Curls and Chubs

“Aww...”

Kenzo’s cries made me giggle and enjoy how his white skin blemishes with a bright deep pink before I release his left ear with my fingers. He rubs the skin I pinch and pout, then takes the spatula once more and stirs the Ruffles’ chips on the stainless pot over our kitchen toy stove, pretending those chips are chicken’s part.

I scold. “I told you I wanted a flaming spicy flavor.”

“I took that flavor yesterday. I didn’t know that my Mumsy changed it,” he explains.

“Which one, Mumsy A or Mumsy B?” I tease.

He stopped mixing the cheese cornflakes, turned his head, and expanded the opening of his eyelids to scare me. However, I was not threatened by his angry features. I cross my arms and roll my eyes before facing my back on him and walking towards the small table and chair.

We are inside his playhouse, located in the garden of their mansion. I pulled the chair out and laid my backpack on the table. In our play, I need to act as if I just came from my office work while he cooks our lunch.

My eyes flew to the small cabinet where he displayed our photos. In one square frame are my mom Violet, and me. In the other frame, same as the first photo case, there is Kenzo with his two mumsies, Skylar and Zoey.

’Why two mumsies? Because they are gays.’ My evil angel speaks.

The circle photo frames at the center make my lips curl into a smile. It was taken two weeks ago on the beach. The sun is cascading its rays, burning any exposed skin, but the seven-year-old boy in the picture was well-covered, wearing his long-sleeved top swimming suit with a pair of goggles over his eyes. He has milky skin and protecting it is the priority of his mother.

While the seven-year-old girl, who is younger than seven months, places her arm over his shoulder and pushes him against her frame. She is wearing only a white sleeveless shirt, paired with jean shorts, burning her light brown skin further because her mom is not as protective as his. Her smile exposed all her teeth, loving how she crushed the boy, who was smiling timidly with his hands tangled together.

It is Kenzo and Harper.

Us.

I and the boy beside me.

He is now taking off the apron over his head. He took the potholder hanging on the wall, used it to carry the container on the stove like it was hot on the fire, even if it was not. My head shakes at the way he acts, as if everything is real. His pinkish heart-shaped thin lips arc in a smile while stepping towards me and placing the pot on the table.

“How many times have I told you you need to hang your bag at the back of the door?”

Taking my backpack off the table, he moves to the playhouse door and hangs it there. I titter at the way he scolds me, yet he is the one who does his order. Even during our playtime, he’s still the organized, clean, and soft-spoken boy in the house. While I am the bully, harsh, and naggin’ girl, as usual. As I look at the pot, I grab the chips inside and shove them into my mouth.

“Hey, we will use a plate and spoon!”

Without listening, I pop the tip of my tongue to annoy him more before taking another chip from the pot, munching it, and licking my fingertips one by one. The cheese flavor is attached to them. He opens the tiny drawer quickly, takes the plates and spoon inside, rashly placing them on the table, before he takes the pot and puts some chips on my plate, then next on him.

“This is your favorite, Curls. That’s why you buy this cheese rather than my chilly one,” I complain once more, using the pet name I made for him while chewing the chips.

When he shook his head to say ‘no,’ his long, curly hair that reached his shoulders waved.It’s the reason I gave him that nickname. But I never use it in front of his parents, or else they will pull my pixie-shaved undercut hair.

He inherited his chestnut wavy strands from Skylar because he was the one who donated his sperm to a surrogate. Zoey agrees and treats Kenzo as his own flesh, even though he doesn’t have a single dot of blood from him.

“I swear I took your favorite chips, Chubs,” he explains, “but I didn’t notice that Mumsy Zoey replaced them.”

Chubs. He is referring to my apple cheeks, and I allowed him to call me such a funny nickname in exchange for his expensive portable PlayStation.

“Hmm... Your mumsy Zoey? As usual, you don’t like spicy food. They knew it was for me. That’s why they replaced it."

Zoey is Violet’s stepbrother or stepsister, whatever they called him. But they are not bloodily related because my mom and Zoey were already adults before their parents met. Both died with no single cent in their pockets, leaving Kenzo’s mom and my mother nothing.

However, Zoey is intelligent, while my mom is brainless. Zoey is thrifty, while Violet is extravagant. He is a hard worker, whereas my mother is a worthless happy-go-lucky.As a result, we became generous dependents on Kenzo’s mumsy A. We are living in their mansion while my mother is searching for a qualified father who can give us a million dollars instantly.

“It’s too obvious they don’t like me,” I continued, taking the empty glass and passing it to him.

“That’s not true!” He contradicts.

“I heard when they said I was a bad influence on you, jerk,” I smirk and roll my eyes.

His eyes doubled and he looked at the window of the playhouse to check if someone heard what I said before turning back to me.

“Shh... Don’t say bad words. We should not use terms that only adult people say.”

He instructed me, as usual, as my good-boy buddy.

I said, “I will be an adult later, so I need to learn it soon,” I insisted and forwarded my glass again.

He bursts into heavy air before he takes it and pours water on the brittle container. Kenzo is too gentle, more delicate than me, feminine in action to be exact. My eyes stuck on him as I remembered Violet’s statement in our room last night that my buddy would grow up just like his two mothers.

Gay.

Skylar and Zoey seem to love that, too. They are always taking him to their party organization and opening Kenzo’s eyes to their world. It’s obvious they want him to be like them.

I take half a glass of cold water and drink it while staring at him.I’m not against the gender difference between his parents. I guess I’m even more open-minded and knowledgeable than Kenzo, because when it comes to craziness, my mom teaches me everything.

We grow together, and for seven years, Kenzo punches no one. Not like me, who’s going home with a slight scratch for bullying my classmates and sent to the principal’s office for stealing my seatmate’s eraser.

He studies in a private school, and I do in a public one. Yet, I can’t believe he is too careful about everything. What is new? He has always followed his mother’s A and B.

We differ from many things, the opposite, as they call it. Hot and cold, soft and hard, yet we are in tandem all the time, even though I always win.

Just like now, we are on vacation and playing all the time is our habit.

“Curls…”

“Hmm?” he mumbles, while spooning his chips.

“Do you like boys?” I ask.

“Harperrr!”

The echoing voice of my mom made us both stand in panic, especially me when I saw her running like a rabbit towards us. She stops at our playhouse’s door and grabs her front shirt as she catches her breath. I blink my eyes several times and prepare my ears for her to yell at me for asking Kenzo things that are not suitable for our age, yet I’m still wondering how she heard me.

My brows furrow as the edge of her lips lift, she smiles, and shines her eyes like she won the lottery.

“Pack your things. We are leaving today,” she says, full of excitement.

“What?” I and Kenzo sing in a chorus.

It covered our voices with surprise and… alarm.

“Your father is outside. He will take us now.”

I should be happy, for at last, my gangster father suddenly realizes he wants his daughter and girlfriend. I saw him once, then afterwards he left us out of nowhere.

The grab of Kenzo on my arm pulls my mouth to speak, “but…”

“No, but, Harper,” her eyes nag when she speaks in an angry, lofty tone, “move your ass now! We will leave before the sun falls!”

Turning to Kenzo, I saw how water molded on his brown, dazzling eyes, but my tears fell first. I have been nagging and harassing him most of the time, but for seven years. This is the first time they will separate us, and I am not prepared...