They Call Her Love | ✔️

4: They Call Her Grounded

By the time I step foot into the foyer of our house after school, I know immediately something is horribly wrong.

It's dead silent.

Had this been a regular Wednesday afternoon, I'd be able to hear my parents yelling out workout mantra's as they rehearse their choreographed lesson plans for classes at our in-home gym.

"Yes, push it! Let me see you sweat!"

"Don't give up, feel the burn!"

These awkward phrases would be accompanied by the cheesy upbeat pop songs to serve as background music. It'd cause me headache's because the bass of the music bumped so hard, the entire house shook. It was eerie coming to a house as if it was playing on mute. Even Faith's annoyingly high-pitched voice would have been a warmer welcome.

"Love, is that you?" Dad's faint voice calls out as I slip off my backpack and slump it onto the floor next to the stairs.

I swallow hard. "Yes."

Without missing a beat, my mom's voice follows. "Can you come to the kitchen please?"

I take my time. The glossy wooden floor creaks underneath each step which means they too were aware I was in no rush to see them. I had never faced any real punishment before. My parents had it easy - they've never had to ground me, bail me out of jail, rush to hospital for an emergency. The reality is, I'm the good kid. Since I don't acquire the same academic skill as Faith, I'm merely the child that did well, kept quiet, and never caused problems.

I had no issue serving this unspoken title because it was the only place I belonged in this family. The three of them were constantly on the go, busy with their chaotic lives, while I remained still in my day-to-day activities, making sure everything around them was grounded.

So, to sum it up, yes, I'm a bit panicked at what's going to happen in the next few minutes because I've never experienced this. Discipline in the Harrison family is self-taught. Not once has mom and dad ever had to stop me from doing something or nag me to do a chore. There wasn't a reason for them to teach right from wrong, good from bad, because unlike some kids, I have common sense.

But today, that ends.

"What's up?" My voice croaks as I peek my head through the kitchen archway. As expected, the both of them are in bright yellow and orange matching spandex shorts and loose t-shirts, planted at the end of the glass table.

They look normal. Mom's honey colored (fake) hair was tied into a crisp bun, not a strand of hair out of place. It amazed me how pretty she looked naturally. I had grown envious of her ability to appear flawless throughout a sixty minute workout. She keeps a straight face, eyes peering into my soul with pouty lips.

My dad sits next to her, their toned arms nearly touching. He has a stern look on but with a much softer face. I guess since he's a bit older, he exemplifies this 'cute little old guy' essence. Everyone claims I inherited his chocolate colored eyes and button nose.

They look like polar opposites - mom like the queen of the Antarctic Eskimo's and dad like he could be laying on the hammock tucked away on an island somewhere. I can't accept the fact that my fate is in their hands.

Mom clears her throat and folds her tiny hands on top of the table. "Your principal called."

Dad gives me a look that says 'sorry kiddo', as if to warn me that nothing good will come out of this. I shoot him an 'I know' expression. Mom, completely oblivious to our telepathic powers, only frowns at me. "Sit down, Love."

I do as she says, quietly. This is much scarier than being in Mr. Pierce's office.

"Before you say anything," I blurt out. "I want to clarify that I needed to use the restroom really badly and that's why I left class in a hurry."