Free Future Perfect by Jen Larsen

she lifts the handle of the pan and examines the pancake splatter that is currently bubbling. “This could be acceptable,” she says. She sets the pan down and crosses her arms.
    â€œIt’ll burn,” my father says.
    My grandmother doesn’t answer. She arches her eyebrow at him in the way that I can too and he slinks away to peer into the fridge. Soto hauls herself up and pads over because my father with his head in the fridge is often an unexpected bounty of his impatience.
    Mateo bounces up from his stool and heads for the foyer. The dogs all perk up and fling themselves away from the fridge and out of the room, barking. There are voices, and I think I recognize all of them. When Hector is at the kitchen door, still talking to Mateo about whatever, I am unsurprised. He looks around and finds me and his whole face lights up as he throws his arms out.
    â€œHappy birthday!” he says. He’s dragging me off my stool and he is squishing me. “Happy birthday, gorgeous girl!” He gives me a big smacking kiss on the side of my face, halfway between my mouth and my cheek and I can’t help smiling. He drops meto shake hands with my dad. I stumble back and end up tipping my stool.
    I catch it and settle it back into place while he’s trading hellos and various physical greetings with all the people in my family. Fist bumps and cheek kisses and handshakes, and I sit myself back on my shaky stool and eat another piece of bacon and then another while Hector and my brothers talk about the various benefits of breakfast as the first meal of the day.
    Soto has vacated, because she is nervous around Hector, and Annabelle Lee and Toby have come trampling through the kitchen and out the back patio door, off in the backyard to be small dumb dogs. I think it’s for the best, because Hector has a swooping-and-overwhelming problem. He wants to gather up all the puppies into his arms at once and have quiet moments full of peace and unconditional love. I think sometimes that Hector does not actually understand how love works. There is a tiny piece of my heart that worries someday he might figure it out. And I’m not sure where that will leave me.
    My grandmother slides two perfect pancakes onto my plate and smiles at me and my heart hurts.
    â€œThey are very beautiful,” I say, because they are. They look like fashion-model pancakes and I suddenly feel hungry. I pull the syrup jar over and pour it in perfect, swooping gold loops across my perfect pancakes until Mateo smacks my hand and messes up the design.
    â€œDon’t hog it, hog,” he says.
    â€œDon’t be an ass, ass,” I say.
    I drop the syrup on the table. He snatches it up and starts drowning his stack of pancakes, which are just as perfect as mine.
    â€œAre you ready to go?” Hector is bouncing next to my stool. He looks on the outside the way I feel inside, full of itching powder. My mouth is full and I point at it. “Chew! Chew! Chew!” he says.
    â€œAll aboard!” my father says predictably.
    I swallow. “Have a pancake,” I say, pointing at the plate with my fork.
    â€œI don’t want a pancake,” he says. “I want to go get your party stuff.”
    â€œAshley will eat all the pancakes for you,” Mateo says.
    â€œShe can eat them later,” Hector says. He looks at me. “What if they’re all sold out?”
    â€œOf what?” I say with my mouth full again.
    He shrugs. “I don’t know. Napkins?”
    â€œUnlikely,” I say. I stab another bit of pancake and he watches me anxiously, like the dogs do sometimes. “Okay, fine,” I say. “I’ll go put pants on.”
    I pick up my plate and shuffle out of the room with it. I hear my grandmother say, “For god’s sake, Hector, sit down.”
    I can feel myself dawdling. I run a brush through my hair and put it in a ponytail and take it back down and change T-shirts three