I Know You Better – Freddie POV

A thirteen-year-old Cece stood in front of a dark haired man with large muscles and a full head of hair. He looked around middle age. That would be me, by the way.

"Dad, if you don't let me go to the dance then… then… Then I'm not going at all!" Cece yelled.

I was confused, but only for a moment. "Um… Oh, so that's how you wanna play it? Fine! Don't go to the dance!" I caught myself before I helped Cece realize what she had just said.

"Yeah! That's what I JUST said, dad," Cece snarked

I grinned. "Was that back talk I heard, Cece?"

I was king of the time-outs. Even if Cece was thirteen years old.

"Uh… No, of course not! I was just… You know what, yeah it was back talk! And I am not going to the dance, no matter what you say!" she snapped.

I smiled slyly and looked down at my wife who was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of hot chocolate, watching in amusement.

"Cecelia Benson…" I started.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," she said triumphantly.

"Since when are there dances for homeschoolers anyways?" Sam cut in.

"I honestly have no idea," I responded.

Yeah. I grew up going to a public high school. I didn't want my child that… Uneducated.

"Sure, why don't you guys talk about me like I'm not here?" Cece said.

"CECELIA CARLY BENSON," I boomed. Cece needed to be well behaved. It's how we raised her.

Cece jumped in shock of the loud noise as Sam offered a more calm repercussion, "Cece, cool the attitude."

"Sorry," Cece offered.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to your father," Sam instructed.

Cece sighed and looked up at me. She was only 5'1, like her mom. Not the tallest person in the world.

"Dad, I'm sorry, but I really wanna go to the dance," she said with puppy-dog eyes.

Wait a minute. Something was off here.

"No, you don't," Sam said in all seriousness. That's what I was thinking.

Cece looked at her, "I-I do too!"

"Cece," I stated in an 'you-don't-think-I-know-you-by-now' way.

"I do!" Cece said, slightly stronger.

"Cece, do you hear yourself?" I asked my daughter. "You hate dancing, sweat, and people. That's pretty much what a dance is."

"I do not hate people," Cece countered.

"Cece," Sam said.

There was a pause where both parents looked at their child. "OKAY! So I don't like people very much!"

Sam and I smiled at each other.

"But people are stupid!" Cece reasoned.

"That's my girl," Sam whispered, even though it was within earshot of all the other people in the room.

I took a step closer to Cece. "So why do you want to go this dance, then?" I asked calmly.

"I-I-I just-," she looked like she was about to cry. She saw the light peaking in from the blinds in our country farmhouse, "I have to feed Leo," and then she ran out of the house and into the barn.

Sam got up from her spot at the table. "I got her."

"No, I'll get her," I said.

Sam started heading up the wooden stairs as I walked outside in the snow to get to Cece in the cherry-red barn. I found her feeding oats to a gray horse with white spots. "Cynical, evil, sarcasm enthusiast," she said without turning to see me. She knew I was there.

"You better not be talking about your mother," I joked.

She brushed her hands together and leaned against the railing of a stall to face me. She had tears streaking down her face, and immediately I felt bad for joking at a time like this. "Nope. Cynical, evil, sarcasm enthusiast. Cese for short. It's the new nickname the kids at the co-op gave me. Ya like it?" she said, crashing to the pellet floor, burying her face in her hands.

"Cece!" I exclaimed as I crashed next to her and wrapped my arms around her small frame.

She tried pushing and kicking me away, but my grip only got tighter. "No! No! No…" she screamed into my chest.

She resisted for a minute more, but then gave up. She hugged me back and just sobbed into my chest.

It suddenly occurred to me why Cece wanted to go the dance so badly. To take a step away from unsocial Cese. Well, no way was my kid going to that stupid place anymore. Not if they were going to treat my Cece like a Cese. It's not like it would make a difference. All she did was take band, and let's face it. Her band teacher was like a thousand years old and had no idea where he was. Sam could teach her better.

I rubbed the palm of my hand in circles on Cece's back, a technique that used to calm Sam down. I was cradling Cece in my lap, something she hadn't let me do since she was a little girl. And trust me. She was not a little girl anymore. But she was to me.

Bullies suck.

Cece may enjoy using sarcasm most of the time, but she was neither cynical nor evil in any way, shape, or form. She was the sweetest girl in the world and she always would be. So she threw a tiny tantrum once or twice. But it was literally only once or twice in her whole lifetime.

It was freezing in here. So cold that I was sure Cece's tears would freeze to her face. I grabbed the blanket off the bench and laid it on top of our laps. It smelled like horses, but practically everything around here did. We only kept it in here in case one of us locked ourselves out of the house and ended up here somehow.

"Dad, make it stop! Make it stop!" she cried.

"Sh…" I hushed, kissing the top of her head.

I just wanted to let her cry for now. Crying always helped, as long as it wasn't for some selfish reason. Right now it was perfectly acceptable.

Now, allow me to explain Cece's genetic make-up. Except for the hair coloring, which came out of nowhere, Cece is almost the exact clone of her mother. A little nicer.

She had no problem standing up for other people, calling bullies out on their insecurities. However, Cece wasn't as abrasive as her mother, therefore she didn't have as much of a 'rep' as her mother had with bullies, making her herself a target. Hence, Cese.

However, as I said before, Cece is not the EXACT clone of her mother. She did end up with some of my genes, and they do show up. And truth be told, if I didn't have a Sam when I was her age to beat me and toughen me up, I probably would've been doing the same thing that Cece was doing right now. Crying my eyes out.

That's pretty much it. She was very sensitive, no matter what front she puts up, she uses sarcasm like oxygen, most people annoy her, she hates pink, she loves animals, and she can hula hoop like there's no tomorrow. So why was this happening to her?

"Cece, I think you've cried all your tears," I said gently.

I wanted to get her inside as soon as possible. She had on a thick sweatshirt, but even that couldn't stand up to freezing snow.

She sniffled again and slid off of my lap, keeping her legs over mine, though. She looked down at the ground, her extremely long fiery curls almost touching the floor.

"Cece, listen to me," I said.

She looked up at me and stared at me with those big, blue eyes. They didn't change like her mom's. They were always a piercing light blue, no matter what her mood was.

"You are the sweetest, kindest, nicest, most intelligent, caring, most beautiful girl in the world. And nothing that anyone says or does can ever change that, you understand?" I asked.

She smiled weakly and nodded her head. "Understood."

I got up and helped her to her feet. "And you're grounded until further notice." Hey, she still threw a tantrum. And tantrums do not go unpunished in the Benson household.

She smiled and nodded her head again. "Understood."

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and started walking towards the house. "I love you, Cece."

"I love you too, dad."

I've always had the best kid in the world.