Reawakened: She's the Golden Quintessence

A mover’s truck drove down the road of a quiet neighbourhood and pulling up in front of one of the houses, a charcoal grey Mercedes Benz pulled up behind it. It that belonged to the people that were moving in; a mother and her daughter Blake, a medium toned sixteen year old tomb boy with long dark curly hair and big brown eyes. She was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of cargo pants whilst her mother who was the complete opposite of her, was dressed so fancy she looked like she just walked off the cover of a fashion magazine. The movers got out of the truck and opened the back as in the car, Blake and her mother got their seatbelts off and got out too, looking around at the serene neighbourhood that was now their home. Mom who was enthusiastic about the move had a wide smile on her face whilst Blake who was indifferent stood with her arms folded, so bothered she looked like she was going to be sick. “Ah we’re here, isn’t this exciting?” mom said beaming and Blake just looked away from her rolling her eyes. “Blake?” “Can we start moving things in?” one of the movers asked. “Oh yes, the front door should be open,” she responded. “Alright, come on guys let’s go,” he said and they began offloading the truck and moving the furniture and the boxes into the house as mom then gave out a tired sigh and walked up to Blake. “Seriously?” she said, giving her a look. “What?” Blake said wondered, like she didn’t know what she was talking about. “You said you were going to work on the attitude.” “What did I do? I’m literally just standing here.” “You think I didn’t see you, you just rolled your eyes at me.” “Oh right that . . . Yeah I did just roll my eyes at you,” Blake said nonchalantly. It was the kind of person she was, outspoken and brutally honest. She didn’t like to beat about the bush, she found it to be a huge waste of time and energy and so her approach was to always hit the nail directly on the head; an attribute of hers that was so strong many people, especially her mother, found to be very antagonistic. “Exactly, that’s the attitude I’m talking about. Honey, this is a great move for the both of us. The job here is going to give us a really good life.” “Ugh gosh save me the speech mom. I’ve heard it one too many times and it’s not helping. It gets worse every time I hear it and by worse I mean annoying,” she said and mom just sighed closing her eyes; giving herself a moment to calm herself. Her daughter’s character was so robust it was exhausting, and the worst part was that the older she got, the bolder it became, making it that much harder to deal with. She opened her eyes. “Dr. Howard gave me the number of a very good doctor in town.” "Oh you want to start seeing someone? Good for you." "Oh stop you know I'm talking about you," mom said. “No.” “Blake?” “Absolutely not. I’m not seeing a psychiatrist like some crazy person, no,” Blake said as mom grabbed her designer sunglasses and moved them to the top of her head. “You’re out of control.” “Out of control? For goodness sake mom it was one fight.” “Yes one really bad fight,” mom said and Blake heavily groaned as she looked away from her, so tired of hearing it she felt like pulling her own hair out and shoving it into her ears to block them. “Goodness gracious.” “Your broke a girl’s nose.” Blake looked back at her. “She’s not a nice person mom, she was always talking smack about everyone.” “So? People talk smack about people all the time that doesn’t mean you should go around beating them up.” “She was a bully, she tormented everyone and made their lives a living hell.” “That still didn’t give you the right to punch her,” mom said. She knew she had a mouth on her but fighting, that was something that took her so aback she was finding it extremely hard to get passed. “Yes it did, mom she and her friends were yelling at some poor girl. They pinned her to the corner and slapped her around like some dummy. What did you want me to do just walk in there, use the bathroom and walk out? No. I had to do something so I did.” “And I get that, sticking up for someone is a good thing but you didn’t have to punch her. You could have just walked up to her and talked to her.” “Talk to Caroline,” Blake said and laughed. “O.k. you know what, I’m going to let that one slide because clearly you have no idea what you’re talking about. Caroline is a bully and like all bullies, she doesn’t like being told anything. The rule is to only talk to her if you’re giving her a compliment, and you wanted me to ‘talk’ to her about her beating up on some girl, seriously? She was going to break my face, and so before she broke mine, I broke hers. It was pre-self-defense. It needed to be done and it was done.” “Is it just me or do you feel that much better about yourself every time you tell this story?” She smiled. “I do. I saved that girl’s life.” “Yes and ended up getting into so much trouble.” “Caroline was an evil tyrant that had been tormenting people for years, she needed to be put in her place, and I’m glad I was the one to do it.” “You got expelled,” mom said. “Still glad. And if another opportunity presented itself, I’d do it again.” “Oh my gosh,” she said as she threw her head down in defeat, and looked back at her. “I don’t think you know how serious this is.” “I do.” “No you don’t coz if you did, you would be remorseful and you’re not.” “You’re right I’m not, I will never be remorseful for giving that witch a taste of her own medicine,” Blake said. “She got exactly what she deserved.” “Alright that’s it, I’m setting an appointment with the doctor,” mom said as she walked away. “No you’re not.” “Yes I am,” she said walking on as Blake followed behind her. “Seriously?” Mom stopped and turned back. “Yes seriously.” “You are seriously going to send me to a psychiatrist?" "Yes." "Mom come on, people who see psychiatrists have serious problems.” “Yes they do,” she said giving her a look, insinuating that she was one of those people. “What? You did not just give