The Kids Alliance, Chapter 8, By Makaila Odoom

 Chapter 8

Pajamas, Pancakes, And A Whole Lotta Weird

My alarm clock goes off at 5:30 in the morning. This might bother some people, but I’m perfectly used to waking up early.
What I’m not used to is waking up to the horrifying mashup of a trumpet, an air horn, and a beeping alarm clock like the room is under attack. I nearly leap out of my socks and almost crack my head on the top bunk.

“QUOI DANS LE MONDE!?” I shout, my heart doing backflips.

Elowen jumps down from her bed like a superhero in slippers. “That’s the wake-up call. It means it’s time for breakfast,” she says casually, like being jump-scared into consciousness is just a regular Monday.

Willow, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes, squints at me. “What does quoi dans le monde mean?”

“It means what in the world, in French,” I mumble.

“Oooh! I just learned something new,” she chirps like this is a happy morning cartoon and not a chaos concert.

Elowen’s already halfway to the door. “Let’s go. Pajamas first, food second, chaos third,” she says over her shoulder with a flip of her perfectly messy braid. I scramble after her.

We hike up several flights of stairs and reach a huge dining room that looks like a crossover episode between Willy Wonka’s factory and a cartoon sleepover. Round tables, tiny chairs, and a massive conveyor belt of steaming, sparkly breakfast food. The scent alone could wake the dead.
Pancakes. Waffles. Smoothies. Pastries. And—is that pizza?

“There’s a lot of sweet stuff,” I say, eyeing a chocolate croissant shaped like a crescent moon. “Do you guys eat this every morning? Is it even healthy?”

Willow grabs a donut with glittering glaze and grins. “Don’t worry. The food is sweet, but it’s made with special magical ingredients that make it healthy. It’s literally enchanted.”

“Wow! You guys just keep surprising me.”

And then I notice something that makes me snort into my hand: The are horses at the next table. In PJs. Full-on striped pajamas with a flap in the back. They’re sipping from juice boxes. Five birds sits next to them all in nightcaps. I cannot.

“Does no one get dressed before breakfast?” I whisper.

Elowen shrugs. “Nope. Pajama culture reigns supreme. You gotta eat cozy to feel cozy.”

“Man,” I sigh. “I wish I could eat breakfast in my pajamas at home.”

“You can’t?” Zac’s voice says, and I turn to see him walking up, his curls still a little fluffy from sleep. He’s got a sleepy half-smile on his face, and I get that fluttery feeling I really don’t have time to deal with before carbs.

“Nope,” I say. “I sleep in my day clothes to save time. If I didn’t, I’d be lazy and never change. It’s basically my only flaw.”

Zac chuckles, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re way too hard on yourself.”

I blink. “You don’t even know me.”

He shrugs. “I know enough. You’re cool. You woke up to that noise and didn’t cry. Respect.”

I grin, just a little. “Maybe I just haven’t cried yet.”

“I can arrange that,” Elowen says sweetly from behind us. “I know exactly where the cafeteria stores the ghost peppers.”

We all laugh and head toward the conveyor belt. Zac grabs three stacks of pancakes and two waffles, stacking them like a breakfast skyscraper.

“Uhh…are you sure you can eat all that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m getting some for the animals, too,” he says, patting my shoulder as he walks away to the next table.

My brain short-circuits for a half-second. Shoulder touch. Friendly shoulder touch. It’s nothing. Literally nothing. He probably pats everyone’s shoulder. It’s not like that meant anything—

“You okay?” Willow asks.

“Yup! Totally fine. I am thriving,” I say too quickly.

I grab a pancake and a slice of cheese pizza (I’m lactose intolerant, but don’t judge me, pizza is delicious), then join the group at a table. I squeeze in between Elowen and Tyler. I notice Zac sits across from me. Of course.

I’m about to bite into my pancake when I hear a laugh across the room. A mean laugh.

I look up.

There’s a girl in pink. Pink shirt, pink leggings, pink hair tie, pink glitter shoes. She’s laughing at me like I just slipped on a banana peel and fell into a trash can.

“Uhh,” I whisper. “Who’s that?”

Zac sighs. “That’s Daisy. She picks on people—especially the new ones. She’s…well. A lot.”

“And the weird part,” Tyler adds before anyone can stop him, “is that you and her have the same birthday. You’re even the same age. You’re just an hour older.”

Everyone freezes.

My fork pauses mid-air.

“How do you know what time, day, and year I was born?” I ask, dead serious now.

“Uhh—we don’t! We were just making it up!” Fawn blurts.

“Yeah!” Tyler adds too quickly. “It’s not like we knew you were born on May 15, 2010 at 6:26 PM or anything! Hahaha—!”

Bella slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shush, Tyler. Oh my gosh!”

I stare at them, eyes narrowing. “Ummm…that is exactly when I was born.”

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

And then Daisy walks over.

“Hey, new girl,” she purrs, smiling like a villain in a teen soap. “Do you like whipped cream?”

I stare. “I mean… yeah?”

“Good. Then HERE YOU GO!”

She blasts a full can of whipped cream straight into my face. It explodes everywhere—my hair, my lap, my soul.

“WOW,” I say, blinking cream out of my eyelashes. “What a great first day.”

Zac reaches across the table and gently wipes whipped cream off my nose with his napkin.

“Hey,” he says softly, just to me. “I’ve seen worse first days. You’re handling this like a pro.”

My cheeks burn and not from embarrassment. “Thanks.”

Elowen leans toward me with a smug little smirk. “Ohhh, look at you two being all mushy. Should I go get a violin and play some romantic background music?”

“Please don’t,” I mutter.

“Too late,” she sings. “Doo doo dooo, loooove is in the aaaiiir—”

Willow claps her hands. “Okay! Who’s ready for a food fight?”

Fawn’s eyes sparkle. “I am.”

Tyler grabs a pancake like it’s a frisbee. “Let’s gooo!”

I take a deep breath, whipped cream in my hair, and I smile. For the first time today, it feels like maybe, just maybe, I belong here.

Even if I did just get attacked by a dairy product.