“That bag isn’t going to pack itself.” My mom sang as she passed my bedroom door, which was cracked just enough for her to see my red suitcase lying on top of my bed sheets, unprepared.
“That’s the point.” I yelled back at her. I was sitting on my miniature couch, gazing outside at the SUV which already had a few suitcases piled into the back of it. I heaved a sigh before turning up the music in my headphones. This was nonsense. I refused to be dragged off, and not be able to live a life of a normal teenager in my town this summer.
My eyes shifted onto my dad who had stumbled out the front door, carrying a huge bag, and a soda. He strolled over to the car and casually threw the suitcase on top of the others. He wiped a hand over his forehead, and slowly started his way back in. I didn’t even know if my dad was ‘Pro’ for plan of, “Ruin Carter’s Summer.” He seemed to be having a ball with all of the intense packing.
“Cart, I want that bag packed. Now.” I faintly heard my mother’s voice rise above my song, and I turned around. I dropped the earbuds around my neck, and watched her shift her hands to her hips.
Pushing myself off the couch, I wandered over to the woman who had a stern-lipped expression across her face. “Mom, do I honestly have to go? Is this an episode of Punkd or something? Because, this is just crumbling my summer.” I swept the bangs off my face, and glanced at the opened suitcase when I spoke.
“Yes” My mom pushed past me, and started rifling through my drawers. It sort of frustrated me. I knew how to pack… I just chose not to. “Stop asking those questions, because my mind is not changing anytime soon. We are going to Europe and that’s final.”
I hung my mouth open to respond to her, but held it in instead. There was never any use to argue with her whenever she had her mind set on something. You end up playing the “Silent” game, or having your phone taken up for a week. “…Fine.”
As she started throwing random items of clothing and underwear into the bottom of the suitcase, I rolled my eyes. I put my earbuds back in my ears, and started for the stairs. I wasn’t going to help her pack. I didn’t even have a say in this international trip. Why would I? I’m only seventeen. Apparently, I have no authority over my own being.
“Dad?” I screamed, as I entered the kitchen. An instant heat wave washed over me. The kitchen was humid, and I easily started sweating. The back door was open, which was generating the warmth from the hot day. I went to the fridge and opened it. I needed something to drink. “Dad?” I yelled again.
“What, honey?” I heard his voice from the living room. Grabbing a cool can of Dr. Pepper, I joined him. He was standing in front of the television, half watching Baseball, and half picking up a yellow suitcase which looked like my brothers. The back of his shirt was soaked from sweat, and his hair looked like it was dripping.
“Whoa. It must be on fire out there.” I examined my dad even more, as he heaved the suitcase into his palm, and toddled toward me. He looked exhausted behind the sweat that was trickling down his face.
“Nah, I’m the only hot one around here.” He winked, before grabbing my drink and taking a long swig out of it. I laughed as he did so. I loved how he was making a good time out of this situation.
“Makes sense.” I snatched my can back, and smirked. He gave me a lopsided grin, before he swiped his hand across his face and continued out to the car. “Dad? Can I ask you something?”
I ran up behind him. He turned around, and dropped the bag at the front door.
“Anything.”