me that look implying that I have a problem. I do not have a problem,” Blake said offended. She had only been in the one fight but she was being treated like some troublemaker who was always getting into fights. “Maybe not now but it could well be the beginning of one.” “Of what? Me going on a rampage of beating people up?” “Yes," mom responded. “Oh my gosh are you actually serious? That is ridiculous, mom I was helping someone.” “And I get that but you didn’t have to resort to violence.” “Yes I did, fighting is not cool, it’s wrong I know that, but I had to hit her, it was literally the only way I was going to save that girl’s life,” Blake said. “People die from being beaten up by bullies you know that right?” “Yes I do but you doing what the bullies do, doesn’t make you any better than them, it makes you just like them and that is unacceptable because you’re supposed to be better.” “And I get that but it was in the heat of the moment mom, there was no time to start thinking about what was right and what was wrong, the only thing on my mind was saving that girl’s life and so I jumped in.” “What happened to reporting such matters to the teachers and letting them handle it?” mom asked. “Oh please they never handled it. Whenever someone reported an incident concerning her and she was confronted about it, she would put on this good girl act saying it was all just a bunch of lies people were stirring up because she was so pretty and rich and they were all just jealous of her. And they would buy it, every single time. So annoying. They’re practically the ones that made her the monster she is because instead of disciplining her, they let every single thing she did slide, sending her off with not so much as a warning. So annoying.” “What about the principal?” “Him too. Where do you think these Oscar worthy performances were being done? In his office. And so even if I reported the incident, it wasn’t going to solve anything. It was going to have been nothing but a huge waste of time because the same thing that always happens, was going to happen again. The tormenter was going to have gone Scott-free whilst the tormentee was going to be left to walk the hallways even more terrified than they were before, such fun,” Blake said, continuing to justify her actions, as mom stood quiet ruminating over her words. The situation wasn’t as black and white as she had previously perceived. From what she had just heard, it was clear to see that Blake wasn’t the only one to be blamed, the teachers and the principal were to blame too, but she was still in the wrong. “That still didn’t give you the right to hit her,” she said as behind them the movers continued carrying their things into the house. “Oh my gosh.” “Goodness, you worry me so much, do you know that?” “I don't even know why coz from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve got yourself a pretty sound kid on your hands,” Blake said. "Oh wow, do I have another child I don't know about?" "That's cute, you know very well I was talking about me." "Do I? Because pretty sound is the total opposite of what you are. If you were a pretty sound kid, you would have known better than to fight in school,” mom said and Blake bitterly groaned as she threw her head back. She knew fighting was wrong but the fact that she kept on bringing it up and labelling her as the villain when Caroline was clearly the villain, was so exhausting it made her blood boil. She had been justifying her actions since the day it happen but trying to get through to her mother, was like talking to a brick wall. "I was saving a life." "Goodness, do you know how much you stress me?" Blake looked back at her as she gave out a calming sigh. "I may have an idea." “Great, so could you please do something about it,” mom said fed up, she had had it up to there. “I know that things have been different since the divorce but . . .” “Oh my gosh mom no, this is not about the divorce, that happened six years ago for goodness sake.” “O.k. so what is it then? Because it was just around that time that you started to become this person.” Blake folded her arms and gave her a look. “And what person is that?” she asked, curious to hear what she was going to say because she knew her mother oh too well. She liked to blow things completely out of proportion, hence her giving her so much heat it was like she robbed a bank or killed someone. “The one who needs a serious attitudinal adjustment because she’s always getting into trouble. If she’s not in detention because of talking back to her teachers, then she’s being expelled for fighting.” “Oh my gosh you did not just use that as an example, it was one fight.” “Yes one fight that could be the start of many,” mom said, worried that her fighting was going to become a pattern. “Goodness mom, it’s not like it was something I was planning on doing, it just happened. I saw that poor girl being pummelled and I jumped in.” “You know what, it’s those video games you’re always playing. They're the ones that are messing with you.” “Oh my gosh there you go blaming the video games again,” Blake said, sick and tired of hearing it. It was the other thing in her life that was constantly under fire. If she wasn’t stressing over her attitude, then she was stressing over her video games. “Who else am I going to blame? Those video games are full of bad language and violence. If they’re not the ones turning you into this rebel then what is?” “Rebel?” she said and chuckled. “You know what, it is the divorce.” “Ha ha,” mom said and Blake laughed. “This is not funny.” “You sure? Coz you just called me a rebel.” “You are a rebel, I mean just look at how you’re dressed.” Blake looked down at herself and then looked back at mom. