“Dad, I’m going over—”

“Not going to happen,” Jack Parker said over his newspaper as he reclined in his den’s most comfortable chair.

Nicole Parker, known mostly to friends and family as Nikki, stopped with her hand on the front door knob and turned toward her father in confusion. The fourteen (almost fifteen) year-old had her jacket over her other arm and her colorful bag over her shoulder. She wore small hoop earrings below her short brown hair.

“What?” she asked.

“Nope,” Jack said, not looking back up from his paper. In actuality, it wasn’t “his” paper. The paper he’d been editor-in-chief of for a number of years now was the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. The paper he was studying was the Seattle Star…the competition. Part of his job was keeping an eye on what the competition was doing and making sure his people were doing it better.

“Dad, I’m just going to Kara’s,” she huffed, still baffled.

“Not in those you’re not,” her father answered, turning to page D-7.

Further confused, she grunted her annoyance and looked herself over theatrically. “In WHAT?”

“Find some other jeans to wear,” he said calmly. “Then you can go.”

Nikki looked down, flabbergasted, at her ultra low-rise pintuck Gap jeans. “Are you joking?”

“Am I wearing a tuxedo and speaking into a microphone?”

“Dad,” she scoffed. “Everyone’s wearing these.”

“Apparently everyone but you. Change or stay home. Again, note the lack of tux.”

“What’s the big deal?” she demanded, now starting to bridge from indignation to anger. “Samantha helped me pick these out.”

Jack sighed, leaned forward, and quietly laid the competition on the coffee table. “Well, your sister wasn’t thinking straight, and your sister doesn’t make the rules in this house. You’re fourteen and too young to be wearing pants like that. The only good thing I can say about them is that at least I can see you haven’t gotten one of those tattoos yet. And that fact that I can see THAT means I can see too much. Go and find some other jeans. Preferably some that button up right under your armpits.”

“This is so stupid!” she spat. “What, are we Amish now?”

“For the purposes of this situation, yes we are. And you’re not going out among them English dressed like that,” he said, intoning a Pennsylvania accent.

His humor was not only lost on her but completely useless. She was well on her way to one of the famous Nikki boil-overs. “But I’m just going over to Kara’s!”

“If you were JUST going over to Kara’s, you wouldn’t be getting dressed up,” he said, eying her. Her face hued darker at not being as sly as she’d thought she was. “And if there are going to be boys dropping by, and—“ He headed her next protest off at the pass. “—I don’t care if her parents ARE home, you’re not…wearing…those.”

Words were racing around in Nikki’s head so fast that none of them seemed to be able to get out of her mouth. She was righteously furious.

“Go,” he said, sternly, pointing at the stairs, not giving her a chance to speak further. “Change, or stay up there tonight. Right now I’m still giving you choices. One of those choices is fast running out.”

Staring death rays through her father, Nikki breathed heavily and fast. Jack held her gaze. Neither of them blinked. Finally, she spun, dropped her bag and jacket by the door, and pounded up the stairs, yelling out the magic word along the way.

“Moooommm!!!”

Jack rolled his eyes and reached for his paper, noticeably less calm than he’d been a few moments ago. Nikki yelled down to him before she reached the top of the stairs.

“And no fair T-mailing her before I get to her!”

That was the family’s little code word for the special communication Jack and his wife Sabrina shared through their telepathic link, the one they’d been gifted with by their friend Stephen Strange on the day of their wedding. Jack shook his head and yanked the Star back open.

Jack?

Sabrina’s voice emerged in his mind, crisp and clear.

Hey, he thought back with more than a little sarcasm, you heard the lady. Apparently she’s the boss. I don’t want to be accused of influencing the jury before she’s had a chance to Perry Mason you.

It’s not that. Monique’s coming down to talk to you.

Sounds ominous. What about?

She paused for a moment, and then, instead of words, she “uploaded” the memory of the conversation she’d just had with Nikki’s twin.

Sabrina, come on…

Well…

We talked about this stuff.

He’s a nice boy, Jack.

He’s still a boy. A fifteen year-old boy. That should speak for itself.

He comes from a very nice family…

Do I come from a nice family?

Pardon me?

My Mom, my Dad. Would you say I come from a nice family?

Yes, of course…

You want to know what I was doing at fifteen?

Jack sent an “upload” of his own to her, a memory from his teenage years living in Nevada.

Jack!!!

Now that’s after her parents dropped us off at the movie we were SUPPOSED to be seeing. That park was next to the theater.

Oh, my Lord…

Need I say more?

Sabrina mentally sighed. No, I guess not. God, Jack, when did they mutate into teenagers? I’m not ready for this.

I am. I have super-powers, the iron gauntlet of the press at my command, and several friends in major intelligence agencies. Bring on the suitors.

I’m serious, jackass.

I know. I feel the same way. One day at a time, my love.

Here comes Princess Nikki.

Good luck. Try not to make me the bad guy.

