[Melody Newton]

[attr="class","nikki98"]

[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]It was late, the sun going down, and Melody hadn't bothered going home. Her phone buzzed again, she didn't even bother looking at the screen, simply turning it over to dismiss the call from her father. Aidan rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a Ziploc bag of weed. That was the main reason they were all here, and why they had been hanging around here for a few hours.

"Was that your Dad again."

She giggled, "Who else? For a guy who got a degree at 16 he's fucking stupid sometimes."

Aidan was rolling another joint; he carefully licked the edge of the paper, sticking it down and finishing off the cigarette. He held it up on the end and looked towards Melody with glazed eyes. He was almost as high as she was, despite his advantage in height and weight. He called her name.

Her eyes, amber, struggled to focus on the end of the cigarette, and then they flared brighter, almost golden. For a split second they were linked to the tip of the joint by a perfectly straight line of light so bright it hurt the eyes. A moment later it was gone, leaving everyone rubbing their eyes to get rid of the after-image seared into their retinas.

The end of the cigarette glowed red. It was flashy, but it worked. Aidan took a long drag on the joint before passing it around the small group of students. He was the oldest of the group, in twelfth grade, and the one that most of them relied on for their weed. He'd provided the small bag that Melody had hidden in her room. He rolled another, tossing it over to Melody, who tucked it into her back pocket.

"You've saved me so much in lighters I totally owe you a free hit this time."

She giggled, "Thaaaanks…"

---

Of course it had been Aidan's idea, everything was usually Aidan's idea. He was the defacto leader of their little group, and it was rare when someone didn't go along with his ideas. A few people had chickened out of this one, and it was just the hardcore crew left now. Aidan, Alex, Cassandra, and, of course, Melody.

She was sitting with her eyes closed, Alex tapped her shoulder, "Come on Melody."

"Shut up." She muttered back, then opened her eyes to display one amber and one silver, glinting faintly as they caught the yellow light from the street lamps. She held out a hand and a small knife materialised in her fingers. Somehow it caught a light that wasn't there, glinting gold at the edges.

Slipping it under the yellow painted metal that adorned the steering wheel, she levered the lock open, parting the solid material like butter.

Aidan pulled open the steering column and pulled out a tangle of wires, sorting through them until he found the ones he wanted. A minute later the car rumbled to life, and the teens cheered as the pulled out into the road.

---

Melody was feeling woozy. She'd asked for a go behind the wheel, and Aidan, after some pressure, had finally allowed himself to be convinced.

She was regretting it now that she'd wrapped it around a street light. She slowly looked over to the others, to discover only empty seats. The airbags had inflated, and were going down slowly now, she must have been unconscious for at least a couple of minutes. She gingerly reached up to her head, felling her neck and cranium with her long fingers. She couldn't feel anything untoward.

She should probably get out of the car before the cops showed up. As if on cue, she heard the sound of sirens.

"Shit."

---

The paramedics had checked her out and cleared her, the cops had searched her, and found the joint in her back pocket. That was why she was cuffed to the bench she was sitting on. They'd read her the Miranda rights, slung her in the back of their car, and when they'd got to the station, they called her father.

She looked up when she recognised his footsteps.

"Hey Dad…"

[attr="class","nikki103"]690

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

PHARAOH LEAP.

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[Melvin Newton]

It was a Hollywood myth that people who were arrested always got one phone call. Actually, rules varied widely by jurisdiction, and in this case, it was a police matron that called Melvin as he sat in the chair where he had fallen asleep, waiting for his dinner.

He answered his phone, listened, and face hardened slightly. “I see. Thank you for calling me. I'll be over shortly.”

He stood, picked up his sportcoat from where he had left it on the table, and went to the garage where his BMW was parked. His driving measured, cautious, and scrupulously safe. His mind he did his best to keep silent. He had guesses, of course, and suspicions in plenty, but the call had been short on details and he was resolved to keep an open mind as much as possible.

He parked outside the police station, car under a street lamp that made the blue paint look black and went inside. The walls were surprisingly white; the floor a sort of off gray. There was a woman sitting a desk with a computer and he went over to here.

“I'm Melvin Newton,” he said. “I received a call that my daughter is back there.” He gestured further inside.

“ID?”

He produced it.

“What's your daughter's name?”

“Melody.”

She tapped at her computer. “Holding room 3. Follow me, please.”

