When Pops and Pizza Save the Day

Ugh, Bernard’s wet nose nudged my cheek, pulling me out of a dream that felt more real than this crummy reality. My head throbbed like a bass at a concert gone wrong, and my throat felt like sandpaper. Sweat glued my hair to my forehead, even though chills wracked my body.

“Bernard,” I croaked, my voice a pathetic rasp. Nausea threatened to erupt, sending me scrambling to shut my eyes and clamp a hand over my mouth. The light filtering through the cracked door felt like a spotlight on my misery.

Then came the creak of the door, followed by a shaft of light that stabbed at my already throbbing head. Pops’ voice, usually dripping with playful sarcasm, was laced with pure worry. “Sloane Liliana,” he started, dragging out my full middle name the way he only did when I was in serious trouble. This wasn’t good.

He settled on the bed beside me, engulfing me in the warmth of his presence. That familiar scent of sandalwood and spices that usually comforted me was cut with a new edge – the scent of panic clinging to him like cheap cologne. His hand brushed my cheek, sending a jolt through me despite my fever haze. I cracked open an eye, meeting his worried gaze. “What’s wrong, sunshine?” he whispered, his voice thick with concern.

Suddenly, the dam broke. Tears streamed down my face as I buried it in his chest, letting out a choked sob. His arms wrapped around me, a desperate attempt to hold back the storm brewing inside. “I don’t feel good, Pops,” I hiccupped, clinging to his shirt like a lifeline.

“It’s okay, sunshine,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. “Maybe you just have a bug. You’ll be fine. But seriously,” he added after a beat, the worry still clinging to his voice, “what’s going on with you? You never get sick.”

Stetson burst into the room before I could respond. Wasn’t he supposed to be downstairs drinking those strange protein shakes he’s so into? But there he was, walking in with his backpack and keys, saying, “Hey, Sleeping Beauty -” before stopping short at the sight of Pops, his eyebrows raised in that irritatingly smug manner. My twin. Three minutes older than me, with his dirty blonde hair in a low fade, dazzling blue eyes, and that maddeningly perfect grin.

"Is Sloane doing okay?" Stetson inquired, his usual sarcasm momentarily replaced by a flicker of genuine concern.

“She’s running a fever, buddy. Won’t be going to school today,” Pops responded, a hint of worry in his voice despite his casual tone.

“Aw, that sucks. Want me to swing by the office and inform Ms. Troyer? Maybe grab her assignments?” Stetson offered, already regaining some of his confidence.

Pops nodded. “That’d be a huge help, Stet.”

A familiar grin appeared on Stetson’s face. “Consider the ice queen charmed,” he joked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Stetson threw a “Get well soon, sis” over his shoulder before the door clicked shut, leaving me alone with Pops. Exhaustion washed over me, a heavy wave threatening to pull me under. Pops’ heartbeat became my anchor, the steady thump-thump creating a comforting rhythm. My eyelids fluttered shut, and I drifted into a fevered sleep.

When I woke up again, the room was quiet, a stark difference from the comforting presence of Pops next to me. The afternoon sun cast a faint line across the closed curtains. I sat up, still feeling a bit sick. With a soft sigh, I opened the door and walked into the hallway, a glimmer of hope leading the way.

Suddenly, a happy bark and the sound of excited paws filled the house. Bernard, our fluffy white Samoyed, ran towards me, his tail wagging with joy. I caught him in mid-air with a surprised yelp, his paws hitting my chest and a shower of eager licks covering my face.

A smile spread across my face as I petted his thick fur. "Hey, buddy," I whispered, scratching behind his ears. "Missed you too." Bernard, a surprise gift from Pops on my sixteenth birthday, was always there with unconditional love.

He followed me as I went down the stairs, the delicious smell of coffee tickling my nose. Pops was in the living room, a gentle smile on his face as he watched a nature documentary, the soft sounds of birdsong barely audible. Our spacious living room felt like a safe place - the slate sofa and matching loveseats surrounded a glass-topped wooden table, facing the fireplace, while the loveseats were angled towards the flat-screen TV above the mantel. The warm hardwood floors, walls painted in an old parchment color, and the vibrant green leaves of a potted travelers palm tree created a cozy atmosphere.

