Age:
High School
Reading Level: 3.2
Chapter One
Ella’s first clue that something is wrong is when she stumbles downstairs, still only half-awake, and she smells cinnamon.
Weird, she thinks to herself. Mom never makes the same thing for breakfast twice in a row.
Her younger brother Kyle is already setting the dining table, laying forks and knives on the napkins. And there’s her dad, seated at the head of the table, sipping his morning tea, and flipping through the morning newspaper.
“You know, Ethan,” her mother’s voice yells above the sound of the pan sizzling, “a little help in the morning would be nice. It’s not easy getting the kids’ breakfast and lunch done at the same time.”
“Yes, dear,” her father replies absently, turning the page.
He’s on the comics section. He chuckles and looks up at Ella. “You have to see today’s edition of Chicken Scratch, Ella. It’s hilarious.”
Ella walks over to peer over his shoulder. It’s the same panel as yesterday, and it still isn’t funny. She frowns. “Did the paper have a misprint or something?”
“Ella’s up,” Kyle says, walking into the kitchen.
Their mother laughs. “Good.”
“A misprint?” her father echoes. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I tried out a new recipe today. You’ll have to tell me how it tastes,” her mother says, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of French toast in each hand.
“Cinnamon French toast?” Ella guesses.
“How’d you know?” she asks, delighted.
Ella swallows.
They’d tried her new recipe for breakfast yesterday.
Chapter Two
“It smells like cinnamon,” she says, forcing a smile on her face. “And I’m sure it’s going to taste great.”
Kyle sets a pitcher of maple syrup on the table. “Not like Mom could make anything that doesn’t taste good, anyway.” He grins.
It’s not an exaggeration. Cooking may not be Grace Wang’s knack. Their father was the one who could cook like a celebrity chef.
But Mom has a way with spices and seasonings. It helps her to create her own amazing recipes.
Ella has tried to make her mom's dishes before. She follows each step to the letter. Somehow it never tastes as good.
“What would be even better is if I could get some help in the morning, Ethan,” she says, scowling slightly.
Dad sighs. “I’ll make dinner, Grace.”
“That’s not my point. You never…”
Ella knows where this is going. They’d started bickering yesterday over breakfast. She and Kyle had to sit and silently eat their cinnamon French toast without tasting it.
They were too worried by the quickly escalating argument to enjoy their food.
Chapter Three
Yesterday had been a Thursday. Thursday is always the worst day of the week. The day when Mom has those PTA meetings that she doesn’t really want to go to but can’t get out of.
She’s tried in the past, but the PTA is a little bit like the mafia. Once you’re in, you can’t get out.
And Dad’s exhausted from a week of looking through cases.
“It’s not that I don’t care…”
“But that’s what it is exactly.”
“Would you let me finish?”
Ella catches Kyle’s eye across the table. Kyle’s lips are pressed together in a thin line as he chews. His expression looks more like a grimace of pain than anything else.
It’s normal for couples to argue, Ella knows. But they’ve been arguing more frequently. Especially in the past few weeks. She wonders if this fight is really about breakfast, or if something else is going on.
She hopes it’s about breakfast.