He followed her through a metal door painted red and found himself in a hall, wide and clean. To one side he could see offices. In another direction he saw a reinforced door that he guessed led to the cells. They passed a break room, an alcove with vending machines, and two long windows that looked into rooms with benches and people sitting around uncomfortably, some chained in place. There was a room for men and a much smaller one for women. Room 3 was at the very end of the hall. This one was mixed gender, and apparently for minors. Teens sat on uncomfortable looking benches, boys on one side and girls on the other, an annoyed-looking police officer standing watch with his arms cross. It took Melvin a moment to realize what was strange about the scene, and when he did he had to smile slightly. Absolutely none of the teens was on a cell phone.

There was a small table near the door where another police officer sat and a fat woman who Melvin presumed was a child welfare social worker listening to headphones and reading a copy of 50 Shades Freed. The officer at the table looked up as Melvin and his guide came in, and Melvin realized that she was a woman- almost no bust, and hair cut very short.

“Melody Newton,” Melvin's guide said.

The policewoman nodded and stood. The fat woman took her headphones off of one ear and set her gaze firmly on Melvin as the policewoman walked to the back of the room. Here there was one final bench set against the wall, divided into sections by metal partitions that kept the seated separate from each other. In contrast to the rest of the room, everyone sitting on the partitioned bench was restrained in some fashion.

Ah. The difficult cases.

Melody was at the very end of the partitioned bench. Her hands were cuffed in front of her and a chain ran from her left ankle to the underside of the bench. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet. “Hey, dad...”

“Melody,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

The policewoman unlocked the chain at Melody's ankle and led her by the upper arm to the table near the door. The woman who had brought Melvin to the room had produced a clipboard from somewhere and was making marks on the paper, while the fat woman had put her book down and was watching everything through narrowed eyes.

The woman who had led Melvin in slid the clipboard over to him. “Initial here and sign,” she said. Melvin picked up the clipboard, skimming the print. Stolen vehicle... reckless driving... possession of class II restricted substance... he gave a sideways glance at Melody but initialed and signed the paper without any comment.

The policewoman went over to a set of lockers on the other wall, opened one, and came back with a sealed plastic bag. Inside he saw Melody's phone, a few other odds and ends he assumed had come from her pockets, and a piece of paper listing the things they had found that they weren't giving back- 1 Marijuana cigarette. He took took the bag. The policewoman uncuffed Melody's wrists.

The woman from the front desk tore a copy of the paper he'd signed off the clipboard and handed it to him. “You'll get a follow-up in the mail,” she said. “Issues, court dates, anything like that.”

“Thank you,” said Melvin, taking the paper. He glanced at his daughter. “Melody,” he said, nodding at the door.

They went outside. The air was cool and the sky was a sort of washed-out brown from the streetlights. A few insects chirped. It smelled ever so slightly of pollen. He opened Melody's door for her, then went round to his own side, still carrying the plastic bag, and very deliberately set it at his feet instead of on the center console where she could reach. He started the car. Pulled out of the parking space. The engine was quiet, barely audible.

“Well, Melody,” he said as they pulled into the street. “Is there anything you'd like to tell me about what happened tonight?”

Melody Newton

[Melody Newton]

[attr="class","nikki98"]

[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]Melody had been waiting for longer than she reasonably should have. Which was probably the point. There were several other teens in the cell with her, although none of them were the group she'd been in the car with. At least one of them had called the emergency services, the cops had told her in the car on the way to the station. She wasn't sure whether to feel touched or pissed. After all, she'd been uninjured, she could have walked away from the wreck if she'd had an extra few minutes to recover.

At least they hadn't completely abandoned her; she wondered who had chickened out first. She bet Cassandra had called the cops though.

She rubbed her wrists now that the cuffs had been taken off. She was smart enough not to look to her father for sympathy, instead massaging some sensation back into her hands. She winced, she was pretty sure they didn't have to put them on as tight as she had. She was pretty sure that the cops had only done so because of the clearly metahuman colour of her eyes.

It was that he wasn't shouting, she would have preferred it if he was shouting. Things would have been a lot easier if he'd been angry. This cold, even neutrality was the worst thing that could have happened, but it was exactly what she expected. It was what always happened. No matter what. He was always so damned calm, so in control. She felt it was the only tone she ever heard him use.

He barely spoke to her on the way out, and she remained silent, glaring at every cop they walked past. Fantasising idly about setting them on fire as they left. She didn't of course, she might be a delinquent, but she wasn't about to undertake assault.

