Chapter 1, Part 4

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"Emily? Amanda? Shawn?" Denise called from the doorway, holding reusable bags bursting with groceries in each arm.
"I thought you were just going to get stuff for pancakes!" Emily cried, rushing up to her mother and grabbing a grocery bag.
"Why'd you get carrots?" I asked, pulling them from the bag I had taken.
"We were out?" Denise laughed. "Bring those into the kitchen here," she called. "and we'll get started on those pancakes." Emily and I followed her eagerly, the taste of maple syrup already on our tongues.
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"Well, I should go." I said, getting up from Emily's bed, where we had been working on our social studies essays together. "It's already 11:30." I explained to the puppy-faced Emily on the bed.
"Email me later to tell me what your parents pulled out of their hats to show you their love." Emily chuckled, packing up my laptop for me.
"Will do, Captain." I grabbed my clothes and pajamas from on the floor and stuffed them into my backpack. "Oh, when's your dad coming back from that business trip, anyway?"
"Today, I think. When my mom talked to him last night he said his flight left at eight this morning." Just then, we heard the front door opening, followed by Roswald barking for all he was worth. We rushed downstairs to see Emily's dad put down his suitcases, only to be smothered my Denise's kisses.
"Hey, can you wait till I go back upstairs?" cried Emily, squeezing between her parents to give Andrew Whittaker a hug.
"Hi, Mr. Whittaker." I said timidly from the stairway. "How was your trip?"
"Amanda, hi!" he laughed, walking over to give me a bear hug. "Looks like I've got the whole welcoming party, huh?"
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"My trip was okay," Mr. Whittaker smiled as he scratched Roswald's head. "But, boy, is it great to be home. Has anyone seen Shawn?"
"Last I checked, he took half the pancakes up to his room to eat while he played World of Warcraft." Emily replied, rolling her eyes. I looked at my r watch.
"Sorry, but I should really go. It was nice to see you, Mr. Whittaker." I called, running up the stairs.
About ten minutes later, after arguing with Denise about how I really didn't need the leftover pancakes, I was almost home.
"Mom? Dad?" I called, putting my backpack down and my keys on the shelf by the door.
"Amanda!" my mother cried, running in from the kitchen, holding a small package. Parents could be so predictable. "Ron! Ronald, she's home! Oh, Amanda!" Here came the smothering hugs, then Dad coming in with another package. Why did my life always seem like a movie I had seen many times before, where everything happened exactly the same, and there was never any variety?
I shrugged off my parents, taking my presents (a novel and a sketchbook, what a surprise) up to my room.
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