Sequel: Earth to Me ›
Generation Why Bother
Moving On
There was no time to waste with Chuck and Riley. That afternoon, they were sent home in Put’emup, Put’emup’s private jet along with the one member who was decided to be in the calmest state of mind and the most personable: Mick. Andy would’ve done it, but he was still shaking like crazy from almost being killed by Anthony. Chance couldn’t articulate the situation. Anthony was still beating himself up over everything and kept throwing ignored apologies to the dude he’d almost fried. Mick walked in half-asleep to the scene and probably didn’t realize what was going on until later.
It was a group consensus. Mick would be sent with Chuck and Riley back to Gainesville to explain everything to their parents and why they missed school that day. With his positive demeanor and collected nature, he was a shoe-in to win over our last two guardians completely.
Mick was back in Chicago by midnight, and when I woke up the next morning and checked my Facenook, Mick had a pretty lengthy paragraph explaining what went on upon meeting the folks.
Allegedly, Riley’s mom didn’t give a crap what happened to Riley and just said, “That’s fine, whatever,” to Mick when he popped the big question – could Riley stay in Chicago for a few months to train and prepare for the danger? “He’d transfer schools and end up going to the same school as a few of the other guardians,” he’d explained. With her careless aura and the way she smoked cigarettes like a chimney, she gave in like warm butter.
Riley’s stepdad, though, a Latino guy who couldn’t have been much older than the band guys themselves, seemed fearful to object to his mom’s agreement, and stayed on the safe side. He was concerned for his safety like he was his true father and according to Mick, Riley actually smiled genuinely at the guy. His little sister was listening in on the whole ordeal, though, and when Mick started to imply that he’d have to leave home, she came out into the living room crying.
She was only his half-sister and his stepdad’s daughter, but that didn’t mean anything at all, because Riley held her on his lap the whole time after that and kept reassuring her that he was gonna be fine. Mick even said that Chuck wasn’t surprised by his sentimentality – he treated the little girl, Alexandria, like a princess. The bottom line for Riley was that he was in the clear and his folks ultimately approved to let him stay in Chicago while the danger passed over.
Chuck’s mom was a bit different. She was worried about her son and asked “a shit ton of questions,” in Mick’s words, timid but firm. Mick had his powers on hand to show her that it was real – another reason why he was sent down rather than the others was that his was more harmless – and she was floored. Apparently it was easy to tell where Chuck got his shyness and awkwardness.
She had to think it over for a little while, but Mick’s friendly self won her over eventually. He put in just the right amount of small talk and put on the most sincere face he’d ever worn, and for that, she had caved in.
Our two fellow teens in this fight would be coming up to Chicago that Monday, living in the band’s spare room and going to the same school as Tegan and I. They had to have that time to pack and sort out things at their old school, say goodbye to their families and make them swear secrecy in fear of terrifying the world and/or making everybody laugh so hard the planet exploded anyway.
The week flew by and the band had straightened up their apartment in preparation for Chuck and Riley’s arrival, and word has it that Andy and Anthony had eventually made up one night. (Chance told us that, but he didn’t say how – not that I really wanted to know, if any of the fanfiction I’d stumbled upon had taught me anything.) It was like a home-away-from-homecoming.
One of those nights, my dad cooked up some spaghetti and he asked how things were going for the first time in a while. He did it with a slight smile, obviously curious but not wanting to intrude too much.
“They’re getting better every day,” I said truthfully, slurping the noodles. “It’s only a matter of time, though.”
“Are you beating up punching bags with the lightning you shot out when I got hurt?” he beamed knowingly. His wounds had healed from what I knew, and every so often he alluded to the sparks that shot from my body in his defense.
I smiled right back at him, but the only thing I did to the punching bags was…well, punch them. Zapping them would probably cause a power surge throughout the whole apartment building, so I tried not to do that. Thus, I changed the subject. “Speaking of lightning, how are you and Ms. Tracey?”
My dad practically choked on the milk he was drinking, and after coughing it out, he wheezed, “How do you know about that, mijo?”
“I know you’ve been on dates with her, papá.”
He sighed deeply and put on a serious face I only saw when he was about to get sentimental. “Oshie…you know I love your mother very much to this day, and I know you still love her even though she is gone…”
I couldn’t hold back a cringe. I knew exactly where this was going, but it was that awkward hurtle we had to jump over, addressing what he thought would be my objection.
“But…it has been fourteen years since her death, and…” he trailed off, staring at the napkins in the center of the dinner table to find the words. “I guess it’s just time for me to move on.”
“Papá, I think it’s great that you’re moving on,” I spoke honestly, smiling at him even though he wasn’t looking at me. “I know you’ve got something great with Ms. Tracey. You don’t have to worry about what I think about all this, I understand. It’s…it’s cool.”
Through his thickening beard, a tight-lipped grin escaped him. “Thank you, Oshie.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Well I never know what you think about this kind of stuff.”
“That’s ‘cause we hardly ever talk about it,” I laughed.
He looked off to the side again and said, “Ah, that’s my fault. Sorry for that too.” Taking another swig of milk (this time without choking), he added, “And don’t worry, I’m not going to remarry. I just…want some company, is all.”
“Totally understand.” To be honest, I would have understood a long time ago if he brought this subject up further back. I just never wanted to force anything with my dad. He was never forceful with me, and I wanted to pay him back.