In the car she stared sullenly out of the window as they pulled out into the road. She didn't appreciate how quiet the engine was, especially when he continued with that damn controlled tone. She wanted to lash out, wanted to scream, shout, fire her eye beams through the windscreen, anything that would make him react in some way other than that calm, even tone.

She knew better. She leaned her forehead across the cool glass of the window. Her tone was morose, "Guess I need some driving lessons…"

[attr="class","nikki103"]395

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

PHARAOH LEAP.

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[Melvin Newton]

His daughter didn't speak as they made their way out, though she made her opinion clear by the glares she threw around on the way out. In her case, looks really could kill, but thankfully she abstained from that. Being angry with her in public would only make her dig her heels in more. He had a difficult path to follow. He wanted to give her space to get through the emotional aspects of it all, but at the same time he needed to express to her that her behavior was not acceptable.

He glanced at her as they pulled out, trying to read her emotions. Anger, as always, which he didn't understand. Frustration, which was a little more comprehensible. Regret, which he supposed was positive. She hadn't intended to wreck a stolen car, at least.

He considered for a second before answering her comment. She'd gotten her learner's permit a few months earlier. "I think your driving is peperfectly fine," he said, giving her a sideways glance. "At least, when you're not under the influence of intoxicating substances."

He sighed. The necessity of getting through the event was finished and his mind was beginning to grapple with the emotional realities of the aftermath: If she'd hit that pole just a little more off-center...

"You do realize, Melody, that this is a very serious issue? You could be facing jail time for this. More importantly-" a slight hitch in his voice, the first break from his calm and controlled tone. "More importantly, you could have been killed."

Melody Newton

[Melody Newton]

[attr="class","nikki98"]

[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]She rolled her eyes at the intoxicating substances jibe. They'd all been high, but she was the one who'd managed to wrap the car around a lamp post. She didn't say it, but she knew how close she'd come to being seriously injured, the fact that she had escaped with nothing worse than a mild concussion was nothing short of a miracle.

"Jeez dad I'm not a fucking idiot."

She knew he hated it when she cussed, it was the primary reason that she did it.

The catch though, she'd noticed that, and she glanced at him for the first time since he'd collected her from the station. His expression hadn't changed, and she wondered briefly if she'd imagined that catch in his tone. She looked away before he could meet her gaze, staring out at the flicker of passing streetlights as they accelerated smoothly down the road.

"Yeah, well I'm not dead and I'm not going to go to jail, I'll get like, community service or something at worst. Fuck you're so dramatic."

She scratched her fingernails against the plastic beneath the window, trying to pretend that she wasn't in the car with her father having just been caught doing something highly illegal. She dearly wished that she hadn't crashed the car, or asked to drive, or helped the guys break into it, or…

It was too late now though, wishes weren't going to change anything, and she knew she would doubtless end up hanging out with them once she'd forgiven them for ditching her. After all, Aidan was the one who hooked her up with weed. Where else was she going to get that. If she hadn't crashed she'd still have that in her back pocket. She wasn't stupid enough to smoke it in the house, but she'd at least have had it if she needed it.

She felt a faint warmth begin to spread across her palms, and tucked them into the sleeves of her hoody, trying not to reveal her discomfort to Melvin. Her pills were in the plastic bag of belongings that the police had confiscated for her stay, and she wasn't going to display weakness to the man that had come to pick her up. She hadn't taken them in too long, and she knew she would regret not saying anything, but she was too stubborn to ask for his help.

[attr="class","nikki103"]397

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

PHARAOH LEAP.

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[Melvin Newton]

He wondered, sometimes, what he could have done differently when Melody was younger to prevent moments like this. Spend more time with her? He had tried. He had come home in the evenings and made sure to talk to her whenever he could- had tried to make weekends available to her. Had it been enough? He didn't know. Perhaps not. Or perhaps he had spent too much time with her, been too overbearing, not permitted enough independence. Had he pushed her too hard, and left her bitter? Had he not pushed her hard enough, and left her purposeless? Or was it simply that a child needed a father and a mother both, and he could only ever be one? He didn't know. He didn't know how to know. The studies and books he had read all seemed limp and useless in the face of these realities.

He let the curse word pass without comment. It was bad behavior, but now was not the time to pile condemnation. It would only shut her down. Really, he thought, this whole conversation would go much better in the morning.

