GUYS. I got 30K WORDS. THIRTY THOUSAND WORDS! CAN I GET A WHAT?!

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{ Chapter Three: Sometimes You Need Little Pink Hearts }

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JANICE DIDN'T GET A SINGLE WINK OF SLEEP THE ENTIRE NIGHT. With the insults of her Aunt (burned casserole and being jobless weren't the best impression), accompanied with the stress of what exactly she was supposed to do about her "tomboyish phase", there were also the baby cries.

Wails that didn't seem to just ricochet of the walls, but penetrate through them, even five doors and a floor apart, where Janice lay raccoon eyed in the basement of her room.

It doesn't help that she's a light sleeper, while her brothers probably could sleep through gun shots and bomb explosions.

God, it was like having Rebecca Black on a stereo with full volume.

At one point, probably around seven in the morning, the sobs ceased, along with the pounding in her head, the silence enough to evince her relief.

Even though she wasn't a big fan of mornings, she decided it might as well scroll through the options of becoming more... "feminine".

Even the word sounded wrong on the tip of her tongue. Picturing herself in frills and tutus, Janice shudders, pulling her nighttime robe closer to her body, her feet padding the ground beneath her as she walks up the stairs to prepare herself breakfast.

Maybe brazen, unburned pancakes can make her seem matrimonial, or whatever the hell a "woman" was supposed to do.

Do I need to smell like flowers and grow out my hair to my ankles? she wonders as she begins mixing the batter. That doesn't sound feminine, that makes me sound hippie.

She brought herself to touch the cropped auburn hair that went just a little past ears, wondering if she could even manage if it were that long, especially since it was thick and healthy, even though she dyed it a couple times before it turned this colour.

Losing herself in her cooking, she hums the tune of Bridges by Broods, autopilot taking control of her body as she cracks eggs and sizzles turkey bacon (pork just made her queasy).

She then went on to setting the table with silverware and making sure she didn't miss any extra chocolate chips for Aàron, since he loved them most.

Cooking was her solace, and the only thing that could calm her down like a hug.

Soon, the sounds of rustling takes place of people waking up to partake in the noise of her clashing pots and pans, and it's not long before she see's blatantly exhausted Karlo clamber down the stairs, hair sticking up in enough ways that made bird nests look gorgeous.

Janice just laughs at his bed hair and battered Diego pajama's. "How old are you, four?"

"Don't diss mi amigo, okay," he shoots back, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes, his hazel eyes widening once he see's the spread in front of him. "Whoa, when did you get the time to do this? How long did this take? It's like a buffet!"

She shrugs, going to back to flip the last pancake of the batch. "Cakes made in a pan aren't that hard to do, you know."

"You don't do things this elaborate unless something's on your mind," Karlo says, sliding into a wooden chair of the dining table, already preparing his meal once Janice left the bottle of amber maple syrup down.

"It's nothing," she says offhandedly, always finding it peculiar on how well Karlo understood her. "Just couldn't sleep because of the babies. Wanted to be productive."

He rolls his eyes. "Even I couldn't get any shut eye until two because of those devil children. I'm going to be bunking downstairs with you after tonight if they keep that up."

Janice laughs, flickering chocolate batter at him, "yeah, no. See, dad got me the queen-sized bed just for me. Learn your place. Stick to your single, rascal."

Karlo sticks out his tongue, wiping the chocolate off his face. "That does it, I'm bringing my blanket and pillow after I'm done."

"I'm locking the door before you can."

"I'll climb in through the basement window!"

"Last time you did that, you almost broke your arm, you moron!" she says. "Now, move over. Aunt Maria might sit there."

Before she finishes that sentence, she groans. "Ugh, where are the high chairs for the little ones?"

Karlo swallows his gulp before raising his eyebrows at her. "Why're you so concerned? They'll probably get milk in a bottle or that mushy cereal on the floor. Relax. You didn't even eat anything yet."

Jane knows that her empty stomach would be greater without having to worry about upchucking the contents in it. "I think we have some downstairs in the closet, I'll be back."

