THAT TIME OF THE MONTH

Candace Chase found her eyelids refusing to open as her alarm rang, blaring the radio on some God forsaken mexican station playing what sounded like a jumbled mess, but she was certain there was music in there somewhere. Her gray eyes slowly pressed open, and she pulled her head out from beneath the thick blanket she had buried herself beneath, blowing a lock of long, almost black hair out of her face. Candace lifted in her bed and twisted awkwardly, yawning wide mouthed like a lion.

The sixteen year old reached into her dry mouth and removed her retainer, placing it in a case on her cherry wood nightstand. Candace clicked her jaw comfortably and kicked off the last of the blankets. She was nearly nude, adorned only in a pink camo sports bra that she quickly wiggled herself out of and then darted into her bathroom; she desperately had to pee.

She shivered as her bare feet slid across the wood floors in the hall, and then found herself comforted by her release. Her stomach was still cramping, and when she wiped herself clean she knew why; it was that time of the month. Throwing the tissue into the toilet, Candace struggled to her feet and immediately hopped into the shower, she was eager for a fresh, cold bath.

After her bath, Candace affixed a pad to her boy cut panty and then dressed for the day; she wore a gray tank top with a charcoal flannel over-shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. A pair of faded jeans, and sneakers over a fresh pair of socks. Her long wavy hair hung just past her shoulders, and she slid black trimmed eye glasses onto her face. Ready for the weekend, she hurried down stairs.

Her father, Chip, was already in the kitchen, prepping a breakfast of muffins, blueberry and chocolate chip. Two large glasses of milk were poured and placed at the table.

"I heard ya moving around," Chip said, winking at his daughter.

Chip was the spitting image of Nathan Fillion, to a scary degree, as if the actor had been cast to play her father.

His daughter quickly scarfed down eight muffins before announcing she was full. Then two full glasses of milk evaporated in seconds. All before Chip had even turned out the stove.

"That was mine!" Chip exclaimed, it was his glass of milk she drank as her second.

"It was getting warm," Candace argued with a shrug.

Chip scowled, sitting at the table opposite his daughter and slowly ate his own muffins. He was pouring himself a new glass of milk all the while glaring playfully at his daughter.

The glow of the warm sun was filtering in through the large kitchen windows as Chip finished his own breakfast, and he and his daughter stood in sync, carefully cleaning up after themselves, unconsciously mimicking each other, like a mirrored view. At the counter, Candace stood almost as tall as her father, at 5'9" she would outgrow him soon.

With his hands thoroughly soaked in water, Chip's cell phone began ringing, humming a musical key from an 80's song by Stan Bush. Chip rolled his eyes, threw off his gloves and snatched the phone from the counter top. Chip narrowed his eyes at the ID and answered.

"Mister Witwicky- how are you?" he said flatly. That was her father's boss.

Chip nodded at the phone as if Witwicky could see him. "I'm on my way."

With that, Chip hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. He faced his daughter and sighed embarrassingly. "I have to go in," he told her.

"No movie then?" Candace asked, drying the last of the hand wash dishes, everything else was loaded into the washer.

"We're still on for tonight," Chip promised, the weekend was their movie night, his wife had started it when Candace was born. It was one of the few traditions they carried in this house.

Chip grabbed a black blazer hanging from the coat closet in the hall outside the kitchen and swopped it around his body. Then he pulled out a security clearance that read SKYWATCH, and fastened it to his collar. Finally Chip kissed his daughter on her fair skinned forehead and told her goodbye.

"Call me if you need anything."

Candace nodded, waving at her father.

Chip reached the door and looked back; "Be safe, rugrat." Chip winked, and Candace winked and gave him a thumb's up.

She watched her father leave, then caught sight of a beautiful car parked two houses down across the street; a Lamborghini Perdigón, with a blue paint scheme. It was impossible to mistake, and she had a certain passion for cars. She only drove a yellow Volkswagen beetle. What she wouldn't give to get behind the seat of a Lamborghini, though.

As her father drone away in his truck, Candace watched the Perdigón rev up and slowly drive off in the same direction. She surmised it was only a coincidence. But a shiver drifted down her spine when she swore there was no driver behind the wheel. She shook the thought from her mind and retreated to the sofa, it was time for Saturday morning cartoons.

TO BE CONTINUED