"No, you're certainly not an idiot," he said. He'd seen her IQ scores; her intelligence was not the issue. "Instead, you are choosing behaviors which you know full well are dangerous and potentially destructive, and choosing them anyway, which to my mind is worse. You did read that study I gave you?" It was a new study on the effect of marijuana on developing brains that suggested the drug might cause long-term cognitive deficits. One passage in particular suggested that people with ADHD were particularly at risk. College level reading, or perhaps a bit higher, but he knew she could handle it.

He sighed internally when she said she'd probably get only community service. She was right, of course, but he hated to admit it. She would take it as a sort of endorsement of future behavior along the same lines. Instead he said, "No, you're not dead. But you could have been- easily. So you should take this as a warning and not put yourself in that situation again."

Upset and focused on his driving, he didn't notice the discomfort her condition was beginning to inflict.

Melody Newton

[Melody Newton]

[attr="class","nikki98"]

[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]She'd read the study. She'd been bored. Melvin had confiscated her phone and laptop for some infraction at school, so she'd read one of the few things in her room that she hadn't finished a dozen times already. It had been interesting enough, and for a brief time she'd considered quitting smoking. Then she'd fallen back into those habits, everyone she hung around with did it, it was just easier.

"Yeah yeah, I'm wasting my potential, you've said it before, I get it."

She was trying to be abrasive, but her heart wasn't in it. Tonight had been a shock. Since she'd developed her abilities she'd had a reduced sense of her own mortality, and she'd just been starkly reminded about how vulnerable she really was. She hadn't even had time to throw up a shield, and she wasn't even sure if it would have done anything to help protect her.

No shit. She would do her best not to involve herself in a car crash in the near future, but she knew he meant more than that. He'd never met her friends, but he had at least a rough idea of them thanks to a number of meetings with the Principal, usually with Melody sat outside the office. He'd never explicitly said that she'd fallen in with the wrong crowd, but she was pretty sure he thought it.

Her hands were slowly starting to heat up, she knew it was a result of her condition, but she still found it hard to resist the urge to press them against the air conditioning blowers. The faint burning sensation was starting to spread up her wrists and forearms now, and she shifted a little in her seat.

"Whatever."

That one would not be making her top ten comebacks list. She fell silent, and they drove a little more before she found her voice again. "Thanks… I guess…"

[attr="class","nikki103"]315

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

PHARAOH LEAP.

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[Melvin Newton]

He rarely expressed it to Melody, but at times there was almost a physical reaction to the way she was wasting her potential. She had heard him on that subject before, many times. He held himself back from another lecture, even though part of him wanted to shout, "Yes! You are wasting your potential! And it's horrible!" But he kept his mouth shut. From her words it was clear she was processing what had happened tonight, and her attitude wasn't obviously combative. That was probably the best he could hope for. And to tell the truth, he really had repeated that point to her quite a bit. No doubt it had become a cliche.

When she spoke thanking him he glanced over and studied her. His face softened. When he spoke again his voice was more quiet. "Melody, I... love you."

The hesitation was in his voice when he said it. It was always there, though he didn't notice it any more. A slight hesitation. A pause. It was the clichedness of the expression that did it more than anything. Unoriginal. Repeated everywhere. He did love Melody, with all his heart- but saying it in exactly the same words as everyone else, that was not his style. Still, it was something a parent ought to tell a child, and he did so faithfully, and meant it.

Just with a small pause. Every time.

"More than anything, I'm glad you're safe. Everything else is secondary. We do need to finish talking about this, but we don't have to do it now. Let's get home and get some rest, shall we?" He smiled at her.

In his own small way, he was proud of his parenting here. Giving Melody some space to think, to grow- surely that was best. She was an intelligent girl. He smiled. The morning would bring something better.

The plastic bag stayed at his feet. He assumed that if she wanted her medication, she would ask for it.

When they got home he took her upstairs, setting the alarm when they were inside. He had set a new alarm code before leaving for the police station- he might be optimistic about her prospects, but he didn't intend to make it easy on her to sneak out. When they got to her room he took her phone from the bag and put it in his pocket and handed her the bag with the rest of her things. Her laptop was on her desk and he went over to that and unplugged it, taking it under his arm. With his other he offered her a hug. "Good night, Melody. I... love you."

He left to go to his own room, pausing only long enough to set a password on the television before going to bed.

