Misbegotten

Five

"You took my five year old daughter on what?" Florence yelled as she paced in front of me running an agitated hand through her blonde matted locks that were looking dry and flaky from the salt water. I was currently standing in the middle of my dad and Florence's hut. My dad was sitting patiently on the king sized bed looking back and fourth between his wife and I like he was at some sort of tennis match. Cleo sat nervously on her bed in the corner.

"It was just a water ride. Perfectly safe," I replied for about the fourth time.

"She is not a strong swimmer," Florence said through gritted teeth.

"I was wearing a life jacket mummy, and Sofia was holding on to me," Cleo added in a small voice.

"This is very irresponsible of you Sofia," Florence shook her head at me. "I'm very disappointed."

"Oh no, you don't get to do that," I shook my head. "You don't get to pull the 'I'm disappointed in you' card. Besides you're the one that left her in my care. If you didn't think I was fit for the job you should've left her with Chelsea or Cameron." I was frustrated at how I was raising my voice. I hated showing her that she was making me angry, but she was being just a little too ridiculous this time.

"I will not be placing her in your care again," she snapped, turning away and walking into the bathroom out of sight.

"Thanks for the support dad," I called out over my shoulder as I left letting the door to their hut slam shut loudly behind me.

I needed to calm down. I hated getting so worked up over Florence. She didn't deserve to play with my emotions like she always did. Trust her to single-handily destroy my happy mood. Well maybe not single-handily, my dad could've done something, but true to form he just sat there and let his wife make all the decisions. 

Irritated I walked back to my hut. The day was slowly becoming night as the sun began to lower over the horizon leaving a pink residue in its wake. Most people we're heading out of their cabins towards dinner, but the last thing I felt at the moment was hungry. Slamming the door behind me I walked into my room.

"Hey, watch it, you're going to break the hinges if you slam it like that and I don't need weirdos walking into the room in the middle of the night," Chelsea snapped crossing her arms across her chest and standing to glare at me. She was already dressed for dinner in a white maxi dress, her face done up with makeup. I swear she even had fake-eyelashes on.

"You sure you don't want a certain someone sneaking in?" I retorted not in the mood for her constant condescending tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she gasped.

"You know what it means," I muttered under my breath as I shuffled through my draw in an attempt to find my pyjamas.

"If you don't get ready for dinner now you'll be late...though what else is new."

"I'm not going to dinner," I said simply, finally pulling out my pyjama shorts and a black singlet.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean? It was a relatively simple statement Chelsea," I snapped.

"Did you fight with my mum again?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"When am I not fighting with your mother?"

"I meant an actual fight, not the constant one," she clarified.

"When you put it that way then yes, we aren't on the best terms. Not that we ever were. I would prefer not to go to dinner, not that I need your permission. Bye." I stalked out of the room to the bathroom closing the door and locking it. I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself. I didn't know why I was so worked up all of a sudden; if anything the argument with Florence was miniscule compared to our previous fights. I just hated that she seriously thought I would put Cleo in a dangerous situation. Even more I hated that she tried to parent me with the "I'm disappointed in you" shit.