MISC: The Girl Who Saved the World Part 67
phillies at 4liberty.net
Thu Dec 21 18:38:41 PST 2017
"I'm home," Trisha called. She did that every day. Hopefully they
wouldn't complain that she was doing the same thing she always did. "I'm
going upstairs to my room."
"Trisha, dear," her mother's voice was loud and clear, "don't you have
chores to do?"
"Mom, today is Wednesday. That's me cleaning up my room. So I will. And
I'll start the dishwasher after dinner so we can hear ourselves talk
while we eat." She wondered what her mother was going to complain about
now. There had to be something.
"That's very good, dear," Abigail said. "Call me when you're done and
I'll inspect your work."
"Yes, mother, of course I will," Trisha said. Mother hadn't done that in
years. Well, a good year and a half, anyhow. Now she was going to have
to have the room absolutely perfect in every respect, or she'd never
hear the end of it. “And you’re always so good about showing me what I
"Trisha, dear? Wasn't there something else you wanted to say to me?"
"Ummh, well, no, mother. There wasn't," Trisha said. "Oh, wait, do you
have any more chores for me on top of cleaning my room completely? And
starting the new year’s cleaning of the kitchen?"
"Just go to your room dear," Abigail said, "I will be up to see that
it's properly cleaned."
Trisha dashed up the stairs, using just enough of her flight gift that
she made no sound on the stairs. Fortunately, she had all the cleaning
supplies she needed in the closet next to her bathtub. Even more
fortunately, she didn't have any carpets, because she couldn't use
superspeed to accelerate the vacuum cleaner. She didn't quite understand
why, but if she tried that she would blow the circuit breaker in the
basement every time. It was something to do with how much power the
vacuum cleaner was drawing.
So she would start at the top, oil the ceiling and wall maple surfaces
in the fourth floor room, clean the windows, dust the valences and the
chandelier, clean the desk and shelves, make sure everything in the
drawers was very neatly arranged, make sure the books on the bookshelves
were all at the front of the shelf the way her mother liked them not the
back the way she liked them, dry mop the floor, repeat in her third
floor bedroom, be sure her bed sheets and blanket passed the quarter
test, clean under the bed, check all the places where she had clothing
to see everything was straightened up and properly stacked, completely
clean her bathroom including the walls and ceiling, realize she had
better clean all the slats in all of the blinds, use flight to pick up
the bed mattress and clean the edges of the bed, make sure her plants
were all watered, realize she had better dust the top of her books and
the bookshelves behind the books, stack her CDs in the compartment under
the window seat so they completely hid where the secret compartments
were, and double check everything. Mom and Dad had never learned about
the secret compartments. At this point she was seriously tired. A glance
at the wall clock said she'd needed 10 minutes to do everything. That
translated to almost 10 hours real-time, except somehow with superspeed
it didn't quite feel that way. She was still tired. She would take a nap
and tighten the sheets again afterwards before she called mother to inspect.
Her mother, dutifully summoned, carefully looked over absolutely
everything, down to picking up the mattress and looking underneath at
the sides of the bed. She appeared to be even more annoyed than she had
been before. She could find nothing to complain about.
"When do I come down for dinner?" Trisha asked.Perhaps Mom had forgotten
yesterday.Perhaps she'd been mean. Trisha decided she didn’t care what
the answer was.But she'd make Mom say 'you are going to bed without your
supper', if that was what it was.
"6:30 sharp," her mother answered."And you still aren't going to tell me
why else I'm doing this?"
"I think I already did, mother," Trisha said. "And you think there's
another reason. If I ever come up with it, I could tell you." And I
might not, she thought. You can not enjoy what I’m not enjoying. Mother
was even better at slamming the door behind her than Dad had been.
Twenty minutes later, after a hot shower and change to formal dinner
clothing, she set the timer for 6:28 and sat down with her biology book.
There had been some good things today. She’d dumped music. She'd made
the boys base ball nines team sprint until they were gasping to for
breath just so that she wouldn't lap them. Next time she’d really
sprint. They’d die.But they were boys. They’d get what they deserved.
She had done just fine on the in-class exams, enough to keep her A+
grades in place. Editing English was going to be a pain. Most other
teachers would let her take in-class exams and let her move beyond that
stupid limit. The Engineering teacher, Mister Allan, was being really
nice about letting her do her own projects so long as she was grounded.
Mrs. Gostak was really nice, but carefully obeyed the rules as written.
She'd have to find a solution to the lunch money problem. Dad knew
exactly what lunch cost, and with her allowance stopped she was not
getting another dime. Janie spent all of her allowance money on books.
Brian made those wonderful models, brought in way more money by selling
them than Dad seemed to have noticed, bought Janie even more books, all
sorts of model-building tools for himself, some of her gym equipment,
and gave her fabric to sew things like their garb. He’d always say he
traded for things at one of the second hand tech stores, fixed things
and traded just like Dad had taught him, and dad just smiled and nodded.
At least, Trisha thought, she'd always saved her allowance money. That
would keep her going for a couple of months.
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