Page 16 of Cocky Secrets

Her free hand sweeps across the room, “Whatever is going on here, I’ll leave you to it,” and she rolls her case out through the kitchen door. “I’m home! Oh, what’s that smell? Melody is going to be jealous!”

“I am not!” Melody huffs, adding under her breath, “Nothing is better than my cooking. I’ve got no reason to be jealous!”

I can see their energy shifted the room’s atmosphere, and I take a breath, grateful for the funny interruption so I can come up with new ways to convince Mom. “We were just talking about motorcycles,” I tell Melody, trying to keep my tone light. “Dad plans to get me one!”

Her eyes widen, and she runs a hand through blonde hair. “Are you really getting Sage a motorcycle? That’s so cool!”

“I wouldn’t call it exactlycool,” Mom interjects, voice firm. “It’s a dangerous idea.”

Melody exclaims as if Mom is being ridiculous, “It’s a Harley! They’re tanks!”

I smile, feeling a surge of hope. “See? Melody gets it!”

“Melody doesn’t understand the dangers,” Mom argues, brows knitting together. “She doesn’t know how scatterbrained your artistic mind can be! You all need to realize this isn’t a game. Sage is…”

“What! What am I?!”

Mom tilts her head, hoping I’ll understand. “You’re very innocent, honey.”

“Whose fault is that?!”

Dad has been silent for a long time, face twisted in frustration. He’s caught between not wanting to piss Mom offand having no idea how to do that while still getting me what he wants. A hog of my own. “Meg,” he begins.

She cries out, “No nono!” slapping the dish towel against her thigh.

“Mom, it’s not just about the motorcycle. It’s about freedom! I’m responsible,” I argue, my heart pounding in my ears. “It’s my life, and I need to take control of it. You can’t keep me from experiencing things just because you’re scared. And I don’t like being called scatterbrained!”

Melody looks between us, voice impatient as she asks, “Can’t you just let her try it, Meg? You’re being too careful with her. Sage is right. She needs…wait. What about her bicycle? I saw it by the oak tree. Are the tires flat? We can get new tires.”

I roll my eyes. “My brothers say it’s too slow to escape from if someone decided to snatch me up.”

“Who’s going to snatch you up out here?”

“That’s what I said! But now I want a Harley. It takes forever to get into town when I need to get groceries.” I leave out,and my paints,not wanting to bring up what seems to be jailing me — my so-called artistic, distracted mind. “This will be better.”

Melody offers, “You can usemycar, Sage.”

“I couldn’t when you went away just now!”

“Yes, but I’m rarely gone.”

“You’re not helping!”

Mom sighs, “I just want what’s best for you. I have to check on my spaghetti.”

“I’ll come with you!” Melody explodes.

Mom laughs, “Of course you will,” and they disappear.

I turn to Dad now that it’s just the two of us. He gives me a disgruntled nod, and I realize this fight isn’t over yet. Deep down, I know the road ahead won’t be easy, but my battle for freedom has just begun.

EIGHT

Sage

The smell of morning coffee wafts through the air as I sit by myself at the kitchen table, and take a sip. Dad walks in, a grin plastered across his face. There’s something about that look, a glint of mischief in his eyes, that makes my heart race with anticipation.

“Hey Sage,” he says, strong hands dropping onto the table, weight leaned on them, muscles huge from fighting and training, even at his age. “You’ll never guess what I found in town.”

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