standing next to Mr. Dorian.

“Juliana, may we come inside ?,” Mr. Dorian asks.

“No. No,” Mom’s head keeps moving between Mr. Dorian and the other Coast Guardsman with him. “The house is a mess, we’re renovating and building a second floor—well, you must know I…what’s going on, Dorian ?”

“Juliana, can we go inside-”

“No,” Mom says. "It's okay, I--what--Did--Oh, God. Oh, God. No. Dorain, no--"

Mr. Dorian puts a hand on Mom's shoulder as the guardsmen next to him starts talking.

“Mrs. Clark, I regret to inform you that your husband, Lieutenant Rhett Clark has been...”

Mom’s  knees start to shake and she makes this weird sound but the other guardsmen just keeps talking.  Spencer runs over to hold Mom’s hand as she falls on the ground and I quickly  take the newborn’s car seat off her arm before it gets dropped too.

Mr. Dorian puts an arm around Mom, helps her stand again and walks her back into the house, closing the door behind him.

----

A/N

Me: Are you confused ? Okay, well,  welcome to the prologue of one of the first novellas that I've code named Pink Frosting because seriously, as I type this it still doesn't have a name. Although names don't matter because I'm sure I'll just be calling this UL4

You: Is this whole novella from Mason's perspective ?

Me: To the FAQ ! (This is a link)