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rainbowfic2012-01-26 01:48 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2012-01-26 01:48 pm
Entry tags:
Black #15, Tea Rose #28
Name: kay_brooke
Story: Unusual Florida
Colors: Black #15 (blackballed), Tea Rose #28 (What is right to be done cannot be done too soon)
Word Count: 1,455
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; No warnings
Summary: The perils of leaving for vacation.
Notes: Takes place in 1996. Follows on from this.
Three days before they were set to leave, Hope's mother prodded them all to start packing. Sherri, of course, finished immediately, her two small, pink suitcases carefully lined up next to her bedroom door. Charlie hemmed and hawed, complained, and tried to find some way to convince his parents to let him stay with a friend, but in the end he, too, had thrown the clothes he needed into his blue duffle bag by the time his mother came around to inspect their luggage.
Hope had not packed a thing.
She wasn’t trying to disobey her mother, but somehow time got away from her. It was summer vacation and she wasn’t really doing anything. She wasn’t in any community activities, she was too young for a job, and her friends . . . well, that didn’t really bear thinking about. Her friends were unavailable, anyway. But she read a lot, and took long bike rides out into the country, and played games on the family computer before bedtime. And the hours slipped away.
She was changing the batteries in her portable CD player when her mother appeared at the door and demanded to see her luggage.
“My luggage?” Hope asked, taken by surprise.
“Yes, your luggage. I told you to pack three days ago.”
“Oh, that,” said Hope. “I’ll get it done.”
“You haven’t started?”
The question was deceptively quiet, but Hope knew her mother. She turned, noticing for the first time that her mother was livid. Her gray eyes were full of anger, her lips pinched so tight they were hardly visible. Hope took an involuntary step back. “I’ll do it now,” she said quickly. “I’m doing it right now, see?” She opened one of her dresser drawers.
“But I told you to do it three days ago,” said her mother. “Sherri got it done. Charlie got it done. Why haven’t you?”
“I’m doing it now,” Hope insisted. She threw a couple shirts onto her bed and made a move for her closet, where her suitcase was stored.
“No,” snapped her mother. “I’ll do it, since you obviously can’t do it for yourself.”
“No!” said Hope. “I’m doing it now! Look, I’ll do it, please, Mom, please, let me do it!” Tears welled up in her eyes as her mother stormed around her room, opening drawers and muttering.
“You’re fifteen years old, Hope,” she lectured loudly. “And I still have to pack for you. I don’t know what you’re going to do when you move out and have to behave like an actual adult.”
“Mom!” wailed Hope. “Please!”
“All you’ve done since you got out of school is laze around the house and expect me to do everything for you. You don’t ever give a thought to other people, you’re ungrateful . . .”
“I’m not, Mom, I’m not!” said Hope. “I’ll do it! Please, just . . . don’t do this!”
Her mother stopped rooting around in Hope’s closet and looked at her. “You’ll do it? When? It’s nearly midnight, and we have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Why? We can leave any time.”
“We're leaving at eight. Your father's plane is at ten and we have to get him to the airport.”
Hope froze. “Why are we taking Dad to the airport?”
Her mother slammed Hope’s suitcase on the bed. Her words came clipped and fast. “Your father isn’t coming with us. He says he has to go to New Jersey.”
“What?” cried Hope.
“Don’t ask me,” said her mother. “Months of planning and now he wants to bail and leave me all alone with the three of you, driving all the way across the country by myself.”
“Why does Dad need to go now? Can’t he talk to the people at his company? Ask them to postpone for a couple weeks at least?”
“I don’t know,” said her mother. “Maybe because he’s not taking the trip for his company.”
“What does that mean?”
Her mother turned to her suddenly. “Nothing,” she said. “Finish packing. We’ve got to go to Lincoln in the morning, and I want you all ready to go by eight. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” said Hope. She watched her mother leave and sat down on her bed, fingering an old pair of shorts that had been strewn across it. Her father’s timing couldn’t have been worse. They had been planning the trip for months, so how could he let his boss get away with sending him all the way across the country? Unless her father had planned it this way, to get out of the trip . . .
No. He had been too adamant about the whole family going and spending time together. The idea that he had been lying the whole time was ridiculous. Hope lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts whirling.
She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she heard the pounding on her bedroom door. At first she couldn’t distinguish it from her dream, in which several of her classmates from the previous year were taunting her because her parents were getting divorced, her family was falling apart.
“Hope!” shouted a voice from outside her dream.
She sat up, startled, and was horrified to see that it was daylight. She was still dressed from the night before, and her clothes were still scattered across her room. She fumbled for her watch, which was usually on her bedside table, but her hands ran across nothing.
“Hope!” came the voice again. It was Charlie. And, almost like he’d read her mind, he yelled, “It’s nearly eight! Sherri’s crying, Dad’s ticked, and Mom’s furious with everyone! Get your stuff down here!”
He wasn’t giving her much incentive to move from her bed. She looked around, panicking, and started throwing the rest of her clothes into the suitcase. What else did she need? Hairbrush and hair ties. Toothbrush. Lots and lots of reading material and her CD player. She threw item after item into her suitcase, not caring that it was completely disorganized. She grabbed her small makeup case even though she rarely wore makeup, and tossed it in with all the rest. Charlie had stopped pounding on her door.
