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SUMMER took a deep breath as she stood calmly in the center of her room. The sun was shining warm outside the window, the sky blue. A faint breeze ruffled the treetops, and Summer felt free.
She walked over to her bedroom door and grabbed Jesse's (washed) baseball jersey from where it had been hanging. She pulled it on, throwing her tumbling red waves over one shoulder.
She hurried downstairs, taking care to tiptoe as so to not bring her mother out from her room. Her mother yelling at her was the last thing Summer needed.
Unfortunately, it was what she was getting. As Summer walked quickly through the living room, she heard a voice.
"And where are you going?"
Sandra emerged from the shadows, where she had been leaning against the dining table. The table in question was covered in a thick layer of dust. It hadn't been eaten on in months. Summer always ate curled up on the couch, alone.
"Why do you suddenly care?" Summer shot back, almost surprised at her boldness. But she felt braver, today. Maybe it was because of what had happened in the sewers. Maybe it was because It was gone.
"Don't use that tone with me," Sandra hissed. "After all you've done."
Summer took a step closer to her mother. She was as tall as the red-haired woman now, and she felt twice as fearsome as Sandra had ever seemed to her. "What have I done, Mom?" It wasn't pleading. Her voice was cold as ice. Summer wasn't scared anymore. She was angry.
"You know what you did," Sandra retorted. It was the same routine.
Summer didn't exactly know why she was suddenly unafraid. But maybe her bravery hadn't just appeared. Maybe it had been unlocked from behind a door she hadn't been able to open before. So she let loose.
"It's not my fault!" Summer screamed. "It's not my fault that Dad left! And it's not yours either!"
Sandra looked shocked. Summer stood there, hands curled into fists.
"Dad left because he's a piece of shit, Mom! You know it and I know it! At least I have the ability to move on!"
Sandra blinked. Summer felt a fire burning in her chest. After the evil she had defeated in the sewers, she felt like she could finally fight this battle.
"You're the mom! Not me! I'm thirteen hey, mom! I feed myself on shitty tv dinners! I take your wallet and do the grocery shopping! I wash the dishes! I put myself to bed! I make my own breakfasts and lunches and dinners! You didn't even read my last report card! I got straight As! I've done everything around here since he left, and I'm a frigging child! You're the goddamn adult. Act like it!"
