This was my nonwinning entry into a local writing competition. I was proud of how it turned out.

Fireproof

The bitter February air stings as they open the door from Heartland Middle School. 

“I hate getting my braces tightened.” Joplin Henry complains to her mother.

“I know. But you only have five months left and then you’ll be free. I’ll take you to the mall and we can get bubble tea and a treat after,” her mother replies.

Joplin skips a little toward the car and urges her mother to hurry up and warm up the car. It’s freezing.

They make their way to Dr. Grossman’s office, and the office staff greet Joplin and remind her to brush her teeth in the back sink before she is seen. Her mother waits for her in the waiting room and flips through the latest National Geographic on the secret genius of cats. She is thankful for the break from work and doesn’t mind taking the rest of the afternoon off to spend with Joplin. The teen years haven’t hit full throttle yet, but she knows they are coming. She had been so cruel to her own mother during those turbulent years, she dreaded what karma had in store for her in retribution.

Fifteen minutes later Joplin appears before her mother, her fingers in her mouth trying to provide some counterpressure to the newly tightened brackets. “Ready?” she asks. Her mother nods in reply and reminds her to use her token in the trinket machine they had for patients. Joplin smiles when she gets a mini rubber duck. “Quack” she says as she holds the duck up to her mother’s face. Her mother had always appreciated Joplin’s whimsy—she could be a silly girl sometimes.

On the drive to the Bristlehead Mall, they listen to their Songs that Make You Jam Spotify playlist. Joplin happily chats about school, the annoying boy David Hanover who had the locker above her and would purposely drop his books on her, her hopes of opening a bakery one day, and how she couldn’t wait to eat gummy bears again. Her mother listens, nodding along as she shares her dreams.

The mall isn’t busy. It is too cold to go out for long and school hasn’t let out yet—people are at home or at work. They open the doors and head straight for the chocolate store. Her mother remembers visits with her own mother to the chocolate shop when she was little. She used to love looking at all of the beautiful truffles and chocolate dipped fruit. And in her youth, it was always such a difficult decision picking which one piece of chocolate to select when she wanted to try them all. Joplin, however, had no problem. She loved to try new things so almost always picked the monthly special. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, Joplin eagerly requests February’s Strawberry Ganache. Her mother chooses her usual vanilla bean truffle, and they take their bag and head toward Hot Topic, savoring the truffles on the way. 

Hot Topic is running a bogo sale and Joplin peruses the piercing selection. “Please can I get my nose pierced?” Joplin begs her mother. Her mother sighs “When you are eighteen you can do as you please, but over my dead body before then. Why do you want to mess with perfection?” Her mother is not prepared for the dark cloud that comes over Joplin’s face. “I’m not perfection. Why do you say stupid stuff like that?” The mood has soured and Joplin mindlessly runs her fingers along the graphic t-shirts as her mother keeps a respectful distance. Her mother suggests bubble tea to ease the tension and Joplin just shrugs, which her mother takes as a sign to move in that direction.

They pass the kiosks, dodging the vendors hawking their wares, and order at Happy Sugar Tea. They wait silently as the worker fills the cups and then runs it through the special sealing machine, handing them their straws. They pierce the seals with the straws and her mother says, “Hey, look at that, you got it right in the middle. Nice job!” The corner of Joplin’s mouth lifts a little, so her mother takes the opportunity to apologize. “I’m sorry if I put too much pressure on you. I don’t mean to. You, of course, are free to do as you wish with your body. I just want you to wait until you are older and can understand the consequences of your actions.” 

“Okay,” Joplin responds awkwardly. 

They head to the mall exit and back into the frigid weather. Her mother clicks the button on the car and they climb into the little blue Kia Soul. Spotify starts up immediately from their previous jam session and her mother rushes to turn the volume down as she notices Joplin cringing from the sudden loud music. 

“We have to stop by the store on the way home for dinner. Wanna do $5 Sushi Wednesday?” 

“That’s fine” Joplin says, noncommittantly.

There are storm clouds in the sky moving in from the east. They drive down the highway toward the County Market in silence, the faint sounds of Lana Del Rey crooning on the radio at low volume. Joplin looks out the window at the familiar scenery. Her mother notices the rain has started on the other side of the median. It is pouring on the eastbound lanes of the highway and hasn’t crossed onto their side of the road yet, the stretch in front of them is bone dry. 

Suddenly Joplin speaks up, “Turn it up, please. I love this song.” Her mother obliges and the chorus of One Direction’s “Fireproof” hits. “‘Cause nobody knows you, baby, the way I do. And nobody loves you, baby, the way I do…” They sing along, the music bringing them together. She looks at Joplin and puts her hand on her knee and lovingly shakes it. Joplin doesn’t recoil.

Her mother turns on her headlights as the rain crosses the median and the first drops begin to fall on the windshield. They will be okay.