SurvivorZ

4

MAUREEN

Danielle Sommers trudged downstairs with the cheer of a winter storm cloud. The teenager was a tempest of hormones on a good day. This clearly was the other kind. As she entered the kitchen, her mother could tell with one look that beauty was taking the day off, leaving her stuck dealing with the beast.

"Eat up. You're running late for school."

Maureen let her directive hang in the air between them. Rather than obeying, her daughter collapsed into the chair across from her younger sister with the world-weariness of someone six times her age. Ignoring her empty bowl, Danielle slipped a phone from her pocket and started texting her friends.

"Not hungry," she muttered dismissively.

Nine year-old Emily Sommers gazed at her defiant older sibling over a spoonful of Cocoa Puffs. Milk dribbled from her overloaded utensil onto the table. Her dark eyes shifted to her mother to witness the return fire.

"No texting at the table, Danielle. We spoke about this."

With a frustrated grunt, the teen punched a few buttons to complete her message – no doubt grousing to her girlfriends about her overbearing shrew of a mother. The phone returned to her pocket. Her unoccupied hands crossed at her burgeoning chest as she frowned at the empty bowl in mute fury.

Maureen sighed and shook her head, letting the matter drop. Pushing now would only incense the girl. As a doctor, she knew better than to pick at wounds. Danielle's scars from last night's family prizefight were still too fresh.

"Finish your breakfast, Em," Maureen said, returning to her coffee.

Emily popped the spoon into her mouth and resumed chewing.

"Good morning."

Bob Sommers appeared at the doorway, still fussing with his tie. His wife's tired expression and the quick shake of her head extinguished his cheer. He took his seat at the head of the table, while his eyes carefully measured the tension served up with his breakfast.

"Morning, dad," Emily greeted.

"How are you this morning, sweet pea?" He beamed while pouring himself a bowlful of Oatmeal Crisp. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"Not really. Someone wouldn't get off the phone all night." Her sharp eyes darted to Danielle.

"Mind your own business, pipsqueak."

"Danielle!" Maureen shouted.

"She started it."

"And I'm ending it," her mother snapped.

"Whatever."

Bob regarded his entire family. His gaze stopped on Danielle. "Let me guess. You're still sore about the car."

"I'm sixteen," Danielle asserted. "Amy Montrose had her own car four months ago, and Shelly Knowles' parents are getting one for her in a few weeks. I'm a good driver. Why can't I have one?"

"Well, let's consider that, shall we?" her father calmly replied. "For starters, you only have your learner's permit, so any thoughts you might have had about cruising around town with your friends, you can forget about it."

"Terry has some college friends who are twenty one. I could travel with—"

"Not in my lifetime, missy," Maureen injected curtly.

"Secondly, don't forget that you're already grounded for three weeks, after that little stunt you pulled... or do you think that breaking curfew to stay out late with your boyfriend is reason to reward you with a new car?"