The crow’s feet around his eyes wrinkled up as he kept smiling at me. “Thank you again, mijo. It’s nice to know I have your blessing.”
It was a group consensus. Mick would be sent with Chuck and Riley back to Gainesville to explain everything to their parents and why they missed school that day. With his positive demeanor and collected nature, he was a shoe-in to win over our last two guardians completely.
Mick was back in Chicago by midnight, and when I woke up the next morning and checked my Facenook, Mick had a pretty lengthy paragraph explaining what went on upon meeting the folks.
Allegedly, Riley’s mom didn’t give a crap what happened to Riley and just said, “That’s fine, whatever,” to Mick when he popped the big question – could Riley stay in Chicago for a few months to train and prepare for the danger? “He’d transfer schools and end up going to the same school as a few of the other guardians,” he’d explained. With her careless aura and the way she smoked cigarettes like a chimney, she gave in like warm butter.
Riley’s stepdad, though, a Latino guy who couldn’t have been much older than the band guys themselves, seemed fearful to object to his mom’s agreement, and stayed on the safe side. He was concerned for his safety like he was his true father and according to Mick, Riley actually smiled genuinely at the guy. His little sister was listening in on the whole ordeal, though, and when Mick started to imply that he’d have to leave home, she came out into the living room crying.
She was only his half-sister and his stepdad’s daughter, but that didn’t mean anything at all, because Riley held her on his lap the whole time after that and kept reassuring her that he was gonna be fine. Mick even said that Chuck wasn’t surprised by his sentimentality – he treated the little girl, Alexandria, like a princess. The bottom line for Riley was that he was in the clear and his folks ultimately approved to let him stay in Chicago while the danger passed over.
Chuck’s mom was a bit different. She was worried about her son and asked “a shit ton of questions,” in Mick’s words, timid but firm. Mick had his powers on hand to show her that it was real – another reason why he was sent down rather than the others was that his was more harmless – and she was floored. Apparently it was easy to tell where Chuck got his shyness and awkwardness.
She had to think it over for a little while, but Mick’s friendly self won her over eventually. He put in just the right amount of small talk and put on the most sincere face he’d ever worn, and for that, she had caved in.
Our two fellow teens in this fight would be coming up to Chicago that Monday, living in the band’s spare room and going to the same school as Tegan and I. They had to have that time to pack and sort out things at their old school, say goodbye to their families and make them swear secrecy in fear of terrifying the world and/or making everybody laugh so hard the planet exploded anyway.
The week flew by and the band had straightened up their apartment in preparation for Chuck and Riley’s arrival, and word has it that Andy and Anthony had eventually made up one night. (Chance told us that, but he didn’t say how – not that I really wanted to know, if any of the fanfiction I’d stumbled upon had taught me anything.) It was like a home-away-from-homecoming.
One of those nights, my dad cooked up some spaghetti and he asked how things were going for the first time in a while. He did it with a slight smile, obviously curious but not wanting to intrude too much.
“They’re getting better every day,” I said truthfully, slurping the noodles. “It’s only a matter of time, though.”
“Are you beating up punching bags with the lightning you shot out when I got hurt?” he beamed knowingly. His wounds had healed from what I knew, and every so often he alluded to the sparks that shot from my body in his defense.
I smiled right back at him, but the only thing I did to the punching bags was…well, punch them. Zapping them would probably cause a power surge throughout the whole apartment building, so I tried not to do that. Thus, I changed the subject. “Speaking of lightning, how are you and Ms. Tracey?”
My dad practically choked on the milk he was drinking, and after coughing it out, he wheezed, “How do you know about that, mijo?”
“I know you’ve been on dates with her, papá.”
He sighed deeply and put on a serious face I only saw when he was about to get sentimental. “Oshie…you know I love your mother very much to this day, and I know you still love her even though she is gone…”
I couldn’t hold back a cringe. I knew exactly where this was going, but it was that awkward hurtle we had to jump over, addressing what he thought would be my objection.
“But…it has been fourteen years since her death, and…” he trailed off, staring at the napkins in the center of the dinner table to find the words. “I guess it’s just time for me to move on.”
“Papá, I think it’s great that you’re moving on,” I spoke honestly, smiling at him even though he wasn’t looking at me. “I know you’ve got something great with Ms. Tracey. You don’t have to worry about what I think about all this, I understand. It’s…it’s cool.”
Through his thickening beard, a tight-lipped grin escaped him. “Thank you, Oshie.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Well I never know what you think about this kind of stuff.”
“That’s ‘cause we hardly ever talk about it,” I laughed.
He looked off to the side again and said, “Ah, that’s my fault. Sorry for that too.” Taking another swig of milk (this time without choking), he added, “And don’t worry, I’m not going to remarry. I just…want some company, is all.”
“Totally understand.” To be honest, I would have understood a long time ago if he brought this subject up further back. I just never wanted to force anything with my dad. He was never forceful with me, and I wanted to pay him back.
The crow’s feet around his eyes wrinkled up as he kept smiling at me. “Thank you again, mijo. It’s nice to know I have your blessing.”
♠ ♠ ♠
It's finals week for me. Oy, haven't actually studied in ages. o_OAlso, on a slightly more related note, I've always found it amusing that in Spanish, the words for "potato" and "dad" are one accent mark apart. ::tehe: