[Alex's POV]

When I get home, loud music greets me even before I open the front door. It makes me smile inadvertently. My dad isn't home often, but when he is, he likes to cook dinner. And when he prepares food, he likes to turn on whatever music that soothes his mood, with the volume loud enough so that it tunes out all the clamour of the kitchen (and a certain someone piping along). The music that greets me today is Spanish salsa, which makes me wonder what we'll be eating this evening.

So yeah, the loud music could be considered "normal".

What isn't normal, is the smell of something burning which greets me once I enter the living room. My dad is a good cook. He'd never burn his food.

But the cause of the smell doesn't stay a mystery for long. I almost immediately spot an unattended flat-iron, face down, plugged in and working on a T-shirt. A thin thread of smoke is rising up from the sizzling parts where the iron touches the fabric. It is on the verge of catching flame.

I act instantly, sprint to the ironing board, set the flat-iron up straight, unplug it, grabb the first bottle of water I come by and dump its contents on the sizzling T-shirt, just to be safe.

If those actions seem like a smooth and tested process, that's because it is. My dad is notorious for wrecking clothes. It's short of a miracle that he hasn't burned down the house yet.

"God damn it, dad!" I yell towards the kitchen but don't get a reply.

"DAD!" I yell again, loud enough to be heard over the music this time, and am rewarded with a face peeking around the kitchen corner.

There he is, Mar Black, my dad. It is clear that I resemble him. We have the same black hair, the same tanned skin, the same build, the same taste for clothes, the same sense of humour, the same interests, ... Everything! Except for the colour of our eyes. My dad's are grey, while mine are blue.

For a man in his forties, Mar looks incredibly young. With his shoulder-length black hair, currently pulled up in a half ponytail, and not a wrinkle on his face to give away his age, it wouldn't be the first time somebody mistook him for my older brother instead.

And right now, that man is looking at me curiously, clearly wondering what all the havoc is about. In reply, I sigh and hold up the burned and soaked T-shirt.

"Oh!" my dad exclaims, disappears behind the kitchen corner to turn down the music and reappears a moment later.

"It was my last neutral one too," he sulks. With good reason, if you ask me. Today my dad especially took the day off to hear all about my first day of school, but usually he's rarely home. He would always be locked up in his laboratory, researching one thing or another. When he would find the time to buy new T-shirts was a big question mark.

"I thought I'd told you not to touch a flat-iron ever again? You could have burned down the house! You didn't touch any of my clothes, did you?" I ask and start looking around the room, half expecting to find a heap of burned and discarded clothes, but luckily don't spot any.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Shush, don't nag boy," my dad chuckles as he ruffles my hair, sniffs the air and hurries back into the kitchen.

"Don't baby me!" I yell after him as I straighten out my ruffled hair and follow after him.

I sigh as I lean against the cupboard next to the stove. Dad is stirring some yellow-red substance, which seems to consist mostly of rice and shrimp.

Sometimes I wonder how things would have been if my mom had still been around. Not that I actually know the woman. Nope, she is a huge taboo subject. One my dad does not like to talk about and avoids at all cost.

"How was your first day of school?" my dad asks with a worried glance towards me. He knows that I've been struggling to make new friends.

"Great, actually. I finally managed to make some friends and one of them even gave me a tour of the school earlier," I say, feeling myself cheer up again.

"That's good then. Is that why you're late?" he asks as he glances at the clock on the wall.

"Yeah... I also bumped into one of my classmates on my way home after that," I say as the event replays in my mind. "I think she doesn't like me very much."

"Why would you say that?" dad asks in surprise.

"Well, she always acts nervous when I'm around. I'm not too certain that I did her a favour when I chased off her bully earlier."

"A bully?! You didn't get into a fight, did you?" Dad asks. He looks like he is ready to drop everything to conduct a thorough medical examination.

"No, I didn't need to. The guy said he was only there to talk to an old friend," I grumble. Dad considers my words for a second.

"Sounds like a smart kid to me. He weighed his chances of winning in a fight against you and knew they were nought," he says. I roll my eyes at him. I know my dad is trying to move my thoughts.

"He was a lot bigger than I am though," I challenge, curious to see what he would say next.

"Tssk, as if. He could be a gorilla for all I care, he still wouldn't have been able to touch you."

"That's too much," I laugh and then still. "It's still strange though, she didn't strike me as the type to get bullied. And I'll be honest with you, it kinda hurt that she seemed to be more afraid of me than of the bully."

Dad looks at me strangely for a second. It reminds me of pity but doesn't quite seem to cover it.

"Don't worry, Alex. You only met her today. Give her some time to get to know you," he says. "Now, will you set the table? Dinner is almost ready."

"Do I still have time to change out of my uniform?"

"Ten more minutes until the paella is ready."

"Ok, I'll hurry!" I say as I race up the stairs to my room. I still don't understand why Otto reacted to me the way she had, but dad seem to think everything is ok. So I push the thoughts to the back of my mind to think about it some other time.