He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Seventeen: Gracie | Family Meeting

I wake up thinking that I'm late for class. Somebody (ahem, Weston) set all the clocks in my room two hours ahead. But I don't know that, so naturally I rush to the bathroom to get ready. Somebody (ahem, Weston) saran wrapped the toilet which forces me to take a second shower to wipe the piss running down my ankles (TMI, I know, sorry). When I grab my towel, my hands end up stained with purple. And to top it all off, when I reach for the door handle, I'm met with slimy and sticky Vaseline. I've fallen victim to a series of Disney Channel level pranks. 

I wrap my fuzzy pink robe around my body and scream at the top of my lungs. "EVERYBODY GET UP. FAMILY MEETING. LIVING ROOM. NOW." I'm pounding on everybody's doors. All three guys slowly shuffle out into the hall whilst rubbing their eyes.

"What is going on now?" Eli groans, still half asleep.

RJ is the opposite, already wide awake in his jogging attire. "Woah. You look awful, Gracie" he says while doing walking lunges.

And then Weston. He emerges from his room, takes one look at me, from the top of my damp head to my purple hands, and grins. "Morning, sleeping beauty." I force myself to take deep breaths so I don't kill him right here and now. "We all need to have a little chat" I spit out.

Ten minutes later after I've changed into a t-shirt and some light blue overalls on top, the guys are seated around the living room like a group of kids about to get scolded. Well, everyone except RJ is seated. RJ has one hand on the wall while kicking his left leg aggressively forwards and back. Eli keeps nodding off every few seconds and Weston hasn't kept his eyes off me once. I'm pacing back and forth. Words are spewing out of me at a hundred miles per hour. "This living situation clearly isn't working" I say. I throw my purple hands out for visual evidence.

"Are you moving out?" Weston asks with a hopeful wisp.

"No" I snap. "I'm not going anywhere. But we need to set up some boundaries. This war between you and me has gone too far, Weston."

He crosses his arms and leans back into the sofa. "I'm listening." I catch sight of the multiple holes in his t-shirt, courtesy of my bunny, Olive. (Let's just say I 'accidentally' let Olive out again while Weston was doing his laundry. It only takes seconds for her sharp teeth to get destructive when she's not under supervision.)

I drag out an easel with a blank canvas. I feel like a teacher in front of a classroom as I uncap the marker and say: "We're going to take turns going around the room and saying one thing we could improve on together as a household. I'll go first." I turn around and write COMMUNICATION. "Who wants to go next?"

It's silent. RJ sticks up a hand reluctantly. "Whatever, I'll go." After he writes down BATHROOM SCHEDULE, he points to his hair. "It takes at least twenty minutes to wash and dry this masterpiece, okay? We need to set up some kind of bathroom system."

He hands me back the marker. "Oh-kay" I say. "Next person. Eli, you go."

Eli looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here. LESS FAMILY MEETINGS. "Can I go back to sleep now?" he grumbles.

"No. Sit back down."

Eli throws the marker to Weston who catches it one-handed. Weston gently bumps my shoulder on his way to the easel. CHORE CHART.

"Alright. Well, this list is a good start-"

"Ah, ah" Weston interrupts me. "I'm not done." UNWELCOME GUESTS. NOISE REDUCTION. ANIMALS.

I scoff at his never-ending list. "Are you done?"

"Patience, princess." DISHES IN SINK. LAUNDRY ON FLOOR. DIRTY FLOORS.

"This seems specifically targeted" I say.

"Smart girl" he says, still scribbling.

I shove him out of the way. "Go sit back down. It's someone elses' turn" I demand. "Last call to add something to the list. Going once? Going twice?"