Kyrii Day Cake
Life is hard. Very hard, especially when you're the only
girl in a family with five boys. Yes, it's a tough, tough life.
But today's an important day, and petty things
such as annoying brothers must therefore be forgotten, for the moment. Or at
least, I will attempt to forget them. And if you don't know, let me tell you
... trying to forget them is hard work enough.
Right, so did I mention that life is tough?
If you don't believe me, then you certainly must
have not had to deal with five brothers. You never get heard, you're always
very violently shoved aside, the house is always so loud, that if we lived in
Terror Mountain, the Snowager would be awake all the time. To add, possibly
one of the worst parts is you never get the last piece of Mama's best tigersquash
Oh yeah, life is tough.
As I said, today is an important day. It's Kyrii
Day, the only day which would lead me to drag myself out of bed at five in the
Actually, I've never woken up at five in the
morning on Kyrii Day before, but this year Mama decided I was good enough to
bake our traditional Luxurious Kyrii Cake. Five o'clock is the most perfect
time for baking, because my brothers are still sleeping like rocks.
Personally, I think Mama only handed me this
role because she got sick of waking up so early.
But I won't complain.
'Cause I'm a good girl. Honestly.
So here I am, wearing Mama's apron. I'm in ready
stance, holding a very threatening looking spoon and negg mixer.
Before me lie my ingredients, lined up in a row:
flour, sugar, baking powder, neggs, chocolate, butter, tigersquash, whipped
cream, icing, strawberry sauce, cherries. I pull out the mixing bowl, set it
on the table, and wait.
After a long time, I've decided that yes, it
is possible for me to bake this cake. I'll make it the best Luxurious Kyrii
Cake our family has ever had on Kyrii Day. Mama will be so proud.
If I fail my mission, then at least I get to
laugh at my brothers when they get sick.
I turn round to the kitchen doorway to find Theo,
my youngest brother. He looks very adorable, squeezing Jaws, our slorg, who
is currently looking very limp. Theo would be an okay kid, if he didn't worship
my oldest brother, Kraig.
"What're you doing?"
"Cooking. Go back to bed."
"Can I help?" he asks, very adorably.
I pause, thinking of a way to refuse without
him starting to bawl. I can't think of any, so I settle with, "All right."
Theo giggled, jumps up, and drops an ill-looking
Jaws with a loud, squelching sound. I pretend not to notice the fact that Jaws
"Okay Theo, just watch first."
Theo nods obediently.
Let the baking begin.
Measuring out the ingredients as best as I can,
I pour them into the mixing bowl accurately and start stirring with my spoon.
I try and get out all the lumps. I melt the chocolate and tell Theo to continue
mixing the cake.
"Esra? Isn't Mama supposed to do this?"
I look up at the call of my name to see Kraig.
Mama, Pops, and my brothers and I are all brown Kyriis, but Kraig thinks it's
so cool to dye his hair blue.
"This year I get to do it," I announce proudly.
"But you'll ruin it," Kraig complains. Theo runs
up to him and stands with his hands on his hips, imitating Kraig.
"But you'll ruin it!" Theo echos.
I roll my eyes.
"Then don't eat it!" I say, almost confusing
the sugar with salt.
"It was stupid of Mama to rely on you entirely
for the cake," Kraig grumbles.
"Happy Kyrii Day to you too," I reply dully.
"Happy Kyrii Day!" Theo yelps.
"Why are you up at five thirty anyhow?" I demand
"I always get up early on Kyrii Day. To sneak
some chocolate. I don't think I will this year though, thanks very much."
"I'm helping," Theo says boldly.
Kraig looks down at him. "You don't want to help
Esra here. It's a waste of time."
Theo blinks. "Yeah, waste of time," he repeats.
They leave the kitchen.
The next half-hour goes by without any interruptions.
I finish mixing my ingredients. It was smooth sailing mostly, though I did drop
a negg onto the floor. Jaws, who is fortunately still alive, ate it.
The main cake part is now safely in the oven.
Now I'm trying to sculpt a Kyrii out of cake batter.
"Knock, knock," a voice says cheerfully.
"Hey Pablo. You're up early."
"Theo came and woke me up," Pablo replies, running
a hand through his hair. "What's that supposed to be?" He was pointing to my
lumpy pile of batter.
He wrinkled his nose and punched me on the shoulder.
"It doesn't look like a Kyrii!"
"Sure it does," I say coolly. "If you ask me,
it looks a lot like you."
Pablo grunts. "Well, no one asked you," he said.
"So, did you mess up anything else?"
Very thankful that Jaws had eaten my fallen negg,
I reply, "Nope. I'm doing brilliantly. This will be the best cake we've ever
"You really think you can make such a good cake?"
"Just watch me."
"All right," he says mischievously.
As I continue trying to mould the batter into
a Kyrii shape, Pablo stares at me. I move to the other side of the kitchen.
He follows, staring. I manage to build a decent looking pair of feet on my cake
Kyrii. He still watches.
It's getting very, very, very, very, very, very,
And he doesn't say a word either. I want to shout
at him, wring his neck ... but I can't, because then he's won. And he can't
win, because I'm older than him and little brothers don't outsmart their older
sisters. It's in the sibling rule book, go check.