She hastily pulled her hair into a ponytail, not bothering to brush it. She pulled her sandals on and, five minutes after being awakened by her brother, opened her bedroom door and strode down the stairs into the living room, lugging her bulging suitcase.
Charlie was waiting at the foot of the stairs. His eyes popped at the suitcase. “What have you got in there?”
“It’s not as much as it looks,” said Hope. “It’s just . . . not very organized. Where’s Mom?”
“About to leave without us,” said Charlie. “She was so mad earlier. Be thankful you missed breakfast.”
“It won’t matter,” said Hope, following Charlie out to the garage, where her mother, upon seeing them, reached over Hope’s father in the driver’s seat and blasted the horn. “She’s going to chew me out, anyway."
#
The drive was silent, except for Hope’s mother’s occasional rantings against her wayward elder daughter. Hope sat in the backseat on the passenger side, so that her mother could periodically turn her attention from the road and yell at her some more. She didn’t listen to what was being said. She’d heard it a million times. Let her mother rant and rave. Nothing new there.
They reached the airport only a few minutes before her father's plane was scheduled to leave. He got out of the car and leaned through the window. “You guys take care,” he said in a falsely cheerful tone.“Remember, I’ll be down to join you in a couple weeks or so. Have fun.”
"You're going to miss your flight," Hope's mother snapped at him.
Hope waved at her father to show him that not everyone in the family hated him. She knew her parents hadn’t gotten along in several months, pretty much since her father had announced his company was forcing him to transfer all the way across the country. She worried at night sometimes if her parents would get a divorce. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Charlie poked her.
"Do you want the front?"
"Are you an idiot?"
Charlie gave her a "point taken" shrug and hopped out of the car, sliding into the front seat. Sherri, smashed in the middle between her two older siblings, sighed in relief and moved over. Hope fumbled around in her book bag, pulled out her CD player, and put on her headphones. Leaning back and closing her eyes as the music came on, she felt the car shift into gear as her mother pulled away from the airport terminal.
kay_brookeStory: Unusual Florida
Colors: Black #15 (blackballed), Tea Rose #28 (What is right to be done cannot be done too soon)
Word Count: 1,455
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; No warnings
Summary: The perils of leaving for vacation.
Notes: Takes place in 1996. Follows on from this.
Three days before they were set to leave, Hope's mother prodded them all to start packing. Sherri, of course, finished immediately, her two small, pink suitcases carefully lined up next to her bedroom door. Charlie hemmed and hawed, complained, and tried to find some way to convince his parents to let him stay with a friend, but in the end he, too, had thrown the clothes he needed into his blue duffle bag by the time his mother came around to inspect their luggage.
Hope had not packed a thing.
She wasn’t trying to disobey her mother, but somehow time got away from her. It was summer vacation and she wasn’t really doing anything. She wasn’t in any community activities, she was too young for a job, and her friends . . . well, that didn’t really bear thinking about. Her friends were unavailable, anyway. But she read a lot, and took long bike rides out into the country, and played games on the family computer before bedtime. And the hours slipped away.
She was changing the batteries in her portable CD player when her mother appeared at the door and demanded to see her luggage.
“My luggage?” Hope asked, taken by surprise.
“Yes, your luggage. I told you to pack three days ago.”
“Oh, that,” said Hope. “I’ll get it done.”
“You haven’t started?”
The question was deceptively quiet, but Hope knew her mother. She turned, noticing for the first time that her mother was livid. Her gray eyes were full of anger, her lips pinched so tight they were hardly visible. Hope took an involuntary step back. “I’ll do it now,” she said quickly. “I’m doing it right now, see?” She opened one of her dresser drawers.
“But I told you to do it three days ago,” said her mother. “Sherri got it done. Charlie got it done. Why haven’t you?”
“I’m doing it now,” Hope insisted. She threw a couple shirts onto her bed and made a move for her closet, where her suitcase was stored.
“No,” snapped her mother. “I’ll do it, since you obviously can’t do it for yourself.”
“No!” said Hope. “I’m doing it now! Look, I’ll do it, please, Mom, please, let me do it!” Tears welled up in her eyes as her mother stormed around her room, opening drawers and muttering.
“You’re fifteen years old, Hope,” she lectured loudly. “And I still have to pack for you. I don’t know what you’re going to do when you move out and have to behave like an actual adult.”
“Mom!” wailed Hope. “Please!”
“All you’ve done since you got out of school is laze around the house and expect me to do everything for you. You don’t ever give a thought to other people, you’re ungrateful . . .”
“I’m not, Mom, I’m not!” said Hope. “I’ll do it! Please, just . . . don’t do this!”
Her mother stopped rooting around in Hope’s closet and looked at her. “You’ll do it? When? It’s nearly midnight, and we have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Why? We can leave any time.”
“We're leaving at eight. Your father's plane is at ten and we have to get him to the airport.”
