NICK HATED AUNT CARA.

She hated everyone in the household, but especially Aunt Cara.

Nick didn’t even like Aunt Cara’s name. She tried to get away by using her last name, Trunk, but Aunt Cara insisted she is called by her first name so that Nick felt part of the “family”.

It could be worse, Nick thought glumly. She might have forced me to call her ‘mom’ or ‘mommy dearest.’

The Trunks lived in a big house with a lot of old, saggy wooden furniture. They had three boys, one aged eight and the other two aged four. None of them were very likable, and the eight-year-old named Reagan took a particular disliking towards Nick as if she were his replacement. But Nick was glad that there was only so much an eight-year-old could do, and her vocabulary of insults far surpassed his after years of building upon it.

The other two boys were twins, though they looked very different. Travis was the louder one that took after his mother, with straight brown hair and eyes. The only thing he inherited from his father was a large, pudgy nose. Chris was quieter, but he wore a permanent scowl on his face and glared at everything. He looked like a particularly repulsive mix of exactly half of his mother and half of his father. He had hair the color of chewed-up cud and tiny, beady black eyes. He had a fat, round face and a flat nose, with a set of crooked and missing teeth to match.

Uncle Trunk was a large balding man with an uneven beard the color of yellowing mowed grass. He too seemed to disapprove of everything around him, though his perpetual scowl was slightly less furious than his son’s. He didn’t like Nick very much, and would often complain loudly of the expenses needed to feed another mouth. But when Nick tried to eat as little as possible, he’d act insulted that she didn’t eat their food.

But nobody compared to Aunt Cara.

She was always so fake, pretending to be nice and happy. Her high, noncommittal voice made Nick want to kill herself. I’m not sure if I can take another, “Marine, dear, would you like some more pie?”, Nick thought angrily.

As if someone were listening, Aunt Cara’s voice rang clearly from the porch, “Marine honey, dinner’s ready!”

Nick gritted her teeth, before plastering on a fake smile and starting back to the house. For the past two days, she spent most of her time outside. She couldn’t stand the suffocating interior.

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“Sweetie, it’s been cold these days. Don’t you want to come inside and play with the boys?” Aunt Cara asked and Nick neared her.

Nick restrained from snorting. Play with the boys? As if you didn’t realize they are five years younger than me. “I like outside, Aunt Cara,” Nick said stiffly, emphasizing the “aunt.”

“Oh, I suppose the fresh air is good for you, dear. The boys should get some too. They’d be more than happy to join you tomm—”

“No!” Nick blurted. “Er…there’s no fence! I won’t be able to take care of them!”

Aunt Cara was slightly taken aback. “Oh, don’t worry dear. I’ll be—”

“I—I have a stronger immune system!” Nick persisted. “I can handle the cold. But the boys are too young. They should stay inside.”

“Ah, I see. Very smart of you darling…” Aunt Cara said uncertainly.

“Now what’s for dinner?” Nick said loudly. “I’m hungry.”

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DINNER WAS A STIFF AND JOYLESS AFFAIR.

Reagan clung to his mother and said fake and cheesy words promising his love and devotion. Travis screamed half of the time and threw peas across the room. Chris and Uncle Trunk adopted the same twisted glare and chewed rather aggressively. Aunt Cara made many pathetic and hopeless attempts at conversation, mostly towards Nick, which all ended in single-worded responses.

Nick took as little as possible from everything, and chewed with as much vigor and energy as possible, so Uncle Trunk would only yell as little as possible.

“Marine darling, would you like to see some of your old friends tomorrow?” Aunt Cara asked.

“No,” Nick replied, spearing another pea with her fork.

After an awkward pause, Aunt Cara continued. “Would you like some more peas?” she offered.

“No, thank you.”

“Will you be staying for dessert?”

“I’m very full, Aunt Cara,” Nick sighed. “May I be excused?”

“Oh, you don’t need to ask—” but Nick was already out of the room, going up the stairs as quietly as possible. She reached her room, was consisted of a small bed that was too soft, and a few bare cabinets and desks. All of Nick’s little belongings were still packed in her suitcase. She didn’t feel like taking them out. Decorating was something Nick only did in her home.

Nick sighed heavily. She knew what was going on downstairs. She could practically hear Aunt Cara’s voice, her face full of pity.

“Poor thing…no parents…don't be like that!... I suppose…she’s part of her family now…good thing she has us…must be lonely…sits outside like that…don’t know how she copes with it…very sad…she’s opening up to us…feelings bottled up…eat your green beans, Travis.”

Then, of course, there was Uncle Trunk.

“What use is she?...does nothing… criminal parents…so what? Cara, we aren’t rich! …poor thing? That’s what you said to the dog at the pound! …Did you see how much she ate? … the boys…our fine children…bad influence…bad blood in her…I say we give her to someone else…”

And finally Reagan, the only other person who was capable of making complete sentences that made sense.

“Mommy! …dad’s right…I don’t like her…she hates me! …I am…no, don’t make me! …mommy… you’re the best mommy in the world…I love you…”

Nick groaned and collapsed to the floor.

One thing was for certain, this family was better off without her.