Carly’s parents aren’t happy. In fact, they are absolutely livid. Her mother’s face turns a scary shade of red and her father stares down with a menacing look of disapproval. Last night’s excursion has not been overlooked, and with the way her mother’s hands are planted on her hips, Carly knows that there is a negative five out of positive ten chance of wriggling away free of punishment.
When her mother is mad, she splutters at high volumes, using dramatic arm movements. Her body shakes with hot rage, and she practically howls at Carly. Carly, without a doubt, would rather take on the furball monster than her mother at this moment. Her father on the other hand stands level-headed, and his arms are firmly crossed across his chest. His speech is too calm, his voice a little deeper than normal, and this false diplomacy causes Carly to squirm from foot to foot.
Ten minutes earlier she had been a bleary-eyed mess, bumbling around her room like an idiot. She had only gotten a miserable four hours of sleep last night, and her brain was hardly functioning properly.
Why are you so tired? they asked. If she had been just a bit more awake, she would have had the sense to lie, but her mind felt like it had been sliced up in a blender. In a moment of pure idiocy, she had told the truth. And that was the beginning of her demise.
Clearly, her escapade to New York was not the reason her parents wanted to hear. What they wanted to hear was that she had a fitful night’s sleep. As her mom yells an undecipherable slew of consonants and vowels, Carly facepalms herself internally. She should have just said that she couldn’t fall asleep, and it wouldn’t have been a lie.
She’s still cursing her stupidity when her father pipes in, “Young lady, are you listening to your mother?”
Carly decides that she hates being called ‘young lady.’ Young she could deal with, but lady? The thought of being some dainty, 1900’s woman, was disgusting. All soft, and fragile, and in constant distress. Though at the moment, with her mother’s red face and the plastic calm on her father’s, all three descriptors seem to match up with Carly’s current mental state. But to prove her resolve and stubbornness, she sniffs up her tears before they can fall from her eyes. She is still in her pajamas and it is much too early to have a complete emotional breakdown. She hasn’t even had breakfast yet. The crying would have to wait, at least long enough that she can slide back into the safety of her room out of her parents’ view. Only then would she allow herself the luxury of crying silently into her blankets. Pride is such a destructive concept.
“Of course I’m listening.” She lifts her chin to make up for the wavering of her voice. “I’m just not agreeing.”
Carly’s mother takes a step forward, and despite Carly’s mindset, she returns by taking a step backwards. The anger rolling off her mother is a bit too strong to handle, reminiscent of her superhero days.
“You snuck out of the house!” Carly winces. “Went off to New York City in full view of people!”
“Which is the largest and probably most dangerous cities in the world in the human sense as well as the monster sense,” her father adds. Carly shrinks away now.
“And you got in a fight! I almost wish you had gotten hurt so you would have learned your lesson!”
Luckily, Carly has left out the small detail about Dynamo. She’s grateful that some form of rational thought had entered into her mind during her confession, because the mention of a boy would only send her parents into a greater tizzy.
Her parents are wrong though, the pain had not taught her a lesson. It had only opened her eyes to the capabilities of heroes and heroines, of some world that her parents tried desperately attempted to hide from her. It is intoxicating, and the pain is only a temporary sacrifice. She will not be so easily broken, not when there is so much to do and so many to save. The age-old rebellion between teen and parents begins, and Carly’s mother and father can only think the division is beginning too early. Carly, with the taste of freedom on her lips and the power of blue energy still blushing in her fingertips, thinks that the rebellion has begun too late. How many years had she missed out on because of her parents’ sheltering?
YOU ARE READING
kent
Action[#83 Action] (nanowrimo 2014) Just outside New York City, there is a high school senior with the misfortune of being named after Superman himself. Clark Kent's parents are geeks. His brother is a geek. He is a geek, too. However, opposites don't att...
