Sooner or Later (Feat. 1D and 5SOS)

1. Welcome to the Eighth Grade

Having no other defense, Emma looked to her mother for support and said, with pleading eyes, “Mom, tell him it’s not too short. You were with me when I bought it.”

“And I said you could wear it around the house, but it’s not appropriate for school, sweetie."

“And that top is too low-cut,” her father added. “They already know you’re a girl. You don’t need to prove it to them.”

“Prove what? That I have boobs?” she exclaimed, making her father’s eyes widen like a third arm had just sprouted from her body and started waving at him. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that, Dad, because I can’t fill out this tank top anyway because I don’t have boobs.” She threw her hands into the air and cried, “I’ll never have boobs!” Then she stomped out of the kitchen and fled up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door so violently it made the whole house shake.

“Oh, Emma ...” Motivated by that motherly instinct, Mrs. Walters got up and went to console her daughter while her husband and youngest daughter remained at the table.

With a sigh, Mr. Walters reached for his coffee cup and brought the brim to his lips. “Teenagers,” he grumbled. “Everything’s always so dramatic.”

Humming to herself and bobbing her head, Liddy lazily stirred her bowl of oatmeal with her pink spoon. “Do I have boobs?” she eventually asked, giggling at the unfamiliar word.

Mr. Walters nearly spit his mouthful of coffee onto the table. “You just eat your oatmeal,” he said, and then he reached again for the newspaper and hid behind it. “Boys would’ve been easier.”

Upstairs, Mrs. Walters knocked on her daughter’s door. “Emma, may I come in?”

“Why wait for an invitation?” Emma asked from her bed. “You’re just gonna come in anyway.”

And the teenage years have officially started, thought her mother, and then she opened the door and entered the bedroom, where Emma was lying flat on her back, her feet dangling over the edge of her bed, her brown eyes deliberately glued to the ceiling in an act of teenage defiance.

“See?” Emma murmured. “No invitation needed.” 

Mrs. Walters rolled her eyes. “I was being polite,” she said. “You know, like you used to be before that horrible monster took over your body.” Quickly and quietly, she snuck up beside her daughter and then pounced, tickling her sides and making her bust into a fit of giggles. “Am I ever gonna get my sweet little girl back? Huh? Huh?”

“Mom, s-stop! Hahaha! Stop!” As a huge grin overtook her face, Emma had no choice but to surrender. “Okay! Okay!”

“There she is!” her mother declared, ceasing her assault. “I knew she was still in there.” Patiently, she waited while Emma recovered and pulled herself up to a sitting position. “So are you ready to tell me why you’re so dead set on wearing that outfit to school today?”  

Emma sighed. “Because all the other girls will be dressed like that.”

“If all the other girls jumped off a bridge, would you?”

“Yes,” she cleverly answered.  

“Oh, I think you’re smarter than that,” her mother replied, gently tousling Emma’s brown hair with her fingers. “Look, believe it or not, I was thirteen once too, so I know what you’re going through. I understand that you want to dress like a woman and show off your ... body.”

The word sounded so strange coming from her lips.

“But there will be plenty of time for that later, I promise,” she went on, holding her daughter close. “Right now, just be glad the boys still notice the color of your eyes.”