Pops looked up, his smile growing wider as he motioned for me to come closer. I snuggled against his side, resting my head on his shoulder. With a gentle touch to my forehead, Pops said, "Looks like that fever has finally broken, sunshine. Feeling better?"

Relief flooded through me. "So much better," I breathed out. Pops ran his fingers through my hair with a comforting touch, giving me a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Are you hungry?" he inquired.

My stomach let out a small growl. "A bit," I confessed, not feeling particularly excited about the idea of eating.

Pops nodded, reaching for the remote and changing the channel to Friends. The sound blasted as Joey began a dramatic story, and I found myself relaxing as I chuckled at the chaos on the screen. Bernard jumped onto the couch, snuggling up next to me, his warmth a reassuring presence.

Midway through the episode, the garage door swung open and Stetson stormed into the living room. Chandler followed him, holding a bottle of ginger ale. The zesty scent filled the room.

“Almost forgot this!” Stetson tossed my packet of makeup assignments at me with a playful smirk. I caught it, a small groan escaping my lips. Makeup work was the last thing I needed. “Now, off to the glamorous world of burgers and shakes. Gotta run, Sloane!” His voice rang out as he sprinted up the stairs.

Chandler strolled over, a playful glint in his eyes. “Can’t stay long, got work too. But,” he raised the bottle of ginger ale, “thought this might help.”

“How’s the superbug treating you?” His voice held genuine concern.

I took a careful breath, the ginger ale swirling with a spicy scent. “I’m okay,” I managed, my voice a hoarse whisper. I could feel the cool condensation against my fingers, the sensation strangely grounding. “Just a little under the weather.”

Chandler’s eyes softened, crinkling at the corners the way they did when he was worried. “Get some rest,” he urged, his voice low and soothing. It sent a flutter through my stomach I tried to ignore.

I offered him a small smile. “I will. Thanks, Chandler.”

Heavy footsteps thundered down the staircase, startling me. Stetson burst into the room, his cheeks flushed and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Ready to roll?” he asked, his eyes darting from me to Chandler and back.

Chandler nodded, throwing me one last lingering look before turning to follow Stetson. As the door slammed behind them with a finality that made the silence buzz in my ears, Pops stretched. A cavernous yawn split his face as the Friends credits rolled. “Alright, pizza time. What’ll it be, sunshine?”

I automatically mentioned buffalo chicken. Pops called Domino's and ordered one buffalo chicken, one deluxe, and two stuffed cheesy breads. After confirming the total and delivery time, he hung up.

"Another episode?" I suggested, nodding towards the TV. Pops agreed, grabbing the remote and pressing play as he settled back on the couch. He hummed along to the theme song, and we were halfway through the episode when the doorbell rang.

Bernard dashed from the couch and ran into the kitchen, barking loudly. "Sounds like someone else is here," Pops chuckled as he got up to answer the door. Dad's voice could be heard from the entryway, followed by Dad and Uncle Jake entering the living room.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" Dad asked, giving me a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"Better," I replied with a smile. Dad turned to Pops, who was balancing two giant pizza boxes and a full paper bag. My stomach growled in anticipation. Dad took over with a hug and a kiss, making Pops blush a little - it always made me laugh. The cardboard groaned under the weight of our meal as Dad placed it on the coffee table.

"That smells amazing," I said, already salivating.

Dad chuckled and tousled my hair. "Hold on, I need to change first, then we can eat." He went upstairs as Uncle Jake and Pops disappeared into the kitchen. Uncle Jake returned with three beers, Pops following with paper plates and napkins. Uncle Jake handed one to Pops and placed the others on the coffee table. He picked me up and sat on the couch, hugging me warmly.

"Missed you, munchkin," he said.

Uncle Jake wasn't a real uncle, but he and Dad had been best friends since middle school. Living nearby meant he and his son, Chandler, were always around.

