Generation Why Bother

The story we ended up telling our neighbors was that we were having a bonfire and one of our friends fell in and then threw a flaming branch at me, when my dad jumped in to save the day. Then for some reason, a pop-punk band showed up and got angry at Shira for doing such a thing. We settled on the reason being that Anthony was my cousin and was driving around the neighborhood with his band when he heard the ruckus. (As racist as it probably was, Anthony was chosen to be my cousin because…well…we’re both Hispanic.) Also, the dialogue was in reference to a video game they were roleplaying from. And my dad pushed me into an outdoor electrical socket that I accidentally licked, causing all the sparks and the power surge.

It’s a dumb story. But it’s what the band told me to tell my neighbors after that night, and they were all so freaked out by it that they just thought anything that weird had to be true.

It sure as hell didn’t end with the band crashing my yard with the same element of surprise as Shira. Tensions were high and continued to flare up, snapping me out of my need to sleep as well as my elemental-discovery trance.

“I wasn’t going to kill him! Just…maybe tweak him a little bit,” Shira explained, her voice getting quieter.

“You still injured his dad!” Mick said angrily, just as out-of-character as my yelling at Shira.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Andy shouted, speaking the question that was on everybody’s minds.

The alien girl exhaled in a huff. I guess she had enough of sitting back and defending herself in a more laid-back way, and for that, she adopted a more serious tone of voice. “You mustn’t forget that I’m not one of you humans. I’m not aware of the emotions going through your foreign heads, and for that I apologize. Still, my father, who I must remind you is the king of planet Daltia, has sent me here with good reason – to aid you in the struggle of organizing yourselves into a true guardian force.”

Andy stepped forward, squinting at her with a wicked mean face. “Uh huh, yeah, you and your little space-stoner lingo.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and cracked a smirk. “You’re coming back with us to our apartment. You’ve got some explaining to do, you little brat.”

Shira had no fear, but when she stood up straight to look intimidating, she fell flat, unbeknownst to her. She couldn’t have been more than an inch taller than Tegan, and Tegan was already a head shorter than Andy.

“Try me, you chinstrapped cartoon,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I’ll get my father on the line. He’s been trying to contact you with no avail, which is why he directly sent me here.”

Anthony crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “You can explain at the flat, kid.”

She pouted and growled, “I’m fairly certain I’m of legal age on your planet. I’m nineteen Earth-years old and that no longer makes me a ‘kid,’ does it not?”

He wasn’t having any of it and continued to back up the band’s case. “Yeah, well, you’re still a kid who injured the parent of one of our team members, and that just can’t fly.”

The most intense staring match I’d ever witness had begun right in front of us. Me, Tegan, Ms. Tracey and my dad were sitting on concrete and just watching Shira stare down the entire band, so much hateful energy in such a tiny out-of-this-world being. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a spoon.

Suddenly, though, my dad sat up and jumped at attention, and then he stood on wobbly knees, clutching at the tender skin at his side with an, “Oh!” None of us really knew why he did it at first, but as he limped over to the band, I had an inkling that ended up being right.

He tapped Andy’s shoulder, who was standing closest to him, and he said, “Excuse me, but I don’t believe we have actually officially met beyond that little incident in the hospital. I’m Oshie’s father, Joshua.” It was like he didn’t even realize the weirdness of the situation at hand and just saw it as an opportunity to jump in and do his thing…then again, it’s not like the band minded. Andy shook his non-bloody hand and so did the rest of them, smiling and introducing themselves like it was a meet-and-greet.

Ms. Tracey stood up and did the same, amicably meeting Put’meup, Put’emup like it was the most normal thing in the universe. Like I said a while back, there’s a normal way to meet a band, and then there’s the Put’emup, Put’emup way – completely coincidental and in a way, life-threatening.

Everybody counted out Shira while Ms. Tracey and my dad were busy meeting the dudes who took us away from home so often, except for Tegan and I, who were exchanging perplexed expressions every few seconds and glancing at the alien girl.

Shira couldn’t go very long without the attention being on her again, though. She snapped her gloved fingers and spoke, “Okay, let’s get straight to the point here, or else I’m gonna set fire to this entire neighborhood.”

If there was a secret list of ways to piss off the band, she must’ve had it memorized, because they were all in such a foul mood when they dragged her off in Chance’s truck. I guess interfering with sleep as well as being an intergalactic brat bent on injuring the good guys “with a reason” were just a few of the top ways – then again, that was on all of our lists.

~~~~~~

Apparently, Shira didn’t understand Earth money. We figured that one out later on when the band asked her to pay for the damages done to our backyards and fences; she didn’t understand what they were going on about, and eventually they gave up and just agreed to pay for the expenses. They had a little bit of cash to spare, and it wasn’t as big a deal as it could have been, which was pretty good.

On top of that, keeping her out of the spotlight about the whole property-damage thing was a step taken to stifle any thoughts that she wasn’t from our planet. Given her pointed ears and the forked tongue that surfaced when she spoke, she could’ve just passed for someone who was into body modifications. Even so, it was best to be safe.

We couldn’t go immediately back to sleep after that ordeal, though. My dad and I had wounds that needed tending, and nobody other than Ms. Tracey was eager to help us out in that regard. She helped my dad into our house, and Tegan and I followed behind, my elbow throbbing and my hip nice and bruised.

I stood over the sink and washed out my own nasty scrape as my dad sat on the counter, while Ms. Tracey disinfected his wounds with a paper towel soaked in whatever was in our never-used first aid kit. If I was wincing just touching my elbow, then I could only imagine the screams my dad must have been holding in.

After I licked my wounds, I turned around and saw my dad gripping the counter and groaning in pain, while Ms. Tracey happily cleaned him up. Tegan was standing next to her mom and smiling, and when we made eye contact, she winked at me.

My dad briefly opened his eyes and caught us staring at them, and the pained expression on his aging face was replaced by a more threatening one. “What are you looking at, huh?” he grunted.

“This picture-perfect romance movie scene,” Tegan stated bluntly, hiding her grin.

My dad rolled his eyes way up into his head, but Ms. Tracey hooted a big laugh, patting his shoulder as she put the final piece of tape onto his bare skin to hide the scrapes. She helped him off the counter and gave him a little side-hug, which certainly didn’t help my dad’s case.

“You’re gonna want to not sleep on your side tonight, Joshua,” she pointed out the obvious.

My dad rubbed the back of his neck, standing stiffly. “I know.”

She smiled back at him, curling her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner, okay?”

The noises that Tegan and I made just weren’t human. Amongst our squeals, my dad glared at us, his face a deep crimson. Past that five-o-clock shadow that adorned his jaw, I saw him smile right back at Tegan’s mom. “Okay,” I heard him say quietly.

“My papá is a player,” I winked at Tegan, bumping her hip with mine.

“I never doubted that,” she snickered.