Generation Why Bother

It was the night before Christmas, and all through the apartment, not a corner was quiet, especially not when every member of Put’emup, Put’emup had a beer in their hands.

There were countless Christmas concerts going on with various bands around the world, but none of them happened to be guardians of the world looking to chill out and have some fun. That’s exactly why the band invited all of us over to party it up – they even said we could bring our parents. Let me tell you, my dad was hesitant to go at first and outright said no when I asked if he could come. Then, Ms. Tracey told us she was going, and what do you know, my dad was all over the idea.

I didn’t even say anything and he told me to shut up.

We all drove over to their apartment that night and walked in to see countless corny red-and-green holiday decorations strewn all over the walls, a mini tree put up right by the monitor, and a crap ton of food all over the place. Good thing we came there hungry.

When my dad and I did Christmas, normally it was just a few lights on the outside of the house and a little tree. I don’t know if they went all-out because they were throwing a party, and yet it just felt festive. It even helped evaporate my worries for a night. We walked in right as Chance was stealing the last of the meat roll-ups and Anthony was still stapling snowmen to the walls, and Chuck jumped up from his seat at the counter and actually welcomed us.

I glanced behind me at my dad and Ms. Tracey, and for the first time I saw them holding hands. I smiled at my dad though he didn’t see.

Andy and Mick, who were sitting on the couch doing nothing from what I could tell, copied Chuck and told us to come in, grabbing our heavy coats and tossing them on a nearby chair. They offered our parents beer and offered us pop, gushing about how it was supposed to snow that night, and before long, we were caught up in the Christmas spirit, unable to go for long without talking to someone.

About twenty minutes later, though, a knock was heard on the door.

Everybody froze. The eight guardians were here along with my dad and Tegan’s mom; who else could there have been? It couldn’t have been the cops…and nobody else knew about it, from what the band had said when they invited us in the first place. It was just supposed to be a little get-together.

Mick literally giggled as he bounced over to the door, although the rest of us were stuck looking at each other with questioning expressions. He put a finger to his lips at us as he twisted the door handle and then flung it wide open.

Standing there in skinny jeans, a pea coat, and a scarf that took up half her head, was Shira.

Everybody went totally silent when she shuffled into the apartment after Mick greeted her. She pulled down her scarf to reveal a judging frown as she looked us over.

Mick stood behind her and stared directly at Tegan, winking so obviously that every single person in the room could tell what was going on. Tegan returned the favor with a huge smile and she had to keep her hands to her face to keep herself from blushing too badly.

“I’m here to assess your abilities,” Shira finally spoke. “I need to make sure that you are ready for the attack that is going to be happening in mere days.”

Mick wasn’t having any of her serious stuff and instead patted her on the back. “Aw, don’t worry, we’re all fine! Take a breather, tell us about that wicked trip from Daltia! Kick back, it’s Christmas!”

She blew him off and instead asked, “Has there been anybody in here who hasn’t received their powers yet?”

Nobody wanted to stare, but everybody knew who the answer to her question was. Leaning against the counter, Andy sheepishly raised his hand, not daring to draw attention to himself in a rare moment of shyness.

Shira cocked her head. For once, it seemed like the intergalactic expert didn’t quite know how to react to this. “That’s odd. If what you told me was correct, you were the first to pass out from the bolt.”

“Tell me about it.” He rolled his eyes and took a deep gulp of whatever beer he was drinking.

“Okay, we’re not here to think about that stuff!” Mick interrupted, pushing Shira further into the gaggle of humans. “We’re here to party!”

“B-but I have to check in -” she pointed out, her eyes wide.

Chance backed Mick up by shouting, “You can do that some other time, tonight’s for celebration!”

And I just had to hop on the bandwagon, walking over to our Daltian partial-ally. “Just watch out for the mistletoe.”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes at me like she wasn’t the one who almost killed my dad and she should have a reason not to trust me. “Will it render me immobile? Will it throw swords at me?”

“No, but you do have to kiss whoever stands underneath it with you,” I laughed, elbowing Tegan, who was standing next to me yet not saying a word.

Tegan slapped my shoulder playfully before walking over to get some more pop. Shira still looked utterly confused.

So I walked over to my dad, who was standing alone in the kitchen and staring into his cup of eggnog like it just insulted his mother. Set in strategic places around the apartment, there was mistletoe – I wondered if it was Mick’s idea. I also had to wonder if he was avoiding standing underneath it with Ms. Tracey for whatever reason; maybe he was still in that shy phase.

“You having fun?” I had to ask, giving him a little smirk.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” he said in a rush. “I like seeing your friends. It reminds me that you have more of a social life than I do.” He forced a laugh. “And it reminds me that you’re almost an adult, too, but let’s not go there.”

I leaned against the kitchen island like he was doing and sighed. The topic I was about to bring up had been one that was coming for a few months now, and in a mere matter of days, it would be coming to a head whether any of us liked it or not. I dreaded being the one to bring up these things.

“Look, papá, I know you’re still not totally comfortable with this whole thing. It doesn’t take rocket science to figure it out,” I began. “I totally understand that. But…I have, like, a week. And we’re not even gonna be in Chicago when it happens. The band’s got a gig in Miami for New Years and they want the non-band guardians to come down with them just in case anything happens, and…”

The last “and” was for filler. I didn’t have anything else to add. I wasn’t asking his permission, I was telling him a fact, and I think he knew that.

His face fell. Wrinkles that had been weathered into his skin over years of worry grew deeper. “So you’re not even going to be here? I’m not going to know how things are going? Ay, mijo…”

“I’ll keep you posted, I’ll call, I promise. I’m really nervous about this,” I confessed and bargained. “You’re probably gonna see it on the news, too.”

He pressed his hands against his face and groaned long and hard. “For the longest time I did not believe you, yet that night when you shot those sparks from your body, I…I realized that it was all true and that you’d been reeled into something much more threatening than I thought. So…please, mijo…just stay safe. Please.”

I nodded and took it all to heart. I already planned on being safe, and hearing him tell me to do so just made me want to that much more. “I will, dad. I promise.”

When I looked up at him smiling like his heart was breaking, I just thought about how hard it must’ve been for him to be my dad ever since summer happened. I was a well-behaved kid and never got into the kind of trouble my peers always did, breaking the law and getting into fights with each other, and he never had to really deal with a lot of crap from me. Knowing he was a single parent and feeling the pain he had to go through kept me in line, but at this point, I didn’t have a choice. I knew I was hurting him and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. To be honest, I felt pretty shitty over it. As long as I made it out alive, things would be normal soon. I couldn’t wait.

I think I took him off guard when I hugged him tightly, but after a moment of nothing, he hugged me back. He didn’t have to say anything to let me know he appreciated it; I appreciated him more than he could ever have known.

A sudden yet familiar voice came from behind us. “Aw, can I make this a group hug?” Ms. Tracey beamed, putting down her eggnog and walking over anyway.

She made it happen, and even though I had an urge to cry out of anxiety and nervousness and happiness, I bit it back. Nobody needs to cry at a party and God knows I didn’t want to do that in front of my dad. He’d probably cry too, and I just wouldn’t know how to handle that.