Melody Newton

[Melody Newton]

[attr="class","nikki98"]

[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]There was always that pause, and Melody didn't know why. It drove her mad. Other parents could just say it. No pause, no hesitation. It was as if there was something else he was thinking about when he said it. Like he didn't really mean it, or something that was making him doubt whether he did.

This had bothered her since she'd been old enough to recognise the catch in his voice. Like she wasn't quite good enough for him to love her fully, like he was expecting something more from her. Her mother had died years ago, but people always told her how much she looked like her. Yet wasn't her. Maybe that was it, she was just a pale reflection of the woman her father had actually loved.

She stared out of the window. Not even responding to his question, her sullen expression enough of an answer. She was still like that when they pulled into the drive way, and she started as the engine of the car stopped. Maybe it was lucky her eyes were silver, with Melody the phrase look right through you was rather more accurate than usual.

She noticed the new alarm code, not enough to see what it was, but enough to know it had been changed. It wasn't a surprise, nor was the quiet confiscation of her phone and laptop.

She stared at his offer of a hug for a moment, half wanting to hug him tight, half wanting to simply turn her back on him. She compromised, and returned it with a one armed hug of her own, squeezing just a little. Then he said it again, and she stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself. She tightened her grip on the bag in her grip, refusing to take out her pills until he left, then doing so almost manically once he shut the door.

She sat down on the bed in relief, despite knowing that it would take some time for the medication to kick in. Her hands and arms felt like they were on fire, even to hug her dad had been searing agony. She whimpered as she heard him going to bed, and didn't move until she felt the drugs finally start to take effect.

---

Melody had not slept well, and the deep shadows beneath her eyes gave it away. As did her foul mood. She managed to shower and dress without hearing anything from her father, or seeing him, but he was waiting for her as she came down the stairs, wet hair dripping onto her top.

[attr="class","nikki103"]431

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

NOTES

Were you waiting for me?

PHARAOH LEAP.

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[Melvin Newton]

Melvin had a set daily routine and rarely varied up. Up with first light, to the gym, a healthy breakfast, and off to work. He had found the set of actions that served optimally for him, and almost never saw reason to vary it.

Today, however, he did. He was up at the usual time, but instead of leaving for the gym he stayed downstairs, leafing through a sheaf of papers. He would go to work late today, if he went at all. He had slept well, if for only a short time, but he kept the look of tiredness from his face. He had slept alone in the king-sized bed upstairs for the better part of fifteen years, and still he stayed strictly on his own side. When he woke up, he would always glance just for a moment at the great empty space next to him.

He checked the pantry, found a box of pancake mix, and began cooking. There were some blueberries in the freezer and he added those to the batter, cooking two plates and covering one with aluminum foil. The packet in front of him had come to his email early this morning. The front page showed a smiling teen face with the note- Focus copy Not for public distribution. He flipped through it, frowning as he read, then pushed it aside and stared at the wall, eyes distant. A notification popped up on his phone. It was about time for Melody to take her morning medication. Not taking it usually made her miserable enough that he didn't worry about her forgetting, but he kept the notifications all the same.

He heard her feet on the stairs a few minutes later. Glancing up he saw her coming down, barefoot and with hair wet. He tried to smile. He didn't do a very good job.

“Good morning, Melody,” he said, motioning for her to come over. He put an arm around her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before letting her go. His gaze lingered on her eyes with their unusual colors. He so badly wanted to get her into his laboratory and run tests on her ability. So many secrets, just waiting to be unlocked! Changing eye color was fascinating by itself; with the abilities that came with it it was incalculably intriguing. The itch to study, to understand seized him as he studied her, though he kept himself from bringing it up again. Their previous discussions on that issue... had not gone well. Suffice to say that Melody had strong feelings about being treated as a lab rat. Perhaps as a punishment- no, she would see it as him using her behavior as an excuse to indulge himself. All the parenting books said it was important that discipline not be arbitrary or capricious.

“I made you pancakes,” he said, pointing at the covered plate. “Have a seat. Did you sleep well?”

