"Sweetest mother ever, will thee be so kind to help your dearest daughter?" I asked with my English accent. It was so thick like ice in heavy winters you could just slip over it.

I placed myself on one of the stools at our dining table. Mum walked out of the kitchen and looked at my pile that my teachers generously called 'homework'.

Word went around the school that the teachers formed some kind of pact on how to grip students harder this year, because too many previous students failed big time.

And yes indeed, that's what they did. By starting to give your students buckets loaded with homework. You have to love it though. But I guess that nobody really does.

Although, I have to say, I didn't mind it when my English teacher, Ms. Laoghaire, gave me buckets with homework. I enjoyed having English homework that I ended up hating everyone and everything when I didn't get any.

It's the weirdest of the weirdest, I know.

I snapped out of my thoughts and started looking through the pages of my college block.

Mum gave me a puzzled look, the look that she always gave me when I slowly slipped away in my train of thoughts. She spoke loudly and because of that I dropped my pen.

It whooshed away and rolled under the sofa.

"Great," I said, perhaps a little bit louder than meant as my mum looked at me strangely.

"Sweetie...? Should I go and get your father? I'm sure he knows how to help you with everything you've got there." She gave me a soft smile and walked up the stairs.

I heard the door open and close, the stairs creaked under my dad's footsteps.
"So, what do you need help with?" My dad asked and smiled at me. "French," I said looking at the pile. "All that...is your homework French?" he asked me. I gave a slight nod. "All of it, dad. Can you help me?" I asked. My eyes hopeful and big.
"Well, of course, I can. That's why your mother sent me downstairs," he explained, grinning like a person who just did something naughty. I smiled softly and grabbed the pile that was my French homework.
French is the language I choose. I could've chosen another language of course, but since I wanted to study in French. It was smart to learn about the culture and the language itself.
I opened the page of the book and grabbed my college block. "What exactly do you need to make, Jane?" dad asked. I looked at him shortly before glaring at the sofa, where my pen lies under. My dad followed my gaze and snorted, "here," he reached out his pen to me. His lucky pen.
I looked at him a few seconds, before taking the pen. "Thanks," I said softly before answering his question, "and I need to learn grammar. I have a test upcoming," I said searching for the page in my college block where I already had something written in French.
I am very organized...or maybe not
"Hello? Anyone home? Mom? Dad?" I heard her before I even heard the front door close.
"We are in the kitchen sweetheart!" Dad stood up from his stool as Kate, my sister, walked towards us. My dad gave Kate a big embrace. "Ah, Kate. So good to see you again." She laughed in the hug.
"Dad, it's only been a few weeks. Don't overreact." I smiled at them and stood up as well. Standing next to the table, getting my homework into a pile again. After I put everything into a neat pile, I walked to Kate and gave her a big hug. "It's great to see you again," I said smiling. "Indeed, it is," she said letting me go. "I've missed you all."
I gave her a big smile, "glad to have you here, now you can eat the 'Thanksgiving meal' with us that mum has cooked." I smiled and looked at Kate. But mum said differently, "it is nota big dinner," she said with a concerned look on her face, looking at Kate and me.
"Well, you sure love to cook, and most of the time you cook a big meal, so I wouldn't be surprised if it was a 'Thanksgiving meal'," dad said smiling at his wife. "But you love me for it, don't you?" My mum said, and they began being all lovely. I took that as my cue to leave.
Things get all awkward when they start kissing each other. Everything gets awkward when they start doing that.
"Hey dad, thank you for agreeing helping me, but I think I can manage alone after all!" I yelled behind me as I sort of ran out of the kitchen.
I opened the door of my room and walked to my desk. Putting my books on the desk, I let out a sigh. French is just so difficult, and in order to study it properly and correctly, you need to concentrate very well. But the mood I was in before, was gone. Now I just felt tired and the need to take a very long nap.
And I planned to do so if it wasn't for the knock on my door. It opened and I saw Kate peeking in. After she saw me, she stood up straight and came inside. "Finally, some peace," she said chuckling. "Do I even want to know what they are doing?" I asked, but it was a stupid question because I really didn't. "No, you don't," Kate said and laughed as she walked to my bed and sat beside me.
"So, how is everything going? How was your honeymoon?" I asked and wiggled my eyebrows. Kate laughed, "now, don't do that!" She said with a funny look on her face. "Don't do what?" I asked but I knew what she meant. "Wiggle your eyebrows! Anyways, it was perfect! Patrick cooked every night, and the ocean was so beautiful!" She told me all the things she had done with a big smile that was plastered on her face.
"I am very happy for you, truly, I am," I looked her in the eyes and smiled. She deserved all the happiness in this world. "Thank you, Jane." Kate gave me another big hug. And at that exact point, all hell broke loose.