CHAPTER FIVE

Laikyn Skier became my closest friend even if it only took us a day or two to know each other. Half of this friendship should be credited to Mamma for trusting a total stranger to look out for her daughter while she's away. I knew well that it wasn't the best and smartest decision she could ever make-but it wasn't that bad. Honestly, if not because of her yeasty choice, I wouldn't gain my first friend at all. And maybe, just maybe, my fate would look like a hapless heroine losing her final battle and ending up facing her untimely demise.

The sound of Mamma's electric beater is not a good thing to hear first, especially in the morning. Hearing it reminds me of the dental ambiance every time I go to the dentist. It's supposedly so early for me to wake up and she's aware of it because most of the time in situations like this, she wouldn't mind turning off the egg beater just to get rid of disturbing me from sleeping. But today's different.

Keeping my eyes as open as I can is the last thing I did before I finally decided to roll the blanket down on my feet and get off of the bed. I am still sleepy. These eyes could tell. If I have to choose between sleeping with a great noise, and waking up with only four hours of sleep while begging for more, I'd rather go to the second choice and forget the other way around. Even if the means of it is to look like a zombie having expressionless eyes with double layers of dark skins below them.

I walk my way towards the door but suddenly stop before the mirror to take a quick look at myself. Just like what I thought, I really look like a zombie. A beautiful zombie. But there's no such thing as a zombie, or a beautiful zombie, or an ugly zombie, that ever existed, right? I smile. Of course, the other version of me in the mirror smiles back.

Panting and gulping exchange their turns as I continue ambling towards the door. I carefully turn the brass doorknob, and the smell of red wine surprises me as I step my feet out of the room. I forgot my hairbrush so I have to go back inside to get it. When I finally have it in my hand, I twist the door open for the second time and make sure I don't forget anything anymore. When all is verified, I leave my room and follow the smell of the wine in the air.

After taking a few steps, I find out that it's not just the smell of the red wine that lingers around. There's something else. Chitchats. Mumbling of words. Small talks. Apparently two voices; one is from Mamma, and the other one is from. . .

"Oh, there she is! She's awake now!"

. . .and the other one is from Laikyn.

No one would probably believe me if I say these two women are having their breakfast with wines paired with steak this early in the morning. It's not really that impossible, but it's not just recommended. And even if it is, it's still not appropriate. It's about to turn seven, and they're about to get drunk.

Laikyn gestures her hand in a circular movement, allowing the red wine to create a mini whirlpool inside her half-filled delicate crystal Burgundy wine glass. She tosses it in the air as she opens her sultry red lips. "Bonjour, Callie my friend!"

"It's seven o'clock in the morning and both of you are unbelievable," I say, pressing my brows against each other. I walk into the kitchen, passing Laikyn who's sitting at the tea table while busy doing the weirdest thing of the day-dipping a slice of steak into the red wine and putting frappé over it.

"Did we wake you up, darling?" Mamma's head whips in my direction. She's in her favorite tricolored checkered apron, the only apron out of dozens she has in her cabinet that she uses every time she's working on her cake. She slides herself a bit to the left to take a shot of her drink and later on slides back to finish her cake, specifically decorating it with the icing she had beaten a while ago.

I open the fridge. "No, you didn't. But your electric egg beater did." I can't help myself not to frown because I just find its sound so, so irritating.

I take a box of fresh milk out and pour some of it into my glass. I leave the fridge open to see if there's available ready-to-eat food, and I see a yogurt. I snatch it out, place it on the tray along with the glass of milk, and head to the tea table to join Laikyn in eating her breakfast.

I couldn't stop my eyes from flitting up and down while looking at her. She's like an African doll; beautiful, glamorous, perfect. But one thing I hate about her is her fashion. They're not bad. They're awkward. They're annoying. Not that 'it doesn't suit you,' or 'you dress like an idiot' kind of annoying. But, 'you're too bright,' and 'you wear too many colors are kind of annoying. I'm really really annoyed and I had never been this annoyed in my life. She could wear usual clothes like what those normal girls are wearing. Unlike what she's wearing now– another set of Christmas trees. I mean, another unique style of fashion. Unique enough that it doesn't blend with anyone, anywhere, or anytime, anymore. Her hair, her kinky, curly, and more on a zig-zag pattern kind of hair are now braided into short yet neat and more organized plaits using colorful rubber bands. That's it. That's better compared to what her hair looked like during our first meetings. But her style, it's stressing me out.

"Laikyn?" I call her as I sit on the stool next to her.

"Yes?" She responds, showing off a smile blooming along with the flowers of spring.

"You're leopard-inspired blouse is bothering me. It doesn't match your pink ballerina tutu dress. I don't even understand why you have to wear that thing," I say, a little bit shy knowing that we're only friends for a couple of days and what I'm saying could ruin everything. Especially our friendship.

"I know, Callie. That's why I wear them," she answers confidently. The smile remains tinted on her face as I throw her more questions.

"But why do you have to? They don't. . ." I pause, took a sigh first, and think of how being rude I am while talking to my one and only friend. they don't suit you."

She gives me a reproving look. "Because I don't give a damn on how I look, and on what people think about me. I'm just being myself." She drinks the remaining wine in her glass and bottoms up. "And by that, I can determine which people like to be with me and which people don't."

I nod. She nods. I get her point. She's right. I hold my peace for a moment and take myself to a halt. I lift the glass of milk and let my lips kiss its mouth. A few seconds after drinking, I put the glass back on the tea table, at the exact same time as Laikyn decides to speak more.

"Besides, that's the golden rule of making friendship. Don't make many but fake. Make some but precious. To put it simply, quality over quantity."

Never in the first two days of our friendship have I ever thought that she was going to be a hard-core drinker of wines. It's just crazy to think of them that way, especially if your own eyes witness how innocent-looking she is. But as wine lovers always say, the longer the wine has been stored, the tastier it gets. The same goes for her. The longer you know her, the more you know her. I know there's a lot more of Laikyn for me to unravel, and I know that most of it will surely surprise me. Time will develop our friendship. It will for sure.

"You know what, just by simply looking at you, I can now picture how the baby would look like if Sarcasm and Dramatic happens to have one." I smile. That's probably the longest and the widest smile I have ever done since I set foot in France.

"Sooner, you're going to be just like me." She shakes her head, laughing humbly as she fills her glass with some more red wine.

"Maybe. But I swear to God I'm not gonna dress like the way you do. No matter what happens." I say, laughing mirthfully.

"If you wake up one day, naked, and only have a mascot of Barney and a set of my style on your closet as your choices, you'd probably choose mine without thinking at all. You will never like to look dumber in that fat, pink, dinosaur mascot. Unless you prefer to strip." She winks at me. "Again."