Finding Her Voice

Chapter 2 I'm In Trouble and Look Who's Here

"What the hell?" My dad was the first to speak. His mouth was agape for all the flies to crawl into it and have a party. He has a black scruffy beard complete with a mustache. He was the complete package, as you could see. He had brown eyes, with pink, thin lips. Dad had an olive tone, grey hairs here and there on top of his dark brown hair, despite the fact that he so desperately tried to hide the fact that he was indeed getting old.

"Lila," Mom starts to speak in a very calm, scary manner. "Please tell me that grapes had somehow exploded on your hair and that you did not dye your beautifully, natural hair." My mom spoke through clenched teeth as her facial expression began to tense up the more her words formed into a sentence. She was trying to keep calm, but I could tell that with every word she'd spoken it had gotten louder than the last. Her patience was beginning to thin. It was hardly noticeable, but not impossible. She was like a bomb and could explode at any moment. So, take cover and protect your ears if you can!

If you're wondering, my mom has platinum blonde hair, green eyes that resemble mine, a fair complexion, plump, pink lips and a slight point to her nose. She's all professional in her purple and black pantsuit. She is even wearing black high heels, which my mom hates to wear with a burning passion inside her. She just doesn't like high heels. Her reasoning for why she doesn't like them is because they are just not at all comfy. Her words, not mine. She still insists on being miserable all day by wearing the shoes she loathes and despises because they make her look 'semi-professional', apparently. Meanwhile, my dad is dressed in an ocean blue button down shirt, with a fancy black blazer and black pants to match. Also, black leather shoes. If my dad does not want to wear something, though: he won't. It doesn't matter what occasion it is. He is just way too stubborn to succumb to any type of fashion he doesn't want to wear all because it is claimed 'appropriate' for the occasion.

My dad sucked in a breath of air making me realize what my mom had said. It wasn't a question, but it might as well have been because she expected an answer either way. "I dyed it," I replied, hesitantly. My shoulders are beginning to sag beneath me. I say the words as if they are foreign and I do not understand what they mean. "I knew you wouldn't like it, so I did it behind your back. It saves us a lot of arguing if you think about it because we both know you would eventually cave in, anyway. So you should probably be thanking me now." Did I mention that when I get nervous, along with babbling on and on about nothing, I also tend to sass a lot? When I get nervous it is almost like my mouth and my mind are not attached to the same body. In these kinds of situations, my lips tend to take over for me and I have no control over what happens.

The good thing about this situation is that my dad is only pretending to care for my mom's sake right now because if he did care, I might lose my nerve. He is the real scary one when he gets angry. The great thing about him, though, is that he rarely ever gets angry. I think that's his secret weapon because he knows that we aren't used to his anger. So, it's like a rare surprise. But, not at all pleasant. It's kind of like when your teacher surprises you for a pop quiz about a topic you forgot all about ever learning.

"Okay, that sounds like a reasonable explanation to me. I think I can stop pretending to care for your mother's sake, now." He says to me, knowing all too well that mom is staring daggers into the back of his head. He casually shakes it off and walks into the kitchen seeing the pizza box on the table. "Ooh, pizza!" Oh, Dad. You're in trouble! I think to myself, slightly shaking my head.

"You are such a child, Kreg." My mom says, annoyed as she rolls her eyes. Then, she looks at me and she looks like she's about to blow. "And you are the exact opposite!" She raises her voice, pointing an accusing finger my way. "You are the one good child." Okay, that's a little dramatic! None of us may be saints, but she is talking like Angus and Kevin go out and kill people and I recently decided to join them on their killing hiatus.

"You're the one in which I would least expect to violate my rules, let alone dare to talk back to your mother! The one who had given birth to you, might I add!" She huffed and she puffed, but thankfully she did not blow the house down.

I do kind of feel bad, though. I should at least have asked her if I could dye my hair, but it was kind of a last minute decision. I just didn't think, which is kind of surprising because I usually think till I grow blue. I tend to overthink than underthink, but I guess there is a first time for everything. I'm kind of scared for when she sees my room, then she'll really punish me.

I did not expect the next sentence to come out of her mouth. "You're grounded." She said it so bluntly, moving over to the table to eat some pizza with my pig of a dad. She never punished me before. I guess she never really had a reason to because up until now, I've been a perfectly well-behaved girl. Now, the first time I acted out, she punishes me for it. I mean, does she not want me to live? I am a teenager. I was going to do something without her permission sometime in my life. She had to know that!

"You can't use your electronics unless it's your phone. You can only go out on weekends and to attend school. You are grounded for a week." She said, not looking at me. My mom had hated punishing any of her kids, plus she'd never really punished me before. So, she wasn't used to this. It was always Angus or Kevin, but never me. I rarely gave her trouble. I was her good little kid who (for the most part) had managed to stay out of trouble, but then again, this wasn't really a punishment. I was expecting something a bit bigger. But, I guess she realized what I was thinking in my head. What I did wasn't all that bad. Plus, I usually don't do anything bad, anyway. So, she decided to give me a break, but I knew that once she had seen my room, I wasn't going to be let off the hook that easily. So, I was just going to enjoy my freedom now while it lasted.

"That sounds fair," I say with a wide grin on my face. I walk up the stairs as I hear my mom murmur under her breath the faint words: "These kids are going to be the death of me." If only you knew, mom. I think, slamming my door.

A few hours later, my parents were both fast asleep, as it is already eleven o'clock and tomorrow is Monday. School night for me and a work night for them. So is my little brother, since his bedtime is at nine thirty. And I'm supposed to be fast asleep by now too, but someone keeps knocking on the door, furiously, preventing me from my beauty sleep. I wish that my family weren't such deep sleepers. I was the only light sleeper in our family, so it was always my responsibility to let Kevin in the house when he was out late at night, which was often enough for my parents to make it my responsibility. It wouldn't have to be my responsibility if the guy just remembered to bring his key, but most of the time he didn't remember. So as a result, most of the time I had to let him into the house.

It was times like these in which I had absolutely, without question, decided on hating my older brother because he always insists on disrupting my beauty sleep.

I eventually convinced myself to get out of my cozy, warm bed as my skin met the cold air. I shivered as I felt defeated, knowing my brother just wouldn't go away. He had to knock on the door in the middle of the night, resulting in waking me up and me losing sleep for the next morning. Unlike him, I needed a lot of hours to sleep. He didn't. But, just because he didn't, he always assumed that everyone operated like him and could be ready for the day with only slept for three hours.

I put my grey fuzzy slippers on and headed to the door. I opened it almost immediately after climbing all those stairs that I just could not climb down fast enough. "Why do you always forget your spare key?" I ask, groggily expecting my eyes to be met with Kevin, but instead my eyes are met with someone else. Ew, I hate my best friend's brother.

"What do you want?" I glared down at the devil's reincarnation, once I registered that it's Carter and not Kevin.