Once she was situated he looked at her with an expression that meant he had something to say to her. “I've been thinking about last night, Melody, and I've come to a decision about how you can earn your phone and laptop back. Last night, you made a certain choice, and it had a certain outcome, and while you didn't want that outcome I trust you saw it as a possibility. I don't approve of that choice, but the truth is you're old enough that in a few years I won't have the right to tell you what to do one way or the other. So my job is to make sure you understand enough that, at a minimum, which choice you make in the future is an informed one. Now, I think you're well aware of the harm you might do yourself with those choices, so I don't see any need to repeat that. But it's not just yourself you might hurt, and I want you to make sure you understand that. So, Melody, I want you to write an essay. By hand. Neatly. At least 1200 words. I want you to write it on why having a coherent social fabric is important, and why acts that undermine the social fabric are harmful. You don't have to believe what you write- but I want you to demonstrate that you understand the argument. Do a good job, and you'll get your phone and computer back.”

He let that sink in before reaching for the papers in front of him. “There is also the small matter of your possible future court date. I got an email from George Childs- the Hero program liaison for the MNRU, remember?- and he sent me this. They're planning on establishing an academy for young metahumans like yourself. It's in Washington State George suggested that some deal could probably be reached where you go there instead of going through a court proceeding. I'm not sure how I feel about the idea, but I wanted to at least show it to you.”

Melody Newton

[Melody Newton]

[attr="class","nikki98"]

[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]Normally her father would have been at the gym, leaving Melody to prepare her own breakfast and go to school. That was her normal routine, and mostly she stuck to it. As long as she took her medication things usually followed that pattern, although frequently she got up too late to have a proper breakfast, and settled with a rushed bite on her way out of the door. She moved obediently over to him, letting him hug her, but not making any particular effort to return the gesture of affection. Medication or not, she was not in a good mood. Taking it late last night had meant that she hadn't been able to get to sleep until well after Melvin had gone to bed. She'd made sure to take it this morning.

The smell of blueberry pancakes filled the air, and Melody had to strive not to look like she was particularly enamoured at the thought of fresh pancakes for breakfast. In truth she was starving, and took a seat readily, pulling the foil off the plate slowly, in an attempt to look like she wasn't grateful for the food. Her less than disgruntled, "Thanks," gave the game away though.

She shrugged at the question, "Alright I guess. You?"

She didn't look at him as he continued to talk, instead focusing on the pancakes in front of her and rolling her eyes as the lecture began. They were good, even if they'd been made with pancake mix, and it was all she could do to resist wolfing them down as if she hadn't eaten in days. Instead she did her best to pick at them as if they were just barely passable, though her deception was likely entirely transparent to her father thanks to how quickly the pancakes were disappearing.

This wouldn't be the first time she had received this lecture or some variant of it, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. She looked up sharply as he suggested an essay. "What? You want me to write an essay?"

She was about to tell him exactly where he could stick his essay when he placed her phone and laptop on the line. Instead of another outburst, she subsided into sullen silence, really picking at her pancakes this time. Intellectually she could understand the validity of his decision. Even if she hated doing it, arguing for his point of view would undoubtedly make her think about it. No doubt he would expect sources and citations backing up her arguments, which would no doubt mean time spent in the library since he still had her laptop.

"When's it due?" She asked sarcastically.

The brochure, printed from her father's email she assumed, looked like an early version of what would surely one day be a glossy brochure for the Evergreen Metahuman Boarding Academy. She slapped it back down on the table after only a few pages.

"Are you kidding? You're really fucking considering this aren't you?"

He wanted to send her away, get her out of his hair. It was just like him to try and remove his distractions, if that's all she was to him. She felt her eyes begin to tear up, and blinked furiously. This was like that fucking hesitation, and all the giving her a choice when he had already made a decision. Her eyes already shifting to amber in response to her distress.

Like herself. He meant troublemakers, kids that didn't fit in. Kids that caused their parents too much trouble. She pushed the booklet roughly back across the table, not caring about the condition she left it in.

"I can't believe this is even an option for you."

She laughed once, despairingly, "Who am I kidding. Of course it is. Get me out of your hair. Stop embarrassing you, at least I'd be in a different state and you wouldn't have to see me every day."

She stood up angrily, palming roughly at her eyes. "I'm going to school."

[attr="class","nikki103"]665

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

NOTES

Sorry I'm not Mom!

PHARAOH LEAP.

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[Melvin Newton]

To tell the truth, the boarding school wasn't an option that Melvin had really considered.

It just seemed extreme, really; at heart, Melody was not a bad child, simply one undergoing some difficulties. And who could blame her, really, with the usual stresses of teenagehood and no mother in her life to help her. He had mentioned it only because it was an option, and, validity aside, all options should be on the table. For completeness, of course. He had been confident Melody would reject the idea, and that, in all likelihood, would be the end of it.