"Jane, chill," Karlo calls after her, but she has already hurried down to get the toddler equipment (she remembered to turn off the stove this time).

After finding a couple beaten-up but still usable toddler certified chairs residing in the back of the closet, only then does she let out a sigh of calm. By the time she resurfaces, most of the family was lounging in the dining area. Unfortunately, that also included Aunt Maria.

Janice forces a smile, placing the high chairs next to where Uncle Shawn was sitting.

Uncle Shawn is a quiet man, who kept most to himself and followed whatever his wife told him, much to Janice's dismay, who found great importance in one's independence. "Good morning, everyone."

"Took you a while to get ready, huh, sweetheart?" Aunt Maria chides.

Karlo was about to correct her and tell his aunt that Janice was the person who actually cooked the meals (who else the aunt thought could've done it, only she knows), but Janice gave a subtle shake of her head to signify that he not jump in.

With her Aunt's judgmental look focused on her, Janice wondered if politely punching someone in the face was a great way to start a morning.

Probably because Aunt Maria had a dreadful — as unbiased as dreadful could get for her to say — afro (that her aunt probably decided to leave it instead of working the trouble), Janice just smirks.

While she had nothing against the beauty of the hair itself, Maria's did not have a beautiful halo in perfect formation nor did she have hair that was it soft to touch.

Instead, she had the kind that looks like a broom top in the morning, especially because she hardly took care of it.

Janice settles for a steady, unflinching gaze. "Not as long as it must've taken to get those luscious locks of your hair done."

Karlo, who is closest to the conversation, almost choked on his milk, and Janice muffles her laughs. She's saved by whatever fuming reply Maria said because her father, who was formerly absent, walks in.

Marcus Diablo is, no doubt, an attractive man.

With a fairly well-set physique from hard labour of his job as a mechanic, set with golden eyes that all his sons inherited, he didn't look as old as the stress lines around his eyes suggested. He's a man that might look like a prince, even when he was brought up harsher than most servants can believe.

So when a man like him walks into a room with pink, heart pajama pants, it's bound to stop a conversation.

"Dad," Alejandro voicing what everyone was thinking. "What are you wearing?"

Marcus shrugs and slid into the chair at the front of the maroon table, as if his entire family wasn't confused about his wardrobe change. "Pants. Janice, could you pass me a pancake, please?"

"But why... those pants, Marc?" Maria asks her brother, her voice sounding choked.

"Thanks, Janice. And because they're comfortable, Maria," he says, so matter-of-factly that it made it seem as if the entire issue was stupid (which, really, it kind of was).

"You're rocking the pink, papa," Karlo winks at his dad.

Marcus smiles at his son. "Rocking the Diego, hijo."

As if on cue, one of the toddlers, Flora, Janice remembers, comes running from where she was previously in the living room, sporting her own -- get this -- Dora onesie.

"Diego, go!" Flora coos, and Karlo chuckles before picking her up and letting her bounce on her knee. Flora gurgles happily, clapping her hands furiously as she is propelled up and down.

Janice has always remarked Karlo's absolutely brilliant connection with children. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he is the oldest, or the fact that he does volunteer work at the daycare sometimes. If there was any chance of a babysitting business for anyone, Karlo would flourish or include a burned down house.

As long as he stuck to ready-made milk, he would do fine.

Janice settles into the spare chair on her left, and the conversation milled comfortably.

At one point, she zones out and started focusing on the chocolate strawberries currently being chopped on her plate, reminding herself that if she had a chance to swing by the grocery store on the way to or from wherever the hell she planned to take a trip to today (she could've been going to Neverland, she was that desperate) she needed to pick up some extra fruits and chocolate syrup.

"... yes, Janice?"

Janice blinks, her reverie breaking, to note everyone was looking at her expectantly. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

She hears a laugh from Aàron, but she doesn't miss the stare from her aunt.

"We asked what your plans for today were, chica," replies her aunt.

"Oh," Janice says simply, before realizing they're asking for her to elaborate. "Uh, well, I was actually going to go out and check out some new jobs."

