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Court stared into the fridge.
It was quick to take inventory. A gallon of milk, a half stick of margarine, some Yo-Gurt tubes for the twins, and an entire shelf of condiments. By Sunday night, any ingredients for dinner were long gone, including leftovers used to make more leftovers. His mother would go shopping first thing in the morning, but that wouldn't help him now.
He was no stranger to eating spoonfuls of ketchup to satiate the ache in his stomach, but he had a long shift ahead of him tonight. What was it that Colt always said? He needed carbs? Yeah. Court needed some of that.
“Unfuck yourself, Gentry,” he muttered. Giving the shelves one last, forlorn look, he gave up on the fridge and wandered over to the pantry instead. It took some rustling through the cabinets, pushing around a half-empty bag of flour and a half-eaten bag of chocolate chips that he made a mental note to ask the twins about, but he came up triumphant with an expired cup of microwavable mac and cheese.
Smugly, he carried his prize to the sink, filled it with water, and turned to open the microwave. The door swung open wide, and Court froze with his arm halfway extended towards the plate. Water sloshed over the rim of the microwavable cup, but he hardly noticed.
He stared into the microwave.
Something was already in there.
“What the fuck?” He whispered. He set down his cup of mac and cheese and leaned in to inspect the massive white cloud sitting inside the microwave. It was fluffy, almost the consistency of whipped cream, but he was too horrified to touch it and see if it felt that way.
“Boys!” He called, still staring into the microwave. “Come here, please!”
Colt bounded into the kitchen first. He was wearing a cowboy hat and a tracksuit that was too small, the cuffs of his pants cut just a little too high above his ankles, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Court had no idea where he scrounged that outfit from, but it was likely a lost relic from the back of the twins’ dresser drawer.
“Yeah?” Colt asked. His eyes narrowed in on the cup of mac and cheese on the counter, and his face lit up. “Are we having mac and cheese?”
“You already ate dinner,” Court reminded him.
“I like mac and cheese,” Colt countered. “Like, so much.”
Ryland trailed into the kitchen next. He was still wearing his school clothes, right down to his pair of battered sneakers, but he looked rumpled and a little distracted. Court figured he spent the last hour or so reading in bed, too distracted to do anything other than absorb himself in whatever topic he was fixated on this week.
“I wanted to ask you what is in the microwave,” Court told them. He hoped his face conveyed his confusion just as sternly as his tone did. He was not looking forward to cleaning up whatever the hell that was. It would be even worse if they had to replace the microwave entirely.
Colt didn’t even bother to look. “Mac and cheese?”
“Soap,” Ryland said, matter-of-factly.
“What?” Court asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Colt nodded. “Our soap.”
“That’s soap? It’s fluffy.” Court turned to reconsider the pile of fluff. It did smell fresh, like a bar of soap would, but what the fuck had they done to make it look that way? “What the f… fudge did you do to it?”
“Microwaved it,” Ryland said.
He was entirely unbothered by Court’s horror. He wandered closer and reached out to pick up the pile directly with his bare hand. Court flinched, prepared to grab it from his brother if it burned him, but Ryland was smiling.
“The heat causes the water and air molecules trapped inside the soap bar to expand so it gets all fluffy, but it has to be Ivory soap, or it doesn’t work ‘cause of the air bubbles.”
“I did it, too,” Colt agreed. “Ry found it in one of the books he got from the library. He said I could do it!”
“We need more soap,” Ryland told Court.
Court opened his mouth, paused to consider his next words, then said, “Did you microwave all the soap in the bathroom?”
Surely not. His mother went to the store just last week for body wash, toothpaste, soap, toilet paper, and bubble bath for the twins. She had splurged on her budget for the more expensive brand of soap for him and the twins. Now that they were caught up on the electric bill, they had some breathing room for things like good soap.
At least, until his brothers found out they could microwave it as a science experiment.
“You can still use it to clean your hands,” Ryland said. He held up the pile of fluffy soap for Court as a silent offer, which Court did not reach out to take. Ryland added, as if in an afterthought, “I think it still works. The heat only expanded it, but that wouldn't break any of the chemical bonds.”
Court briefly pictured it: standing in the shower, cold water running through his hair and down his body as he furiously scrubs at his skin with a cloud of soap. Where would he even keep it? That thing wouldn't fit on the soap ledge built into the tub.
“Cool,” Court said faintly. “Can one of you remind Mom to buy soap this week?”
“Okay,” Ryland chirped. Court had full faith he would remind their mother to buy more soap and prove to her why it was necessary the moment they returned home and had access to the microwave.
“Uh-huh,” Colt said. Court had less faith in his brother's ability to remember to tell her. Luckily, Ryland was there to keep both of them humble.
Satisfied, the two of them left the kitchen. Colt ran like he was being chased, but Ryland only shuffled after him with his handful of soap cradled like a holy relic. Court silently put his cup of mac and cheese into the microwave to heat his meager dinner and watched it spin on the plate inside as if the cup would expand just as fervently as the soap.
He hoped it wouldn’t taste like soap. Perhaps the spoonful of ketchup wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.