Rivals (Page 15)
Maggie stormed into the house and slammed the door. Grandma was waiting for her, probably with another list of rules, but she went straight to her room and slammed the door there, too. As she had been warned Grandma had removed the speakers from her computer desk. There were bare wires hanging over the edge of the desk - instead of unplugging them properly, Grandma must have cut them with a pair of scissors. Maggie howled in rage and tore open her desk drawer looking for her headphones.
If she didn't get some music soon, something to channel her rage, she was going to explode. It was that simple.
There was a knock on her door. Maggie ignored it. She found her headphones and shoved them into her ears, hard enough to hurt. Sat down at her desk and booted up her computer. She had twenty-three emails waiting and new friend requests on Facebook but she didn't want to talk to anybody - she needed to be alone, more than she ever had before in her life.
Grandma knocked on the door again. Louder this time.
Maggie found the track she was looking for, an old cut of thrash metal, and dragged the volume slider all the way up. The music surged into her head, driving everything else out, filling her up with darkness, somebody else's darkness, anybody's darkness but her own.
It was good. It was pure. It didn't hurt anybody.
And then as soon as it had begun it stopped. Maggie whirled around in her chair and found Grandma staring at her through those huge glasses. She held the ear phones in her hands and as Maggie watched she pulled them apart until the plastic insulation split and the wire inside tore.
"I thought I made myself clear," Grandma said. "No music."
"You can't do this to me right now," Maggie said. She would try to be reasonable. She would try to talk Grandma through this one. She promised herself that much. It was going to be hard.
"You may not understand why I do the things I do," Grandma said, and Maggie could see the old woman was about to launch into a whole speech. Probably about how she knew what was best for Maggie, and that was all she wanted. How all the horrible effed-up things she did were really just gestures of love.
I hate you. I hate you, you miserable old dried-up piece of -
"There's a radio in the car," Maggie said, and jumped up from her chair. She ran to the kitchen and the rack where they kept the car keys. They were missing, of course. Maggie spun around and saw Grandma tottering toward her. She had the car keys in her right hand. On her left hand, she'd already turned her engagement ring around so the diamond was on the inside.
"You can't do this," Maggie said. She had promised she would try to work this out calmly and rationally. The problem was she wasn't calm or rational inside. It was really, really hard to fake it on her face. "I have just had the worst day of my life and I need to listen to some music. I have a right to that!"
"There's a difference between a right and a privilege. Your generation always has had trouble knowing where the line is."
"Please give me the car keys." Maggie lowered her head and stared at the floor. If she had to look at Grandma's prune face one more second - "I need the car, right now. I need the car, and I'm going to have those keys in a second. One way or another."
"Is that a threat, little girl?" Grandma asked. She was so close, suddenly. Well within arm's reach. Maggie tried to grab the keys out of her hand.
Instead Grandma's open palm smacked her on the face.
"Ow!" Maggie shrieked. She reached one hand up to her cheek and felt the heat there. Grandma had finally hit her with the diamond, just like she'd always threatened to do.
Heat and light filled up her brain.
I could kill you. It would be so easy.
Instead she grabbed the car keys. Grandma's hand was in the way. Maggie squeezed until the keys came loose, and then she ran for the door.