Only if it works out better for me in the end.

Thanks, sweetheart.

She threw him a quick telepathic kiss and signed off as his other teenager came carefully down the stairs. That Monique and Nikki were not identical twins was more than biologically obvious. They’d grown into very different girls. Where Nikki was emotionally volatile, adventurous, rebellious and a bit wild, Monique was the sensible one. She was the good student, the deep thinker, the polite one. Where Nikki had insisted on cutting her hair short, Monique’s was long and luxurious, and already she was turning into the spitting image of her mother…in other words, a classically, even stunningly, beautiful woman. Many, many a young man had taken notice of this, which scared the living hell out of Jack…a man who had, by the way, faced super-villains, aliens, evil gods…

She walked into the den and pushed some of her hair back behind her right ear with her fingertips.

“Daddy, can I talk to you?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said with a smile, putting the paper back down. She sat lightly on the couch next to his chair, licking her lips and preparing her words. He stopped her with words of his own. “But can I just say something first?”

“Okay,” she nodded, very conciliatory as she was about to begin negotiations.

He took her hand and looked into her eyes.

“No way in Hell.”

“Daddy!” she said, taken aback.

“And you know I’ve been to Hell a couple of times, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“But…”

“You mother just T-mailed me and pleaded your case for you. And honey, I totally understand what you’re asking and what you’re feeling. But you know the rule. No dating in this house until you’re 16. Last time I checked, that’s a year and change away.”

“I know, but…” she said, clearly deflated and a little desperate. “It’s just a concert. And his parents would drop us off.”

Jack fought the urge to bite down on his tongue at that one, and now wished he hadn’t just pulled up that memory.

“First of all,” he said, leaning forward more in his chair and trying to keep an even, rational keel, “you also know you don’t get to go to concerts without adults yet. Which, I know, at your age means that you’d rather not go to them at all if that’s the choice...”

“Samantha could take us,” she said quickly, obviously having that little nugget waiting in the wings if the direct approach went wrong, which it now had for her. “I know she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t, sweetheart,” he said, and she had probably already offered, which reminded him that he REALLY had to have a talk with his older daughter from another dimension, “but don’t pull her into the middle of this. This isn’t about the concert. It’s about the dating. There’s a reason we have that rule.”

“But his parents say it’s okay, and they’re letting HIM go.”

Jack chose his words carefully. “And that’s their right, and I’m sure it’s because they trust Kevin…just like we trust you. But it’s not a question of trust. This is not something you’re going to understand right now, and I really hate saying something as lame as that, but it’s true. Dating is a very serious thing. There are…emotions involved, and there’s closeness, and there’s…just lots of things involved that you’re not ready to deal with at your age. And I don’t mean YOU. Don’t misunderstand me. Honey, we trust you and believe in you. You’ve proven to us over and over how responsible and mature you are, and we’re very proud of you. I’m talking about ANYONE your age. It sucks, I know, but believe me, there are a lot of kids out there in a LOT of problems because they started this stuff too early. It’s too EARLY, honey. I’m sorry, but it is.”

She didn’t meet his eyes for a moment, but looked down instead. When she looked up again, her brown eyes were watery.

“Please?” she said, quietly.

Oh, God. She’d gone right to pleading. This was his logical daughter with the carefully laid out arguments whenever she wanted something. Having her surrender that fast and fall back on mercy alone told him just how much this really meant to her. That single word and its tone echoed in his ears and mind and broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, Monique,” he said, genuinely meaning it, and took both her hands. “I have to say no. You can have Kevin over for dinner when we’re all here, and he can come along with us on the boat sometime if you want…but I can’t let you go to the concert. I’m sorry.”

She nodded, and sniffled, and though she tried to fight it, started to cry.

“Come here,” he said, not knowing if she wanted to right then, but he pulled her into a hug anyway. She let him and hugged back. As he said…the polite one. The respectful one. But he didn’t delude himself. He was the bad guy. All that was on her mind was that little bastard Kevin and his wavy hair and that her mean Dad was keeping her from her one true love (at least this month’s). What a great job, fatherhood.

“You okay?” he asked as he released her and put his hands on her shoulders, cocking his head to examine her tear-streaked face. She nodded, not looking at him at first, then respectfully looking up and forcing a smile. Just for a moment he remembered fourteen…when the world was so small and focused and little things meant absolutely everything. And he didn’t envy his girls for having to go through all of that. He wished he knew some way to just safely steer them around it all. But there was no short cut anyone had found yet as far as he knew. Damn it.

She stood up and collected herself and said, “I have some studying to do.” He knew that was the last thing she was going to be doing up in her room right now, but it was a graceful exit, at least.

“Okay,” he said, squeezing her hand one last time. “Dinner’s in about an hour.”

She nodded.

“And…if you don’t feel like coming down for dinner? That’s…okay.”