So he was entirely unprepared for the fury that burst from her almost before he had finished the words. It took him off guard, leaving him suddenly at a loss for words. "What? No, it was because- Melody, that's not what I-"

But he couldn't find words in time, and a moment later he was alone again, staring at her plate left on the table. The force of her fury- and yes, of her pain, too, startled him. It had only been an option. How could she think he was trying to get rid of her? Did she trust him that little?

He stared at the plate she'd left on the table, sticky with syrup. He opened his mouth to call for her to put it away, but hesitated. Would she just see that as another incitement? Another reason to get angry from his overbearing exactitude? Then again, what if the problem was that she wasn't being required to take enough responsibility? What if putting it away for her just exasperated it?

He hesitated, wavering between his options. He suddenly felt a surge of frustration. He was a scientist. He'd solved problems of protein folds and brain chemistry and partially infinite mathematics. And this was the problem he couldn't solve? A fifteen year old girl?

For the past months as Melody had acted out her rebellion, he had kept himself carefully controlled. Restrained. Trusting that this phase, too, would pass, that with a touch of reason and giving her time to think things through it would all be over. Now he had a horrible vision of it all being a complete failure. He imagined years going by, the tensions between them unresolved. The anger undulled. It filled his heart with a sudden and deep fear.

He stood, worry clouding his face. He walked to the front hall and stood there a moment and caught his daughter on the way out.

"Goodbye, Melody," he said. "Have a good day. I... love you."

And she waa gone. He stood alonw by the stairs, staring off into space. His hands clenched into fists by his side. They began to tremble.

How dare she. How dare she treat him like this. Couldn't she see that he was giving her every possible space? Every possible indulgence? He'd tried so hard to be reasonable, to find that thin balance between being overbearing and being independent. He'd gone over his conduct with a microscope, seeking every improvement he could. And had it helped? No. Still this rebellion, still this fury.

It wasn't his fault. He'd looked over his actions and he couldn't find one thing he should have done differently. He'd followed the books and his own sense to the letter. Nobody could have asked him for more. No. There was no point in examining himself any further. If he couldn't find his own fault, the logical conclusion was that he wasn't at fault.

Melody was. This was entirely her doing.

He stood at the base of the stairs a moment longer. Then, glancing up, he set his jaw and began to walk upwards. Slowly. He went down the hall and came, as always, to Melody's room. He paused with his hand on the knob. Was this a good idea? Truly? Then he rallied himself, pushed the door aside, and went in.

He searched every inch of her room. He looked in every drawer, in every corner of her closest, under the mattress, in the corners where the carpet might come up and leave a space for hiding things. Nothing was left unturned. Every so often an internal voice would ask if this was such a good idea, but he pushed it aside. He was her father. He had a right, no, a duty, to do this. To know what was inside.

When he was done he stared at the objects he had found, neither frustrated nor upset but grimly accepting. It would have been better, he thought, if she had had nothing. But now he couldn't let this stand. He had to do something.

So it was that when Melody returned from school that day, he was sitting in the living room, objects laid on the coffee table in front of him.

"Hello, Melody," he said, motioning at the table. "Sit down. Let's talk about these."

Melody Newton

[Melody Newton]

[attr="class","nikki98"]

[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]Melody didn’t pause for her father in the hall. Rushing roughly past him, though without actually going to the extent of pushing him out the way. She didn’t look at him, but she heard his voice, that careful, controlled tone. It almost inspired another outburst from her. And then again, that hesitation. She was not going to cry in front of her father.

”Whatever Dad.”

She started down the path, looking once over her shoulder back at the house. Melvin wasn’t in the doorway, or at one of the windows. She set her jaw and turned back in the direction she was walking. There was no way she was going to go back and talk to him about what had just happened. He was smart, he could work it out for himself.

The day passed without much in the way of interest, the school had found out about the incident of course, and she had been called in to see the Vice-Principal, as well as enduring the whispers and stares of her classmates. Alex and Aidan all avoided her gaze in the corridor. Of course they did, they’d ditched her in the car for the cops to find. Cassandra tried to explain, and Melody realised that she had probably been the one that had dialled 911. She wasn’t in any mood to talk to the girl that had called the cops on her, even if it had been out of concern, so she left her looking distressed and upset in the middle of the corridor.

