Haze & Hellfire

Chapter 2: The Edge of Seventeen

Dallas pov:

"And I mean, who does he think he is, right? Just because he's a coach he doesn't have the right to boss me around like that." Dallas pauses, lets the wet towel rest for a brief moment on top of the clean plates and gives her fingers a quick inspection. Raisin-fingertips and chipped cobalt-blue nail polish. "I mean-" She continues and returns to dry the plate. "I bet the match's gonna be canceled. It's my usual luck."

She hadn't been able to let go of the fruitless and enervating conversation she had with coach Carter earlier in the day. She had tried to find Chrissy during lunch; she wasn't ready talking about the issue and she needed to vent further. She'd walked around the hallways eating a sandwich searching for Chrissy without success. She and Jason were probably hiding in some scrub, making out. Just the thought of Jason's slimy tongue digging around in someone's mouth made Dallas want to throw up in her mouth; talk about yuck galore! But she had to admit they make a cute couple. Too bad Jason's so incredibly boring. 

Dallas ended up eating the rest of her sandwich while going through her locker, finding the books for her last class of the day. It was a lazy hour of English. They got to read or engage in creative writing, which was an absolutely perfect way to end the school week and enter into spring break-week. She took out her thumbed paperback copy of The Silmarillion, pushed the chair back with her feet, leaned over the bench and buried herself in the plot while snacking on her grapes. She didn't even notice when the others packed up their things and left. Mrs. Richter had awoken her mids-Melkor's theft of the Silmarils, when everyone was already long gone. Dallas almost fell nose down into her desk from sheer surprise, too deep into the lore. Quickly she packed up her things and ran out of the classroom. 

Back at home, she entered what could simply be put as mom's own baking show-bonanza playing out in the Haze's kitchen. Flour everywhere, bowls, packages of sugar and butter and the radio blasting out Madonna's "Angel".

"Mom, are you drunk?" Dallas had to yell at her mom over the radio, dreading that she had to rush and buy a dozen pizzas and an ice cream cake for dinner later.

Mom spun around in a dance step, pressing a big bowl of batter against her chest. Clearly she didn't hear Dallas, so Dallas just waved at her. She didn't seem drunk, just happy and 'in the mood'.

"I bet it's gonna be the same thing as always." Dallas says and starts to imitate a teenage boy's voice that hasn't stepped over the edge of manhood vocally. "Oh no, I don't wanna fight a girl, what if I touch one of her boobies." She chuckles a little. "Cowards."

She doesn't get a response from mom - a major code red.

"Mom?"

Still no answer. Dallas looks up from the plate and the towel. Mom has stopped doing the dishes. She leans against the sink, her shoulders shake slightly and she squeezes the dish brush hard.

"Mooom-" Dallas moans and her shoulders drop. "Mom..."

Crap. She hates this. She knows exactly why mom has started crying.

"It is okay." Mom sobs, obviously not okay at all.

My God, Dallas thinks, and quickly puts down the clean and dry plate on the counter and throws the towel on top. Quickly she wraps her arms around mom's shoulders and hugs her hard, but a little awkwardly. She has never been good at comforting her when she's sad. Jack has always been the shoulder for her to cry on and he knows the right words to put an end to mum's leaking tear ducts. Dad's a completely different thing to handle when he's sad, the few times that occurs. At least she knows how to get him in a good mood again; they hug, Dallas jokes with him and the crying usually turns into laughter quite fast, but with mom it's completely different.