Rules of a Rebel

2020 Valentines Day Special || RoaR as a Book

"Whatever." 

"Can we roll the windows down, dad?" Melody asks. She's redoing her braid, twisting her hair into an elegant pattern around the cusp of her neck. 

"Sure," He switches the button. 

Both the windows in the back roll down.. The breeze rushes in, daring me to close my eyes and turn away. I face it head on, refusing to look away even my eyes begin to water. Hair slaps my cheeks and neck, sticky with sweat and humidity. Melody laughs even as her braid comes undone again. 

We turn one last corner to a cul-de-sac of pastel-colored houses. The lawns and front porches are decorated cheerfully, with statues of praying angels and sings that have NO SOLICITING in a quirky cursive font.  Each front lawn begs for attention. Look at how happy our family is, they scream. Look at how luxurious our lifestyle is.  Mom examines them, probably already planning on how to make our house look better than the others. 

Dad starts to pull on the drive. Before the car stops, I swing the door open. 

"Peyton!" Mom shrieks. "Don't you -"

I land on the pavement, knees buckling. The pain sends a welcome sensation up my legs. I stretch my limbs, scanning the street. There's a hopscotch chalked on the sidewalk, the numbers almost faded completely. I hear the distant beat of an outdoor party. A group of boys dribble a basketball in the driveway across from us, but come to a stop once they spot me. 

One of them waves. "Hi!" 

I nod back, then turn around to our house. Two stories, peach panels, white roof and a balcony with a glass railing. It fits right in with the soft street lamps and towering palm trees. 

"Couldn't you have waited another minute?" Mom scolds as she steps out of the car. Dad pats me on the shoulder, keys jingling from his hip, as the two of them pass me. "You could have shattered your ankles." 

"I call dibs on the biggest bedroom!" Melody, who changed into a tank top and shorts in the car, shouts. She runs into the house after mom and dad. 

I take in the humid night, the smell of seawater and the taste of salt. I run my tongue over my lip piercing and roll my shoulders. My back still hurts from sitting in the car. Then, the moving truck rumbles around the corner and I decide to follow the rest of family into our new home. 

Our apartment in Chicago was dark curtains, dim lights and thick Persian rugs. This house is creamy walls, arched windows and bohemian chandeliers. There's a thin layer of dust on everything except for the spaces where the furniture was recently removed. I check out the whitened spaces on the wall, where old pictures must have hung. The people who lived here before us was an old retired couple. I wonder happened to them. 

 "Isn't this wonderful, David?" Mom calls. When I walk into the kitchen, she's playing with the dials on the electrical stove. "So modern and classy. Much better than that gas stove in our old apartment. Some days I'm surprised it didn't blow us up."

"Don't these cabinets look a little sturdy to you?" Dad asks, crouching down and opening them one by one. "Maybe I could..." 

"Oh for god's sake, David. No more home renovation projects." 

"Check it out," Melody calls. She's out on the backyard porch. "The neighbors are having a party!"

I step outside. 

Our backyard isn't a backyard at all, but one elongated beach. The ocean lies straight ahead, velvety black waves shifting under the moonlight. It would take me less than a minute to walk forwards and take a night swim. But all the neighbors would be able to see me. Like we see the party next door.