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“Malia?” Kira tiptoed into her bedroom, not wanting to further disturb an already-disturbed Malia. She sighed and smiled when she saw a distinctly Malia-shaped lump beneath the purple and pink blankets of her bed.
“Don’t look at me,” Malia said, voice muffled.
Kira sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly patting Malia’s shoulder (or at least what she guessed was a shoulder). “Malia, I’m not mad. Neither is my dad. We don’t even like that vase.”
Malia groaned, curling in tighter on herself. “But I bet it’s really old and special, and I broke it.”
Kira laughed, pulling up the blankets at the end of the bed and wriggling beneath them. “Malia, my mom bought that vase at Pier One two years ago.” She came nose-to-nose with Malia, who looked sad and forlorn in the dark blanket cave.
“Really?” Malia asked, voice small. “I didn’t ruin everything?”
Kira smiled and kissed Malia on the tip of her nose. Malia swatted her hand away; she hated Kira’s nose-kisses, she’d much rather have lip-kisses any day of the week. But she returned Kira’s smile. “I’m sorry I broke the vase and then hid in your bedroom. I’m also sorry I got so excited for your dad’s oatmeal cookies that I knocked over a table.”
Kira laughed, snuggling into Malia in their cave for two. “In your defense, they are good cookies.”