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” she asked wondering. “You never wear the dresses I buy you.” “Oh o.k. so now I’m a rebel just because I don’t wear dresses? What does that have to do with anything? There are a lot of rebels I know that wear dresses, what’s your excuse for them? And besides, I hate dresses. You know that.” “Honey you’re a girl you can’t hate dresses. Dresses are an expression of our femininity. They make us look cute and pretty,” mom said, continuing the hard fight to get through to her. “I don’t like dresses, how many times am I going to say this?” “Well it’s not just the dresses, I buy you other stuff too but you don’t wear it either. All those cute girly t-shirts I’ve bought you, you haven’t won a single one.” “Yes coz you buy me pink t-shirts, I hate pink,” Blake said. “Listen to you hate pink, it's the colour of love, what kind of girl hates the colour of love?” “The one that hasn’t been brainwashed by the world to think that every girl’s favourite colour should be pink, I blame Barbie, this is why I tortured and killed every single doll you got me. She’s on an agenda to take over the world; controlling little girls by stealing their individuality and turning them into plastic airheads like herself, and I refuse to be a part of it,” she said as mom just stood there giving her a look. She wasn’t just wearing a pink dress, her shoes and her glasses were pink too, making her not just a member of the very agenda but a senior one at that. “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that.” “I can say it again if you want.” “No goodness, all you wear are these dull colours,” mom said, on the verge of losing her mind. “Would it kill you to add some rainbow colours?” “Rainbow colours? Eww yes. That would literally kill me.” “Oh my gosh Blake you are giving me nothing to work with right now.” “What do you want from me?” Blake asked. “I want you to grow up.” “Mm o.k., and how would you like me to do that mother dearest?” she asked in a sweet but very sarcastic tone. “Do not sass me, I am so not in the mood.” Blake rolled her eyes as she looked away from her. “And stop rolling your eyes at me!” “O.k.!” “Oh my gosh, can you please just try?” mom said, so tired of having the same conversation with her and seeing no change. “To do what? Wear dresses and like pink?” “Amongst other things, yes.” “Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” Blake said and mom groaned as she threw her head back. “O.k., here’s what’s on the table,” she said and faced her. “I will not call the psychiatrist if . . .” “You wouldn’t.” “You start wearing dresses and add some pink to your wardrobe.” Blake pretended to gag. “I’m sorry I just threw up a little bit in my mouth,” she said, making a queasy face like she was actually going to vomit. “Hilarious.” “Pass.” “Blake?" mom said as though warning her. "Double pass." "O.k. great, I’m going to make that call to the psychiatrist and you’re going to be seeing him every day after school,” she smilingly said and walked away. “What? Whoa hey hold on,” Blake said but she just kept on walking. “Mom!” She stopped and turned back. “Yes daughter dearest,” she said, in the very same sweet but sarcastic tone she used not too long ago. “Yeah that is annoying.” “Thank you.” “Ugh fine,” Blake said and mom walked back to her. “Fine what?” “Fine I will wear dresses and add some pink to my wardrobe," she said and again pretended to gag, less dramatic this time. “You just can't help it can you?" "I really can't." "You know what, I’m not even gonna. Three dresses and one full pink outfit a week,” mom said, laying down the terms of the agreement. “Are you high? No. One dress and one pink accessory a week.” “Two dresses and one full pink outfit.” “Why does it have to be a full pink outfit? Who am I Malibu Barbie? No,” Blake said, appalled by the terms. “It doesn’t have to be a top and bottom, it can be a dress.” “Yes a pink dress, puke!” “Who says puke to a pink dress? Goodness what is wrong with you?” mom asked, completely bewildered. How was it possible for her daughter to be the complete polar opposite of who she was? Not even a smidge of her girliness rubbed off on her and it was baffling. “I hate pink. How many times am I going to say this?” “Well it’s either you start wearing pink or it’s sessions with Dr. Melvin every day after school for six whole months.” “Ugh mom come on!” Blake complained. “That’s what’s on the table, take it or leave it?” She loudly groaned and thought about it. Both options were terrible but she had to pick one, and though their terribleness was pretty much on the same level, one was better than the other. She hated the colour pink to the very core of her being but she hated the idea of seeing a psychiatrist even more and so though the terms of the agreement were ones that made her stomach churn, she had no other choice but to agree to them. “Fine,” she said, fuming inside like a kettle. She hated being forced to do things she didn’t want to but it was either that or seeing a psychiatrist and seeing a psychiatrist was out of the question. “Good.” Mom stretched her hand forward and they shook on it. “And no fighting,” she said in a firm tone. “Mom relax I’m not going to fight with anyone.” “I need you to make me a promise Blake, seriously.” “Fine, I promise,” Blake said. “But can there be an unless in there somewhere because there’s a lot of grey area in not fighting ever? What if I get attacked? Like for real, am I not allowed to defend myself?” “Of course you are.” “O.k. so can we have that in there?” “Fine,” mom said. “You’re not allowed to fight unless it’s self-defense, other than that fighting is forbidden.” “Got it.” “Alright, are we good?” “We’re good,” Blake said. “O.k. let’s get inside and begin settling down shall we?" “Yes ma'am,” she said and mom walked into the house as she remained outside for a little while, looking around at their new neighborhood; an upper middle class neighborhood with bright coloured houses and green lawns, a nice little upgrade from the lower middle class neighbourhood they used to live in. Giving out a heavy sigh, she then followed mom into the house, hoping that the new setting was just what they needed to begin to get themselves back to the way they were before the divorce; before Blake grew cold and began to shut her mother out.