A Long Way From Home

Chapter Seven: Packed Bags

        "I'm home!" I shouted dully into the house, stepping inside with rain dripping from my hair. The door shut behind me with a boom, a literal boom, as thunder rumbled outside. I stepped on the heel on my boots and yanked my feet out, my wet socks squelching on the floor. I took those off too. My backpack slumped to the floor off my shoulders.

       "Maeve, I need help in the kitchen!"

      "Yes, mamaí!" I dropped my backpack and jogged to the kitchen, my feet slapping on the floor.

       "Could you get the cooling rack out?"

        I squeezed around her and knelt down to the bottom drawer, pulling out two cooling racks. The kitchen was warm and cozy, it smelled kind of like gingerbread and cinnamon. The house was quiet. Really quiet.

       "Shea's at the studio again?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

      "She's been working very hard with Cecilia to choreograph the group routine as quickly as possible."

       "Oh, I forgot about that."

      Mother gave me a sideways look then kept rolling dough in her hands.

      "Did you go to work today?"

      This wasn't normal. Her body was turned away from me, she hadn't smiled at all. She was definitely still upset with me, but she was doing her best not to voice it, at least outright.

      "Not today, I decided to stay home."

      "Oh. Why?"

     It seemed like an innocent enough thing to ask, but it resulted in another sideways glance.

     "I just needed a break. It's been stressful lately."

     "Oh..." The legs of the cooling racks were propped up on the counter... where was my laptop? We had left it here this morning. "I'm the source for the stress, right?"

      "Maeve,"

      "I definitely am, you don't have to awkwardly pretend I'm not."

       "Don't be so self-absorbed, you aren't my only problem." Her tone was snide and sharp. It hurt a little bit.

       "Sorry," I held my hands up and started to walk back around the counter. "Have you seen my laptop?"

       "Oh yes, your father and I agreed that you do too many things unsupervised, so we'll just hold onto it for a while until you can be responsible."

       I stopped in my tracks, turning around slowly. "You what?"

       "You heard me, you're not getting it back until you prove yourself to be responsible."

       That's it.

      "What's your problem?"

      Her eyes widened in shock. "Excuse me?"

     "Don't 'excuse me' me! Are you for real? Are you serious? I'm seventeen, I am almost an adult, and regardless if I had gotten into the Garrison I would have been out of the house within a year! I'm already responsible for myself, it's expected of me to be, so don't come in here with the reasoning that I'm irresponsible!"

       "How can I think anything else when you decide to just leave on a whim!?"

      "It's not a whim, Mom! I've wanted to go to the Garrison for years! I literally," I scoffed, "I literally have a poster in my room with the school logo. On a whim, my ass! The only reason I decided to go now is because of you!"