Watch Your Temper

Prologue

        "What's wrong with you, Temper? I don't understand you!"

Those very words sunk me even deeper into my doom.

"I didn't mean to do it, Mom," I protested, as we walked out of court.

She didn't answer me for a while. We had already opened the wide swinging doors, clambered down the concrete steps, and hollered out to a taxi before she finally responded.

"Temper Violet Adagio. How can you not 'mean' to steal? Do you realize the seriousness of what you did? I don't think that pair of earrings just got up off the display and flew into your bag. You shop-lifted an expensive item. You placed an object that you did not buy and placed it in your bag. Do you get it?" she managed to say all in one breath. My mom was pretty talented at ranting like that.

"Yes, sir- I mean m'am- I mean mom!" I stuttered, taking a seat in the taxi. Once her words actually hit me, I felt horrible. Why? Why did I steal those stupid earrings? They weren't even real Tiffany's. So much for crappy knock-offs.

"Why did you steal those earrings?" Mom asked calmly, voicing my thoughts.

"I told you, Mom. Amber Dubois said if I ever wanted to hang out with her-" I started.

"Oh, don't give me that junk, missy. You are lucky you got away with community service and the store owner forgave you!" she grumbled, turning away from me and glaring out at the blurred buildings as we sped by. Shit.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out this meant the end of our conversation, but I just had to ask her something.

"Mom?" I whispered. The taxi driver probably thought I was some juvenile delinquent. Which, I guess, wasn't very far from the truth.

"What?" she spat, not even looking at me.

"Where am I going to do my service at?" I continued.

"I'm going to ask Mr. Lane if you can work at his corner store," she grunted. Mr. Lane was our elderly neighbour, and my mom was close friends with him and his wife. Hopefully he'd be nice enough to let me volunteer at his place for the allotted amount of time. It wasn't really volunteer work... I mean, I was sort of forced into it, but that was just the punishment for stealing the jewelry.

"Alright. Thanks," I squeaked, too afraid to say anything more.

"I love you, Temper. But promise me something, hon," she gently demanded, turning her bleary eyes towards me again.

"Sure," I agreed.

"Please don't get into any more trouble. I have your brother to look after too, and you know how much he hates it when you do stuff like this."

Damn. I was a horrible daughter.

My poor mom. Here she was, in New York City, raising two children by herself, desperately trying to make ends meet. And I was just trouble. 

I would run away, but that would just cause even more problems. And whose fault would that be? Mine, again. As usual.

And then there was Ronnie-- my little nine year-old genius brother, who was a straight-A student and made me look worse than I really was. Well, almost worse. 

"Mom, why did dad leave us?" I said softly, placing my hand on her shoulder.

She didn't say anything.

"Mom? Tell me!" pleaded.

"Watch your temper, Temper," she muttered, and closed her drooping eyes. So much for that.

Mom-1.     Temper-0.

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Rewriting this baby! Hang on to your hats, folks, because this here is the wildest ride in the west... (Thunder Mountain, anyone?)

Anyway, please don't forget to comment, vote and fan! I looooove when you guys and gals do that! Thanks again.

-Jenna