The stunned silence from around her unnerved her, but also, in a weird way, empowered her to continue. "I decided that since school's going to be over in another semester, I might as well look into doing something about paying for tuition and supplies for next year."

"Wow, Janice, you're making us look bad with your responsibility," Alejandro teases, and Janice grins crookedly at him.

Then Alejandro straightens and looks at their father. "Wait, that doesn't mean we need to get jobs, right? I mean, I'm pretty busy, you know."

"With what, your gaming console and non-existent girlfriend?" his twin says, "yeah, so damn busy."

"Okay, okay, enough about you both and your... laziness." Marcus says. "Janice, you know you don't need to worry about those things. I've got them covered."

Before Janice can soothe her father's worried expression, her Aunt jumps in. "I think it's a great show of maturity for her to do something like this, Marc."

Throwing Marcus a meaningful look, Mr. Diablo sighs, but his worried look isn't erased.

"Dad," Karlo, surprisingly, steps up. "I think it'll be good for us. Plus, whatever Janice plans to do could get me a discount on something, so I'm always up to it."

Janice narrows her eyes. "Who said you'd get a discount?"

"Sis, I make discounts."

"Because you're too cheap for anything off sale?"

"Hey! I'll have you know girls are all over my expensive, rare as hell Karlo-ness!"

"Yeah, but how many are actually free for your dates on Friday?" Janice asks, and the twins 'oh-ed' loudly.

When a particular awkward silence emitted, Janice reminded herself of the three braids her aunt must've done with her hair for her to stay in a good mood.

Once everyone left to live their own lives — which is mostly sleep and eat and repeat —she helps clear the table with her dad. They work beside each other in comfortable silence, their alone time together making it seem like there was something to be discussed but no way to approach it without feeling cornered or upset.

Once Mr. Diablo just couldn't seem to put it aside any longer, he pipes up, although as gently as he can. "Janice... is there any specific reason why you feel the need to get a job? I mean, do you have a money issue or need to do this for... someone?"

Janice sighs, putting the plates in her hand into the sink, both of them now in the kitchen to clean the silverware up at this point. "I knew you were going to be concerned. No, papa, I promise. It's just, I think it's time I spent my spare moments more wisely. I wasn't kidding about the supplies. It's going to be wicked expensive for my senior year next year. America doesn't seem to give us kids slack for it."

He chuckles, agreeing with her. "No, it doesn't, caro. Ohio seems to get a kick out of pushing us for taxes and steam-washing out wallets. But that can't be all. Sorry if I seem a little cautious, it's just that you sprung this up so suddenly. You're only young once, Jane. I don't want you to feel as if you're obligated to do something like this, especially when I saw you only a day ago running around the park with a football in hand."

Janice doesn't know how to respond.

That she's only doing this so her aunt would get off her back? That she could also use the spare change to finally buy the car her dad couldn't afford so she didn't need to spend 20 minutes everyday using the subway? That she felt like if her mother were here, breathing and alive and here, than Janice could only imagine the disappointment engraved on her face?

Because that's the only facial gesture Janice thinks she can inflict at all.

Instead, she smiles, winking. "You always know how I feel about being one-upped about anything by Karlo. Call it competition. I think it's about time that he knows who's the real boss around here."

"Yeah, let's ignore your father, the one who raised you and brought you up. How could he be the boss at all, huh?" her father grumbles, but not before she caught a smile making its way onto his face.

So they went back to their respective jobs, him washing, her drying, their pleasant small talk never straying into anything deeper, other than the fact why he thought wearing pink, hearted pj's were a trend. But Janice was feeling good about herself.

For once, she had a plan; she's just hoping she doesn't somehow need to go back to the drawing board.

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A/N: 30K, guys. I'm crying. In five days!! ! Also, thank you so much for the reads, votes and comments! I read every single one and it makes me overjoyed to see all your pleasant reactions.

question: where do you think Janice will find a job?

have a great day, guys! Regards, Sarena x