"What do I have to do to make you see, Papa? I don' wan' learn how to do dis...I'm not you!" Thirteen year old Carson Lapin exclaimed angrily before storming out of the room, leaving his father, Emil, sitting at the computer with his head in his hands.
"Non...you sure ain'..." Emil muttered. "I can' teach your mother dis stuff either..."
The sound of an amused chuckle in the doorway made Emil look up. He sighed as he saw his cousin, Theoren, leaning there with a bemused look on his face. Theoren was learning to appreciate the funny things in life as he got older, and seeing Emil frustrated over his son was really something to enjoy. "Problems, kiddo?"
Emil groaned. "He's thirteen. I'm forty-two, much as I hate to admit it. An' he's drivin' me crazy!"
Theoren laughed harder and sat down. "I know. I've been waitin' for dis since de day dat boy was born. I only have one t'ing to say to you, my dear little cousin, an' dat is dis: welcome to my life."
"Tell me I didn' put you t'rough dis kinda stuff, Theo, please..." Emil begged.
"Worse." Theoren grinned. "But de diff'rence is, you wanted to learn 'bout computers an' stuff."
Emil was quiet for a few moments, considering. He cracked his quirky smile and started laughing. "I shoulda known when he was born dat if anyone's gon' be able to teach him somethin' he wants to learn, it's Jackie. An' Remy. So dat leaves me wit' Mattie, who not only looks like me, acts like me, talks like me..."
"She's also a computer whiz jus' like you."
Emil and Theoren looked up to see the bright cheerful smile of Emil and Jackie's fifteen-year-old daughter Mattie, who tilted her head to one side, her thick red hair cascading over her shoulder. "What were you tryin' to teach him, anyway?" she asked, her blue eyes sparkling and bright as snapped her gum and flopped down on a nearby chair.
"How to make one of dose hackin' programs I used to make all de time." Emil explained.
"Ah." Mattie grinned. "You mean like dis?" She got up and after her father moved away from the computer, she tapped on a few keys, and in no time flat opened a program. Codes scrolled down the screen in seconds and Mattie stood back, allowing both her father and her cousin Theo, both of whom were computer experts, to take a look. Theoren was the first to comment.
"Mattie...did you...?"
"Yup. It's easy. No challenge at all. I'm takin' computer courses at school, but dey're not teachin' me anythin' I don' already know so it's borin'. So I went t'rough some of Papa's old files an' taught myself how to do it. It's de first one I've tried, so dere's a few bugs in it...but maybe you guys can teach me how to fix it so it's perfect?"
Emil looked at his daughter when he was finished reading the program. "Dis is really good for a first try, Mattie, I'm impressed. An' I'd be glad to help you fix it up."
"T'anks Papa. I 'preciate it. What 'bout you Theo? You wan' help too?" Mattie asked.
Theoren looked from Emil to Mattie, still amazed by how similar they were, and shook his head. "I'd love to, kiddo, but Claude an' I promised Mercy an' Zoe we'd take 'em to de mall an' it's gettin' to be dat time. May I take a look at it when you're finished, t'ough?"
"Of course!" Mattie laughed. "Who else would give de official seal of approval?"
"If Theo's givin' his seal of approval, it better be on somethin' de girls are buyin' at de mall." Jackie said, coming in. "Mattie, sit up straight for cryin' out loud. Theo, dey're waitin' on ya, get goin'." When Theoren left, Jackie turned to her husband. "Now. What on earth were you sayin' to Carson?"
"Nothin', Jacks. Jus' took me awhile to get it t'rough my thick skull dat he don' wan' know much 'bout computers. I'll go talk to him, I promise." Emil replied. "Look at what our daughter did! Dis is amazin' for a first time try."
Jackie looked at the code and sighed. "Yeah, it's amazin'." She said, ruffling her daughter's hair. "I'm very proud of you. Jus' don' ask me to explain it, b'cause I don' have a clue what I'm lookin' at."