She smiled with maybe a little tinge of gratitude (probably wishful thinking on his part) and nodded again. He smiled back and let her go. She walked away, wiping her face with her back to him, and climbed slowly back up the stairs.

Jack leaned back, now ignoring the paper. He was now officially emotionally drained. Monique was not an arguer, not belligerent, but somehow knowing she was suffering in silence, holding in and hiding her pain, made him feel so much worse. He thought he’d feel better about it if she’d just let it all out and started screaming at him.

At that moment, Nikki came storming down the stairs.

God’s a funny guy, Jack thought, and wondered what size tux He wore.

She reached the landing at the bottom, near the front door, and the yelling started.

“It’s not fair!!”

Half-sighing, half-growling, he sat back up again.

“I’m almost fifteen years old! I’m not a kid!!”

“And yet,” Jack said, almost evenly, “you’re throwing a tantrum like one.”

“You can’t tell me what clothes I can and can’t wear!”

“Oh, I can’t?” he asked, getting angrier. “Is that how things work in your world? In mine, I PAY for those clothes, oh, and by the way, I’m your FATHER. So yes, I can.”

“No one else’s parents—!!”

“I don’t CARE,” he inadvertently roared, “what other parents do! I don’t care if they let their daughters run the streets and dress like Christina GOD damned Aguilera and do whatever the hell they please! In THIS house, there are rules! And whether you ever figure it out or not, these rules are here protect you, and your sister, and make sure you don’t turn out like half the other girls your age whose lives are going to end up in the goddamned toilet before they’re old enough to vote! NOT you, NOT Monique, NOT IN MY HOUSE! You HEAR me?!”

He didn’t even realize he was yelling until it was over, and then he realized he’d been REALLY yelling. And he was on his feet, something else he’d not noticed happening. Nikki looked stunned, which made sense, because unlike his days fighting brightly-costumed villains, in his home, Jack rarely lost his temper.

Jack…? Sabrina carefully asked in his head.

He took a couple of deep breaths. Nikki watched him carefully, still standing next to the entryway table with its vase of fresh flowers, not quite sure what to do or say.

Jack was the one to break the silence.

“Go to your room,” he said, quietly but emphatically. “You’re not going out tonight. And you’re taking those jeans back tomorrow.”

He sat down in his chair again and grabbed the paper. Before he had opened it in front of him, he caught a flash of the rage growing in Nikki’s face. Well, good. Let her rage. He was the bad guy after all, right? That guy you just love to hate. Hannibal Lecktor, Dr. No, that wacky Hitler…

He heard Nikki’s scream of anger, and it wasn’t a surprise. Many a conflict with her over the years had ended with that scream and her storming out of the room. Door slamming would then follow, then pouting silence and seclusion, and eventually (more often than not) some kind of apology from her and then back to the status quo.

This time the scream was followed by a loud crash. Jack dropped his paper from before him, and noticed several things in a very short time, but in approximately this order:

First, the vase was lying on the entryway floor, broken, with lifeless lilies now lying amongst the shards of it in a pool of water.

Second, the table, or what used to be the table, was all over the floor around it. The table had not been knocked over. It had not been broken. It had been pulverized. Splinters of it were everywhere, and a small haze of sawdust hung in the air. If he had not already known that that same stylish table that had stood there for years was, in fact, a table, he would not have been able to clearly identify what had once been the whole that was now only so many bits.

Third, Nikki was still standing there, her fisted hand near where the top of the table had once been. It was pretty obvious that she’d struck the table in her anger. How it was possible that such an act from such a small girl could have caused such a violent and messy result only made sense when taking a closer look at Nikki.

Nikki was now covered in fur.

Her arms were now pelted with light brown hair from her tee shirt’s sleeves right down to her fingertips. The same fur climbed up from beneath her too-low jeans and covered her belly. Her face, too, had a light sheen of the stuff, and her hair, while still short, seemed thicker and wilder.

She stared at the mess on the floor first, and then her gaze landed on the back of her hand. Her eyes grew painfully wide. She held both hands up then, and looked at them, backs and fronts, and at her arms. For those couple of moments, her visible emotions went from confusion to absolute terror. Still lost, she looked up at her father, her mouth agape, her hands shaking. Jack couldn’t move. He was paralyzed with shock himself.

Jack?! Sabrina yelled in his mind.

Nikki looked down at her hands again. Back at Jack. Back at her hands. Her mind was starting to work, and to work out what was happening. When she looked back to Jack again, her face had changed. The terror was gone, the now-forgotten anger was gone, and something new was there. Something neutral, but something new. Her mouth started to work at forming words, then she brought her hands up and covered her mouth instead. Jack could just see her wide eyes looking at him.

And from the creases around them, he could tell that beneath her hands, her mouthed was stretched in an enormous, excited, ecstatic smile. There were tears in her eyes, but they were tears of pure joy.

Three words were all Jack could manage.

“Oh, SHIT,” were the first two.

The third was…

“SABRINAAAAA!!!”

CONTINUED.

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