The Light You Give

2.

"Lacey Cascade-Anne Carter. What in god's name were you thinking." My mother yells as I walk into the Nixon's kitchen. 

"I'm sorry," I say bowing my head slightly. My shoes suddenly became my favourite thing to look at.

"Seth Tate Nixon. You are kidding me right?" Seth's Mom, Trina, says as Seth walks in behind me. Seth's worried glance meets my own as we give each other a nod. Almost as good luck.

Bea tugs open the fridge and pull out the orange juice, pouring herself a large glass before making her way to where the fathers have sat along with my younger sister Molly. Watching the lecture, ready to jump in at any moment if things get out of hand.

"You should know better. I did not raise, a smartass, disrespectful brat. Did I?" My mom yells her face red, spit practically flying out of her mouth.

Overreacting much.

"No mom," I reply quietly ignoring the slurs of angry words and blame threatening to pour out of my mouth.

No smart-ass comments.

No smart-ass comments.

"Well, then why would you do that. To poor Mr Ford. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for me to be rung up and told my daughter has been disrespectful and might be wasting everything you have worked so hard for." My mom snapped angrily. Ok, that was an exaggeration.

"Well, you know how much I love embarrassing you," I say sarcastically. Before immediately freezing. I said no smartass comments you dumbass.

"Are you talking back to me young lady?" My mom asks, her voice full of malice.

"That's how a conversation works mom," I say grabbing my drink bottle and squirting some water into my mouth to stay hydrated. Arguing was getting heated. 

I hear chuckles from around the room, including Seth's before his mom throw's him a deathly glare and his face changes before you can say 'grounded'.

"You know what. I can't deal with you right now. You're grounded. Give me your phone." She says holding out her hand expectingly.

"Mom no," I say giving her a pleading glance. This is so extreme. For literally what.

"I'm sorry are you the adult here? Give me your phone." She says sternly waiting for me to hand it over.

I mutter a string of words to my mother, pulling my cellphone out of my bag and handing it to her. Her eyes bulge at my sentence before she narrows her eyes.

Almost as if to say 'watch your mouth'.

"Mom," I say almost pleadingly.

"Watch it." She says warningly holding her hand out, waiting for my phone.

"Geez. After everything, I explained to you." I mutter only for her ears, my voice cracking as I slap my phone into her outstretched hand.

I spin on my heel before I let everyone see the tears threatening to take over my face and storm out of the house. My legs carry me further and further away from the house. Along the bustling walkway.

I run and run and run. Even though I ran for the whole of practice. I have new energy. One of frustration, emptiness, rage. One that I'm way too familiar with.

I find myself slowing down as I near 'my spot'.

My spot is down a walkway, down a hill and in an abandoned bay, where the ocean crashes onto the golden sand, where the comforting curves earth caress, wrapping you up in your own bubble. A place where a carpark always lies empty and broken.