Mattie rolled her eyes and laughed. "Aww Mom, stop it! My hair is fine. An' it's okay. Don' worry 'bout it. Long as Papa understands it, dat's what matters."
"I didn' come here to look at codes, Mattie. Did you forget dat you were gon' go to dat dance wit' Cheryl and J.P. tonight?" Jackie asked her daughter.
It was Mattie's turn to sigh. She really didn't want to go. She was a bit of a loner in school, she mainly hung out with Cheryl and J.P. and the other kids in her family; her classmates tended to leave her alone. "I don' really wan' go, but J.P. said he wouldn' go if I didn', an' Cheryl refuses to go by herself, even t'ough I don' see what her problem is, so I kinda have to..."
"Why doesn' J.P. wan' go?" Emil asked, knowing the answer before the question was asked. Jean-Pierre Alouette, the sixteen-year-old son of his best friend Genard, was as much like his father as Mattie was like Emil. He was shy. He and Mattie were very close friends, and it didn't surprise either Emil or Jackie that J.P. had claimed he wouldn't go without Mattie.
"You know de answer to dat, Papa." Mattie replied. "I know you do, b'cause you know Genard better'n most people do. I don' see why Cheryl can' go by herself. It's not like she needs us."
"What does dat mean?" Jackie asked.
"Nothin'. Jus' forget it. If you see J.P. tell him to meet me in my room in fifteen minutes." Mattie said. "Papa, can we start workin' on dis tomorrow?"
"Sure, chere, No problem. Jus' let me know when you wan' start."
Mattie nodded and left the room. Her parents looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Jackie's strange violet-on-black eyes plainly showed how concerned she was over her daughter's behavior. "What was dat all 'bout?"
"If she's anythin' like I was at her age...you've got nothin' to worry 'bout, mon amour. I turned out fine. She will too. Although I t'ink she an' J.P. should go to de dance for demselves, not b'cause Cheryl wants dem to go." Emil replied, giving his wife a hug. "Mattie's right, Cheryl doesn' need 'em. She's Cheryl. But I t'ink she has good intentions too, for what it's worth to de kids."
In another area of the house, a beautiful sixteen-year-old girl threw her brush across her bedroom and screamed in frustration. Her dark eyes were stormy; she was about ready to tear her long, thick dark hair from her scalp. It just refused to co-operate. Her scream sent her father in from the another room. He paused at the doorway once he realized his daughter wasn't in any danger, and he leaned there, watching her for a moment before speaking.
"Cheryl, what's wrong?"
The slim young woman turned and looked at her father. She had known, instinctively, that he was there, so his words didn't startle her. She sighed and then looked back at the mirror. "I can' get it right."
"Your hair?" Fifolet asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Oui. It has to be perfect...de dance is in an hour! It has to be perfect..." Cheryl's voice trailed off. She caught her father's gaze through the mirror and sighed again. "Why did Mama have to take Sebastien an' Reilly to dat stupid movie? She could help me."
Fifolet laughed. "Your mother took Sebastien an' Reilly to de movie b'cause dey wanted to go an' Questa couldn' take dem. An' what am I, chopped liver? Or haven' you noticed dat you didn' get your hair from jus' your mother?"
"I know, I know...but you never do anythin' wit' your hair. How can you fix mine?" Cheryl groaned. "We don' have much time."
"Oh now, I don' know..."Fifolet deadpanned, crossing to where the brush had fallen and picking it up, his own long, dark hair falling over his shoulders as he did so. "Trust me, ma fille. Trust me. If you don' like what I do wit' it, you can go ask Bella Donna to help you, okay?"
Cheryl sat in the chair at her dresser with a sigh of resignment and nodded. "Okay."
Twenty minutes and much silent cursing later, Fifolet spun the chair around and allowed his daughter to see the final result. Cheryl's eyes widened as she looked in the mirror. "Oh Papa! I didn' know you could do dat! It's perfect!"