Hope froze. “Why are we taking Dad to the airport?”
Her mother slammed Hope’s suitcase on the bed. Her words came clipped and fast. “Your father isn’t coming with us. He says he has to go to New Jersey.”
“What?” cried Hope.
“Don’t ask me,” said her mother. “Months of planning and now he wants to bail and leave me all alone with the three of you, driving all the way across the country by myself.”
“Why does Dad need to go now? Can’t he talk to the people at his company? Ask them to postpone for a couple weeks at least?”
“I don’t know,” said her mother. “Maybe because he’s not taking the trip for his company.”
“What does that mean?”
Her mother turned to her suddenly. “Nothing,” she said. “Finish packing. We’ve got to go to Lincoln in the morning, and I want you all ready to go by eight. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” said Hope. She watched her mother leave and sat down on her bed, fingering an old pair of shorts that had been strewn across it. Her father’s timing couldn’t have been worse. They had been planning the trip for months, so how could he let his boss get away with sending him all the way across the country? Unless her father had planned it this way, to get out of the trip . . .
No. He had been too adamant about the whole family going and spending time together. The idea that he had been lying the whole time was ridiculous. Hope lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts whirling.
She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she heard the pounding on her bedroom door. At first she couldn’t distinguish it from her dream, in which several of her classmates from the previous year were taunting her because her parents were getting divorced, her family was falling apart.
“Hope!” shouted a voice from outside her dream.
She sat up, startled, and was horrified to see that it was daylight. She was still dressed from the night before, and her clothes were still scattered across her room. She fumbled for her watch, which was usually on her bedside table, but her hands ran across nothing.
“Hope!” came the voice again. It was Charlie. And, almost like he’d read her mind, he yelled, “It’s nearly eight! Sherri’s crying, Dad’s ticked, and Mom’s furious with everyone! Get your stuff down here!”
He wasn’t giving her much incentive to move from her bed. She looked around, panicking, and started throwing the rest of her clothes into the suitcase. What else did she need? Hairbrush and hair ties. Toothbrush. Lots and lots of reading material and her CD player. She threw item after item into her suitcase, not caring that it was completely disorganized. She grabbed her small makeup case even though she rarely wore makeup, and tossed it in with all the rest. Charlie had stopped pounding on her door.
She hastily pulled her hair into a ponytail, not bothering to brush it. She pulled her sandals on and, five minutes after being awakened by her brother, opened her bedroom door and strode down the stairs into the living room, lugging her bulging suitcase.
Charlie was waiting at the foot of the stairs. His eyes popped at the suitcase. “What have you got in there?”
“It’s not as much as it looks,” said Hope. “It’s just . . . not very organized. Where’s Mom?”
“About to leave without us,” said Charlie. “She was so mad earlier. Be thankful you missed breakfast.”
“It won’t matter,” said Hope, following Charlie out to the garage, where her mother, upon seeing them, reached over Hope’s father in the driver’s seat and blasted the horn. “She’s going to chew me out, anyway."
#
The drive was silent, except for Hope’s mother’s occasional rantings against her wayward elder daughter. Hope sat in the backseat on the passenger side, so that her mother could periodically turn her attention from the road and yell at her some more. She didn’t listen to what was being said. She’d heard it a million times. Let her mother rant and rave. Nothing new there.
They reached the airport only a few minutes before her father's plane was scheduled to leave. He got out of the car and leaned through the window. “You guys take care,” he said in a falsely cheerful tone.“Remember, I’ll be down to join you in a couple weeks or so. Have fun.”
"You're going to miss your flight," Hope's mother snapped at him.
Hope waved at her father to show him that not everyone in the family hated him. She knew her parents hadn’t gotten along in several months, pretty much since her father had announced his company was forcing him to transfer all the way across the country. She worried at night sometimes if her parents would get a divorce. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Charlie poked her.
"Do you want the front?"
"Are you an idiot?"
Charlie gave her a "point taken" shrug and hopped out of the car, sliding into the front seat. Sherri, smashed in the middle between her two older siblings, sighed in relief and moved over. Hope fumbled around in her book bag, pulled out her CD player, and put on her headphones. Leaning back and closing her eyes as the music came on, she felt the car shift into gear as her mother pulled away from the airport terminal.
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OK, maybe not, but the more I read about this family, the more I like Hope and her dad (despite his frequent absences) and the more I wonder what Hope's mom's problem is (which is not to say she's a bad character, since I have friends with moms EXACTLY LIKE THIS). Is it the problems between the parents that's causing her to lash out at Hope so much?
Still on team Hope. Terrific job.
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Thanks for reading!
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Thanks for reading!
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Great job, though; I was shaking along with Hope through most of this. Poor kid.
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The kids all do get out of it, mostly, though they remain estranged from their parents for a long time (maybe forever; I haven't decided yet if there's a reconciliation at some point).
Thanks for reading!
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Well, judging from the other comments, this would be the reaction you were going for and ho boy did you get it. That takes talent.
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Thank you for reading!
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My mom was nowhere near as frightful as Hope's mom is, but some of this was definitely gathered from actual experiences when I was a teenager.