Turn 12

--- Maya ---

“Alright, let’s do this!” She cried having a manic episode.

“Uh, My?” Izzy prompted. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, let’s get running!” She declared, jumping onto her bed and striking a pose.

“Do uh, do I need to get mom?” Her sister asked, trying to subtly inch her way out of the room.

“No!” She zipped across the room and wrapped an arm around Izzy’s shoulders. “I’ve taken a day off from running with you, so it’s time to run some more!”

“Um, sis, it takes more than one day to heal after straining yourself.” Izzy pointed out.

She scoffed dragging Izzy out of their room. “Pfft, for scrubs maybe.”

“No, for people in general.” Izzy argued, already knowing it was futile to resist when Maya was having an ‘episode’ as it were.

“Eh, no pain, no gain.” She shrugged.

“Again, not how that works.” Izzy stated plainly, as Maya dragged them both outside.

“You going to run, or do I have to kick your butt into gear, hermanita?” She asked hopping foot to foot.

Izzy sighed. “Maya-” Izzy stumbled before her eyes jumped to Maya. “Did you just…?”

“Kick your butt into gear? Yes.” She admitted, hopping off the front steps of their house. “You going to do something about it?”

Izzy growled for a moment, before lunging at her.

Of course, having expected this, she merely took off in the usual direction of all of their runs. As it would happen however, Izzy had apparently been holding back in her previous runs with Maya, because it didn’t even take the pre-teen an entire lap around the block before she’d caught up to Maya sending the two of them tumbling across someone’s front yard.

Since they were already on the ground she decided that if Izzy didn’t want to do their usual running, maybe she’d be up for wrestling instead.

(You know having said that, I feel like we should probably intervene.)

(But we’re winning!)

(Only because Izzy hasn’t gotten proper footing on the ground.)

(But we’re winning right now and that’s what counts!)

This comment of course jinxed Maya, giving Izzy the perfect opportunity to break out of her sister’s grip and send a blow into her stomach.

“Oww!” Maya groaned clutching her stomach.

“You finally calm down?” Izzy asked, watching her warily.

“Yeah…” She nodded, still rubbing her stomach as she sat on the grass. “Yeah, I think I burned out whatever energy I had going for me.”

“Good, because I don’t think I could take much more manic Maya.” Izzy admitted, as she took a seat on the grass as well.

She grimaced. “Yeah, sorry about that… I haven’t really had an episode in a while,” -(not since I started inventing anyway,)- “and I wasn’t expecting to get like that.”

“Yeah, well if that’s what one day without moving does to you, I don’t want to know what whole week will do.” Izzy told her with wry chuckle.

“So that means?”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “If you want to keep training with me you can.” Suddenly her eyes hardened. “But if I think for one second you’re going to hurt yourself pushing so hard, I won’t hesitate to handcuff you to your bed.”

She couldn’t help but snort at that. “And where are you going to get a pair of handcuffs.”

“I found a pair in mom and dad’s room.” Izzy admitted, not realizing the implications.

Unfortunately, Maya -pervert that she is- completely understood, and probably threw a few more conclusions on top of it.

“Eww.” She cringed. “I don’t want to think about that stuff!”

(Neither do I but I’m stuck in here!)

“Think about what?” Izzy asked innocently.

“I um,” Maya shook her head. “I’ll get Vi to explain it when you’re older…”

Izzy frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not explaining it.” She explained.

“But why?” Izzy questioned sitting up.

“Because!”

“Because why though?!”

“Because I’m not going to be the one to give you that talk!”

---

“Ah, there you are Maya.” A voice called as she made her way downstairs after cleaning up from wrestling around with Izzy.

“Uh, did you need something mamá?” She asked, her accent passively taking on a Spanish flare as she turned to a naturally tanned woman with long wavy brown hair, that for some reason was far more tamed than either of her older two daughters.

“Yes, I was wondering if you could help me set up for Seamus play group this afternoon.” Her mother told her, moving through the kitchen as she prepared three different dishes.

“Uh, what exactly do you need me to do?” She glanced at Seamus who was drawing at the kitchen table. “Seamus doesn’t seem to need any watching.”

“No, but I have to get everything together for when the other parents get here.” Her mother pointed out.

“And, again, what do you need me to do?” She repeated, only the slightest bit of passive aggression slipping into her voice as she spoke with her mother. Something her mother didn’t notice given how busy she was. (Like usual…)

“Right, I need you to add more water those beans, dice those tomatoes for this salsa, then get out a can of sauce so I can start rolling enchiladas.” Her mother began listing.

She couldn’t help but grimace. “Ugh, I hate cooking though…”

“Well, usually I’d get Vivi to help me, but she’s at college right now.” Her mother explained before giving her look. “Besides you really should learn how to cook. You don’t want your husband starving when you get married.”

(Or wife if I go that way.) She added silently.

“So, come on you’ve had a Quinceanera so it’s more than time to start learning to cook.”

She grimaced. “Isn’t that a bit old fashioned?”

Her mother rolled her eyed. “If you manage to get a house husband that does all of the cooking and cleaning, I will be the first one to congratulate you, mija. That said, you’re still learning to cook so that you don’t live on just ramen and energy drinks.”

“Hey!” She cried indignantly. “I’d live on pizza too!”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“It counts as a vegetable!” She argued.

Her mother gave her a look. “Says who?”

“The government.” She’d looked it up when she found about it.

“So, a bunch of idiotas?”

She opened her mouth, before closing it.

(Damn, we can’t argue that one.)

“Fine…” She eventually groaned, as she got to work helping her mother move through the kitchen. “But can you at least tell me why we have to do all of the cooking whenever we do this.”

“Because I refuse to let esas perras think they can out do me.” Her mother told her bluntly, killing any possibility of this being an act of compassion or politeness. “I want them to remember their husbands only volunteer to watch their kids because they prefer my cooking to the mierda they put on the table. That’s right, I’ll fucking show them…”

(Huh, so that’s where I get it from.)

---

While the house was beginning to run low on Electronics, she lucked out in finding a small stash of broken appliances, that while not very advanced could be used for a few of her more simplistic projects.

(We’re going to have to find a new source of electronics soon…) Her inner reason warned.

“I know… but I’m not really sure where we can start searching.” She admitted, taking the last of the appliances to her room.

(The junkyard perhaps?)

“No, but anyone with half a brain would know to watch for M.A.D.s raiding the place.” She reminded herself. “And given how we already had one kidnapping attempt I don’t really feel up to another one…”

(Then we’ll just have to fight everyone off!)

(I don’t believe we can do that just yet…)

(Tch, we’ll get there eventually.)