"Been watchin' your mother do her hair for a long, long time. I've never actually done it b'fore myself, but I picked up on a few t'ings from watchin' her. Dat's all." Fifolet admitted. "Does it meet wit' your ideals for de dance?"
"I already said it was perfect, Papa, t'ank you!" Cheryl exclaimed, throwing her arms around her father excitedly. "Now de dance will be perfect too! Now...if J.P. an' Mattie could be perfect tonight too...it would be brilliant."
"Cheryl..." Fifolet began.
"Oh Papa, gimme a break. Dey're dull, quiet, borin' an' really quite geeky. I can' expect anythin' more or less from dem. Dat's jus' who dey are. It's annoyin'. No one likes 'em at school, I don' see why dey're goin' anyway." Cheryl commented lightly, smiling brightly as she finished her makeup. Fifolet knew his daughter very well, and knew she meant every word she said.
"Den why are you insistin' dat dey go? Why humiliate dem in front of de whole school jus' to make yourself look good?" he asked, just as lightly. Neither one of them realized they were being listened to from outside the room.
"Dat's it exactly. Dey're dull, I'm not. If dey're wit' me, people will notice me more b'cause I'll stand out 'gainst dem." Cheryl admitted cheerfully, not caring that she was being extremely superficial. She was beautiful and she knew it. She didn't see any reason not to use it to her full advantage.
Fifolet suddenly sensed a presence in the dark shadows of the hallway outside his daughter's room and he looked at the door. He wasn't surprised to find a pair of piercing yellow eyes looking back at him, glowing in anger. "Do you need somethin', Carson?" he asked, deciding to just get the confrontation he knew was coming over with.
The lanky thirteen-year-old emerged from the shadows. He reminded Fifolet of long-ago days before the once rival Thieves and Assassins Guilds joined into one guild, back when Carson's uncle Remy LeBeau was a teenager. They looked almost identical, same unruly auburn hair, same haunting eyes. Only Remy's eyes were red-on-black while Carson's were yellow in color. Fifolet wondered, not for the first time, just where in the gene pool the yellow came from, as the teen stood before them. After all, Emil's eyes were blue, and Jackie's were purple. Yellow didn't seem to fit, yet it fit Carson perfectly.
"You're usin' 'em. Simply to make yourself look good. Neither one of dem wants to go an' dey shouldn' have to." Carson said to Cheryl, his voice quiet. "How selfish can you be?"
Cheryl stared at the younger teen, her brown eyes clouding over with animosity. She and Carson had never gotten along, mainly because he tended to confront her about things, while J.P. and Mattie usually went along with things for the sake of peace. One thing that irked Cheryl about Carson more than anything was the fact that her own thirteen-year-old brother, Sebastien, was the mutant teen's best friend. "I don' have to answer to you for anythin' Carson. Mind your own business."
"Actually, I am mindin' my own business." Carson replied, remaining calm and as unconfrontational as possible. He wasn't afraid of Fifolet, in spite of the man's reputation as a trained professional killer, but he didn't want to cause any problems within the Guild family. "My sister is my business. So is J.P. All I'm sayin' is, I don' t'ink you should be usin' dem like dis. Dere's no reason why you can' go to de dance by yourself an' you know it. Please don' humiliate dem. We're s'posed to be a fam'ly, 'member?"
Cheryl sighed and headed for the door. "Yeah whatever. You wouldn' understand. Why didn' you go to de movies wit' de others so you could leave me alone?" She left the room, leaving Carson and her father staring at each other, dumbfounded, not entirely sure where the mood-swings were coming from.
"For what it's worth, I agree wit' you, kid." Fifolet commented. "But I t'ink it's somethin' de three of dem have to work out for demselves."
"Yeah...I jus' hope it's not at someone's expense, y'know?" Carson agreed.