Mom's house is always well ordered. Everything is where it ought to be. Everything is clean and concise. That antique mechanical clock I mentioned before brought all the way from Earth is a good example of her home. You might be tempted to think her home is cold and unfriendly. If you did, you would be wrong. It's a home that is well managed, loved and taken care of.
It feels safe. It feels full of love.
Don't get me wrong, I love Dad's place. Dad's place is chaotic, but fun. His view is always of the future. He misses things of the now: sometimes there are dishes he forgets to set the bot to do. Sometimes there is a bit of laundry he left where the bots don't know to look. However, he has a sense of wonder and has decorated the house with things in nifty places. The unexpected. The surprising. And he has Gooberface for me. But, I didn't need that feeling of chaos. I had helped create a little too much for me.
Right now, I needed stability and quiet. Mom might be the uber inquisitor when she wanted to know something, but she turned into the monster bear if either my brother or I were threatened or growled at. Woe unto those who threaten her cubs.
I wanted that. I needed that. So that's where I went.
Thankfully, Dad understood. He even approved.
I snuggled into my bed. It was a cool night tonight. In the spring, Shadwell swung between warm and very cold as it shook off the last graspings of winter. I wanted to snuggle in. I wanted to sleep. I was tired. Mom had made a great dinner for me and snuggled me close for a while. However, if you tell anyone I got mom-snuggles, I'll make sure your booster sings terrible Disney songs for the rest of your life!
I tend to deflate a bit when I get hammered from all sides like I had been. I pull back. I pull in. I shutdown a bit. When its too much from adults at least. I don't quite melt, but grilled cheese really had it easy compared to me.
Ever seen a BII agent give you that deep, boring stare, drilling into your soul, nonverbally demanding to know if you are telling the truth and seeing all your dirty little (and they ARE little! I am 12!) secrets laid bare before her eyes?! If you don't, then, I strongly recommend against it. She kept implying we'd planted the helmet, that this was an elaborate hoax. After all, I am the leader of the Merry Pranksters! But, nope. Not this time. Not for this. Not this way. No way, nuh uh.
I had a bad feeling though she knew I was the leader of the Merry Pranksters. And she had heard of me. That filled me with utter joy. Or not.
Grilled cheese, I tell you, has it easy.
I snuggled in and passed out.
My dreams were a complicated mess of Doom, Gloom and Vroom! Wuh?! Well, I always did like the idea of motorcycles. Just not their implementation.
Oh! If you don't already, make sure you ALWAYS turn off your booster before going to bed. Don't use spaceship mode. Don't just turn on the Do Not Disturb. TURN. IT. OFF. Ever imagined what would happen if you broadcasted your dreams to a bunch of people?! Yes, well, fortunately, I have never done that.
However, poor Aitan did and that helped make the situation with the Awknerds so much worse. For him and me.
SO! DON'T! DO! IT!
When I woke up, I felt less deflated. I noticed my little brother and my mom had come to snuggle with me at night. It was loving and caring and oh so embarrassing to my 12 year old self. Not only was I tied up in a two people first thing in the morning, I was going to hear no end of it from Mom since she declares I am an octopus with far more than eight elbows and knees.
I wriggled my way out since Nature was calling. I climbed down from my bunk bed - yes, yes, I sleep very, very deeply! get over it! - and padded my way to end Her incessant promptings. I had grabbed my booster on the way out of my room.
I linked to my booster, sighed and put it through the permissions to let it link to my implant in my head. After all, could you imagine the chaos of booster connecting to the wrong kids?! Oh the fun that would be! MUHAHAHA.
And as soon as I did, Rosa had a message screaming at me. She found something in the Immie recording her little drone had recorded. She saw a foot. Just barely. Maybe. Partially. It flickered and was gone. However, when she went frame by frame…
Mom had offered to let me stay home from school. After all, I'd been traumatized for the last 48 hours. I really, really wanted the structured quiet and protection of Mom. It looked like that was not going to happen. I needed to talk to Rosa and see what she had. I wanted to do it without Mom being able to overhear. Last thing I needed was Mama Bear stopping me from getting into mischief.
Mischief meant an adventure.
And an adventure definitely seemed to be afoot in Shadwell!