Charlie Whitmen loves sports, junk food, video games, cars and basically anything-if not everything-your average teenaged boy would find interesting. But wait a second, Charlie isn't even a boy! Oh no, she's actually a girl!
Bet you didn't see that...
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Playing Hard to Get
After paying the bill, the Whitmens vacate their table and head towards the door. They make sure to thank Patty one last time and bid their farewells as they exit the diner. Outside, a warm breeze sweeps by. The seven of them walk towards their vehicles parked down the street with their stomachs all filled and their countenances exuberant. Then, Nick's phone starts blaring and his eyes widen while his mouth falls ajar. "Shit," he curses, slapping a palm over his face.
"What's the matter?" Alexander inquires, trying to see who the caller is.
"Jane," his older brother answers. That familiar, one-syllable name has everyone, including Mr Whitmen, shuddering in less than ten seconds.
"Your ex-girlfriend again?" Chase groans.
"What the hell does she want now?" Charlie rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval. She couldn't believe how desperate and pathetic some girls could get when it came to boys. What kind of bullshit is running through their heads to have them behaving in such shameful manners? Charlie has never been one to judge but Jane had hurt her brother which automatically makes her a terrible person.
"What else?" Ian scoffs.
"Whatever. I'm not going to answer it." Nick asserts, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Anyways, I have to get to work. Do you need me to drop you off at the batting cage, Charlie? I have to go and talk to Paul."
"Why not." Charlie shrugs as she climbs into the Jeep. "See you guys at home."
"Call me if you need a ride back," her father orders. The rest of her brothers get into the dark brown pickup truck that has been in their family longer than any of them have even been alive.
"I can take the bus."
"Not if it's dark out you aren't," he denies almost immediately.
"Dad," Charlie drones, letting her head fall back. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself."
"I know you are but it'll make me feel better," Mr Whitmen explains. "You are, after all, my little girl." He reaches into the car and ruffles her hair which is all confined into a ponytail.
The engine roars to life and Charlie buckles her seatbelt. "Fine, just don't call me that again."
Mr Whitman laughs and nods. "Deal."
Next, Nick shifts the gear to drive and peels away from the curb. As they cruise down the road, Charlie peers into the side-view mirror and watches as her father's figure, standing on the sidewalk, grows smaller and smaller. When he is no longer in sight, she faces forward and sighs out loud. "He should learn to trust me more."
"It's not that he doesn't trust you, Charlie," Nick says, coming to a complete stop at a red-light. "It's just—he worries about us."
"But it's not like I'm some defenseless kid. I've fought with guys twice my size growing up and I'm perfectly fine now, aren't I?" she reminds him, sticking her chin up into the air.