I hate Pablo.
"PABLO! GET YOUR LAUNDRY!"
I love Mama.
I realise that it's now past seven and most of
the family is awake. Once Pablo's left, right on cue, my other two brothers
jump into the kitchen from the opposite doorways, holding water balloons.
"NO!" I shout angrily, shoving a thrashing Louie
Louie glares indignantly at me as he wrestles
out of my grasp. He's only a year younger than me. "Move aside, Esra. Me and
Boog are at war."
Boog? My older brother Cole is a little -- a
lot -- weird. He's always trying out nicknames. Yesterday he was Rocket. The
day before he was Dash. Today he's ... Boog.
I meant that sarcastically.
"Do war somewhere else! I'm trying to bake here!"
"It doesn't smell like Mama's," Louie says. "You
Cole grins and breaks into a chorus of 'You Messed
Up' with Louie. Maybe they've forgotten war, at least.
"Fine, I messed up. Now go!"
Cole chucks a water balloon at Louie, which explodes
over the floor. I let out a deeply annoyed cry. If I leave to get the mop, then
they'll destroy the entire kicthen. If I don't --
Whoops. "OW." The view from the floor isn't very
nice. It's very painful. "Louie, Cole, you made me slip!" I shout.
"It's Boog, Esra!" Cole says. He throws another
water balloon. I assume it was meant to head for Louie, but it was off by a
mile. It hit the oven. I jump up from the floor and scoop up my Kyrii cake batter
sculpture. "Look, do you two want a cake today or not?"
"Who cares? Yours will stink," Louie says, sticking
his tongue out.
I'm pretty sure steam puffed out of my ears.
"It won't! IT WILL BE THE BEST CAKE EVER! Now
out! OUT!" I screech, taking Louie's water balloons from him.
Cole does a strange victory cry. "I win! You
have no balloons left!"
"It's not fair, Boog!" Louie declares angrily.
"It's all Esra's fault!" The two boys look at each other, before twin smiles
spread over their wet faces.
"ATTACK HER! GET HER!"
"Ow, no!" I yelp, jumping up on a stool. "MAMA!
"You shouldn't have interfered," Cole says in
a deep voice.
"Now you must pay," Louie continues.
"We shall have our revenge!" they say loudly.
It's very obvious that they have practiced this
speech multiple times.
"LOUIE! BOOG!" Mama calls. "Don't disturb Esra!"
On Kyrii Day, you never anger your parents. Then
you don't get sweets. Saved by Mama again, the two boy Kyriis dart out of the
kitchen, resuming their war again.
Peace at last.
Somewhere on the second floor of the neohome,
loud, horrible scratchy music starts.
Well, it was almost peace.
Finally, I finish moulding my cake Kyrii and
put it into the oven, taking the main cake part out. I set it onto the counter,
and start spreading strawberry sauce, icing and whipped cream onto the cake,
in thick layers. I didn't chance a taste of my cake; there was no time to make
a new one anyways. Sighing, I thought maybe enough whipped cream, strawberry
sauce, and icing would mask the taste of the actual cake, if it was horrid ...
"Boo!" a voice whispers in her ear.
Startled, I jump up.
"Ha ha," Pablo says. "Gotcha."
"Quit it, quit bothering me!"
"I'm just trying to keep you company," he says
in mock innocence.
"Yeah, right," I mutter. Out of the corner of
my eye, I see Pablo sneak a bunch of whipped cream.
Whacking him with my spoon, I scold him.
"Huh, maybe the cake won't be half bad. You sure
act like Mama," Pablo says.
I decide to take that as a compliment on my culinary
Just then, a basketball appears from absolutely
no where, gliding gracefully through the air. I whiz around and send an evil
glare towards the direction said basketball had come from. A blue-haired Kraig
stood, little Theo grabbing his leg.
I whiz back round to face my beautiful cake,
which looks about half whipped cream-icing-strawberry sauce at the moment. I
notice that the basketball ... is headed straight for my dessert.
I let out a strangled, "Nooooo ..." I vaguely
hear Pablo cackle and bounce away.
I hate Pablo.
Trying to shield the cake, my head is struck
with a zing of pain as the basketball hits my head, rolls down my back -- messing
up my hair in the process -- and rolls back to Theo and Kraig.
Theo picks it up and goes away.
I hate Theo ... well, no. I can't bring myself
to think that, because Theo is just a little kid. He's just very badly influenced.
I hate Kraig.
And while I'm at it, I hate Louie and Cole. Or
Boog, if he really wants to be called that.
The pain in my head finally ebbs away and the
timer goes off. I bring out my cake Kyrii, cover the hair with strawberry icing.
It honestly doesn't look half bad. In fact, it
looks very much edible.
I take out three candles from my favourite air
faerie mug and delicately put them on the cake. Now that I think of it, my cake
does look beautiful. I must say, I'm actually proud.
"Hey everyone! CAKE IS READY!"
I hear footsteps thundering from round the house.
Mama comes into the kitchen, beaming. Kyrii Day this year might not be so horrible
The basketball's in the cake.