Apple Pie This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Sunlight flooded my room, waking me. I heard the gentle howl of the wind outside my window. I knew it was cold out, but under my covers I remained warm and cozy. I forced myself up; no basking around in bed all day. As I kicked off my down comforter, chills ran up and down my spine like a mild electric shock. I put on a pair of my jeans, a v-neck sweater, and a pair of thick-knitted socks

I felt like rolling in the autumn leaves, climbing the tallest tree ... or maybe going apple picking. The air was perfect for apple picking: clean and fresh. I looked outside my window and next door, two kids were playing football with their father. I heard the father yell, "Go long!" Maybe today was a day for playing football. No, not for me.

As I walked downstairs, I smelled fresh pancakes and syrup with sausages on the side. My mom was wrapped in a terry cloth robe, stacking the pancakes high on the plates. The sausage was on a white plate in the center of our wooden table. My dad was already positioned at the table anxiously waiting. I sat down at the table, and my mom served the pancakes.

"So, what should we do today?" I looked outside the window.

My dad replied with a low beelike hum, "How 'bout we go ... apple picking?"

My head snapped back toward my father and I thought, Wow! Is that ironic. I would not let it be known that I was a female copy of my dad (come on, let's face it, I even look a little like him), so as I was about to answer him, the phone rang. "I'll get it."

"Dad ... Do you care if I go over to Melissa's house because ... she's having this Halloween party, and she kind of, sort of wanted me to help her get ..."

Before I even finished, my dad said, "Of course, we can go apple picking next weekend."

I felt bad, but I really wanted to go to Melissa's.

I got home that night about 10 o'clock, and I had a plan. I woke my dad, who was asleep on the couch, and said, "Hey, Dad. Wanna go apple picking?"

My dad's eyes lit up. "It's late."

"So?

"I'll go get my coat."

Dad and I went apple picking until about one in the morning. When we got home my stomach hurt from laughing all night. I fell right into bed, and when I woke up the next morning, I smelled fresh apple pie baking.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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