She hadn’t gone out at lunch, she’d stayed in to work on the essay instead. She was pissed with her father, but she wanted her phone and laptop back, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think that further defiance would get her what she wanted. It was relatively easy, 1200 words wasn’t exactly long, and the subject wasn’t particularly challenging, but she had to do the research as well. She’d be finished tomorrow, or tonight if she worked on it at home, so she made some notes from the books she’d collected.

At least her Dad would still be at work when she got home.

He wasn’t, he was sat in the living room. Then her eyes were drawn to the small collection of objects on the table. Objects she recognised. Her jaw tightened.

”You’ve been in my room.”

She didn’t sit down.

”So other than invading my privacy, had a good day Dad?”

Her tone was sarcastic, accusatory. She knew there was nothing he could say to argue against it, but equally there was nothing she could say. The objects arrayed on the coffee table seemed to be accusing her as much as he was. A small Ziploc bag of marijuana, filters and cigarette paper, two condoms. She’d never used the condoms, but she knew that wasn’t what her father would be thinking now that he’d found them.

[attr="class","nikki103"]484

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

PHARAOH LEAP.

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[Melvin Newton]

For the past several hours, Melvin's mind had focused on tbis confrontation. He had played it out from dozens of angles, statements, possible responses. And yet, for all that, he had hardly spent any time deciding what he would say. It had been too theoretical. Whatever words he came up with always seemed too inflexible, too flimsy.

He didn't know what he'd been hoping for from Melody. Some form of regret, probably. A glimmer of self-awareness, certainly. Instead what he got was an angry face and a comment about invading her privacy.

Privacy? Invading her privacy? She was on her way to ruining herself for no reason, and she was talking about privacy? A billowing fury seemed to seize him. How could she be so myopic? It was no longer primarily about the drugs. It was about the attitude, the blasted stubbornness and absolute refusal to even try and look at things a different way. She was steering the ship of her life directly towards the rocks- to spite him? Why? Why, for the love of god, why?

"Privacy," he said, and his voice was cold and harsh. "Rights, Melody, are for people who don't abuse them. You don't get to preach cannibalism and call it freedom of religion. And you don't get to drive your life into a ditch and then claim that privacy prevents me from interfering. Sit down."

Melody Newton

[Melody Newton]

[attr="class","nikki98"]

[attr="class","nikki99"]

I NEED TO COME DOWN

[attr="class","nikki100"]

[attr="class","nikki101"]SEEMS LIKE THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD WENT AND LOST ITS MIND

[attr="class","nikki102"]AND ALL MY CHILDHOOD HEROES HAVE FALLEN OFF OR DIED

[attr="class","nikki109"]Melody sat down.

She’d never heard that tone in his voice. He hadn’t even seemed this angry when she’d been caught smoking on school grounds, or when he discovered that she’d raided his liquor cabinet. He temperature of his voice seemed to carry into the room, her hands felt cold, and she knew it wasn’t because of the medication she’d just taken.

She tried to speak; and couldn’t. She tried to look at him; but couldn’t do anything other than stare fixedly straight ahead. She wanted to get up and say something back, to shout at him, scream at him, anything to make her feel better. She didn’t know what to say, for once in her teenage life she was bereft of words, without an answer. She looked at the items spread across the surface of the coffee table like suspects in a line-up. They had been concealed in different areas of her room, she wasn’t stupid, but right now she could only imagine that finding more and more damning evidence had only contributed to her father’s apoplexy.

She blinked hard. She was not going to cry in front of her father. Even so, her eyes shimmered softly, the silver of her irises seeming to grow stronger. She could feel a pressure in her chest, like there was something squirming to get out, and she couldn’t control it.

"Dad…"

Her voice cracked, and she stopped, still not looking at him. She could feel the heat in her face as her cheeks flushed, and she looked up, anger blazing in her eyes as the shimmering resolved itself into flickering amber irises.

"It’s my life Dad! And we both know the only reason you give a damn is because it’s embarrassing. You can’t deal with the fact that I might not be as bright as you, that I might be an embarrassment to your academic record."

Her fists clenched in anger, and her eyes flared brighter, "Maybe you should just fucking send me away then. At least I wouldn’t have to see you. And then I’d stop reminding you that I’m not mom!"

[attr="class","nikki103"]351

[attr="class","nikki103"]Melvin Newton

[attr="class","nikki103"]Eau de Resistance

NOTES

Things come to a head...

PHARAOH LEAP.

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