Hours later, a soft rap pulled her from her slumber.
She blinked her eyes open, relieved that she truly was home. It wasn't a dream. A low, orange sunlight from the distant horizon bled in through her vinyl blinds.
The room filled with the familiar aroma of chicken and vegetables, something that Steve cooked quite often. She had to admit, Steve was a decent cook, and her stomach awakened with a grumble.
A tall dark silhouette leaned against her door frame, with one hand wrapped around the knob. It was Steve.
"Kat, hey. Do you want to come down to dinner?" Steve asked gently. As if he didn't want to push it.
Kat frowned still showing her resentment. Still, she was famished. But there he was acting like nothing happened and everything was fine.
"Fine," she answered with an even tone and tossed her comforter aside. Kat stomped toward the door shooting Steve a cold, leveled stare. He stepped back, hugging the wall to let her through. He must have realized the anger radiating off of her, because he didn't try to say anything else to her. Steve followed her silently downstairs and into the kitchen.
Kat pulled out her old seat. The metal chair scraped along the beige floral linoleum floor. She sat across from Scott. Sean sat in their mother's old chair. Steve sat at the head of the table, the place where their father had sat.
Why did things have to change so much. Life was great when their father was alive. They were a perfect all-american family. A role-model father, a doting mother, three athletic boys, one princess. When he died, it seemed their family did too. Why did he have to be taken from them.
"Feeling better?" Steve asked, as he handed Kat a steaming bowl of mixed vegetables.
"I'm fine," Kat snapped in a cutting tone. She wasn't even close to being done with him. She lifted the bowl from his hands. Avoiding Steve's chocolate brown eyes, as she piled food onto her plate and began shoveling forkfuls into her mouth. He wasn't going to make her feel soft about the situation.
As she reached for a bowl of potatoes, she felt out of place, like she was a stranger, even though this was her home and these were brothers. She hated feeling so uncomfortable in a place so familiar. It almost felt as though this home wasn't really hers anymore. She shook it off. It would pass, she would probably feel better tomorrow when she started high school with some familiar faces.
Kat listened to Scott babble on about the family that he had stayed with. She felt a sharp and poignant irritation flitting inside of her. Scott was carrying on about the other kids in his foster home, and describing all of the activities and outings that his foster parents had taken them on. He was acting like he'd just come back from a school trip.
Her jaw clenched, she dropped her fork on her plate with a clank.
"I'm going back to my room," she spat. Kat kicked out her chair and marched from the room, leaving her plate behind. No one tried to stop her and she was glad for it. She didn't want to look at any of them right now. How could they dare be so blasey about the who thing. And not even apologize to her!
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