Dad and Uncle Jake were deep in conversation about Uncle Jake's day off - he had spent it fishing and reeked of sweat and lake water. Dad came back downstairs, now dressed in a faded navy t-shirt, khaki shorts, and blindingly white socks. I swear he must have owned twenty pairs in the exact same shade. He turned off the TV and grabbed a beer. I grabbed a slice of buffalo chicken and cheesy bread, dipping them in ranch dressing before taking a huge bite.

Pops pulled Dad close, putting an arm around his shoulders. They always acted like teenagers in love, which I found amusing. "How was your day?" Pops asked.

Dad sighed, the lines on his face becoming more pronounced. He talked about his case - a young man accused of robbery and assault. Even when he wasn't in his suit, the weight of his job followed him home. The kid claimed he was innocent, but there was a previous record, a witness who identified him, and a DNA match. The verdict was five years behind bars. It always made me uneasy when Dad talked about his work.

As the last greasy slice disappeared, Pops and Uncle Jake swooped in to clear the plates and napkins. The end of pizza night always seemed sudden.

"Sloane," Dad's voice broke through my post-pizza daze, "time to study. Go upstairs."

Ugh, homework. The word that could ruin any evening. I eyed the pile of worksheets on the table, feeling a wave of dread wash over me as I saw all the equations and maps. Maybe I could try to sweet talk my way out of it. I let out a weak complaint, hoping Dad would take pity on me.

But he didn't budge. "Go upstairs. Now."

Uncle Jake laughed, his deep chuckle filling the room. "Looks like it's my time to go," he said, getting up from the couch and giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Thanks for the pizza, guys." He winked at me before leaving through the front door, leaving me to face my fate.

I dragged myself up the stairs, grumbling under my breath. As I entered my room, the door clicked shut behind me.

My room was like a peaceful retreat with its calming colors. The teal walls, the coral comforter on my big bed, and the soft light from my bedside lamps all contributed to the relaxing atmosphere. I settled down on the bed, taking in the crisp scent of my sheets combined with the sweet vanilla aroma of my candles and a faint trace of perfume from my dressing table. A navy beanbag chair and a fluffy cream colored rug made the room feel even cozier. Volleyball memorabilia and photos of loved ones adorned the walls.

With a heavy sigh, I turned my attention to the daunting homework. I might as well get it over with. Groaning, I started working on Pre-Calculus.

Just as I began to tackle the first problem, my phone buzzed. Noelle was calling. I smiled and answered the video call.

Noelle, my childhood friend and neighbor, popped up on the screen. Her hair was a golden blonde cascade around her face, complementing her sparkling sapphire blue eyes and perfectly sculpted cheekbones.

"You could've just come over," I joked.

A blush colored her cheeks. "Yeah, but Stetson mentioned you were sick, so I didn't want to bother you." She tilted her head. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," I confessed, "Just drowning in homework."

Noelle winced in sympathy. "Glad I'm done with that for the night." Despite her bubbly personality and 'dumb blonde' reputation, she was actually brilliant - her 4.0 GPA and honor society membership proved it.

For the next hour, she updated me on all the school gossip I had missed. Her tales about the new guy and the classroom drama had me laughing despite my homework struggles.

Just as we were engrossed, my bedroom door creaked open. Dad peeked in. "It's late, kiddo. Finish up soon and get your homework done."

Annoyance washed over me, but I plastered on a smile. "Sure thing, Dad, almost done," I chirped, hoping he didn't catch the groan underneath.

Reluctantly, I bid farewell to Noelle, her cheerful chatter fading as I ended the call. With a sigh, I returned to the homework grind. Pre-Calculus was a maze of numbers and equations that left my head spinning.

Time dragged on. Every glance at the clock revealed only a few minutes passing. Finally, after what felt like forever, I jotted down the answer to the last Pre-Calculus problem. A small victory, but Physics still loomed ahead.

As I tackled the intricacies of motion and energy, my eyelids drooped. The numbers blurred, and my focus waned. A glance at the clock jolted me - 11 pm already! With renewed determination, I pushed through the fatigue and tackled the remaining Geography questions.