CHAPTER SIXTEEN
**Oliver West**
The kitchen was a complete mess, which pretty much summed up my entire life right now.
I stood at the stove wanting to make spaghetti for lunch, but Pumpkin was at the counter making sandwiches instead.
"Why can't we just have spaghetti?" I asked, watching her spread peanut butter on bread like she was painting a masterpiece.
"Because sandwiches are faster and I'm hungry now," she replied, not even looking up. "Plus, you always burn the pasta anyway."
"I do not burn pasta!"
"Remember last Tuesday? The smoke alarm went off three times when you somehow burned toast? Toast, Oliver!" She said in a tone so similar to Mom's that it spreads a shudder through me.
And she was adding way too much jelly to her sandwich, Mom would just blame me later for allowing her to waste it.
I gazed at her swallowing the lump in my throat.
