A/N: So I still have three other stories that are waiting for me to update... But this particular one has been running around in my head like a hyperactive dog off its leash, and was distracting me from my other works. So I had to type it out first before I moved back to my other writing projects. Anyway, Say What?! will be quite a short story of only two chapters. I hope you'll enjoy it, and I hope that my work isn't too shabby. :P

Say What?! - Chapter 1

“… and I simply do not approve of you curling up in bed until one in the afternoon…” she droned on.

I rested my cheek in my hand, simply not bothered about her “lectures”. I was itching to ask her to shut up, but held my tongue. For dad’s sake. That was when my boyfriend, Terry, logged in on MSN, and my fingers started to dance across the keyboard, engaged in a conversation with him.

There she goes again, I typed, eyes rolling while I tried hard to drown out her monotonous voice.

Who? That woman? He replied.

Yeah. Who else?

You should seriously ask her to lay off.

It’s not like I…

Before I could finish typing in my reply, that woman suddenly poked her nose in on my right, wanting to scrutinize the conversation I was having. Thank goodness my reflexes were fast enough to reach the ‘Esc’ button on the keyboard and brought the chat window to a close before she managed to register anything. I hope she can’t hear the sound of my heart thumping against my chest wall.

I turned my chair around and stared at the blonde woman in disbelief, my electric-blue eyes boring into hers, which were in an infuriatingly similar shade of colour.

“Excuse me? Have you any manners at all to not read other people’s conversations?” I scowled. That was just plain rude of her to do so.

“You’ve been talking to that Terry boy again, haven’t you?” she looked at me with indifference, but the displeasure was thick in her tone. Damn, she managed to catch a glimpse of his e-mail address. Not bad.

“What does it matter to you?” I faced the family computer again, and began to click on the ‘Shut Down’ button.

“You know I don’t like you talking to him, don’t you?”

I shot her a dirty look. “Hello? Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘freedom of speech’? I can speak to anyone I damn well please!”

When the computer screen turned black, I stood up abruptly and brusquely walked past her, not even caring that our shoulders knocked against each other. I grabbed my bag off the floor and headed towards my room. My sanctuary.

“Just where do you think you’re going? I’m not done speaking with you yet!” she yelled at me.

Annoyed, I came to a stop right outside my room and turned around to snap at her, while she closed the distance that I put between us. “Didn’t you say that you’d prefer that I focus on my studies rather than talking to boys like Terry? I’m going to grant your wish now, Your Highness.”

And I slammed the door of my room right in her face, locking it in one fluid motion. This is going to sound juvenile, but I feel a sense of accomplishment by doing that to her. Dumping my bag on the blue rug in the middle of the room, I hopped onto my bed and buried my face in the covers.

“You open that door this instant, young lady! I do not tolerate attitudes like that!” she hollered from behind the door. “Do you hear me, Phoebe Allingham?!”

I winced when she called me by my full name. “Which part of ‘I have homework to do’ do you not understand?! Sheesh! Leave me alone!” I yelled back, turning over to face the ceiling.

“You’re in so much trouble when you get out of the room,” she said again. Fine, I’ll just keep myself in the room. I’d like to see what can you do if I don’t come out. I scoffed at her remark, not even bothering to reply. It would be a waste of my breath and energy to even remotely try to talk sense into people like that. The back of my right hand found its place on top of my eyes.

She stood there in silence for a minute before realizing that I was going to glue my mouth shut from there onwards. Then the padding of footsteps grew further away from the door of my room.

Sorry, whacko decided to nose around our conversation. I fished my handphone out of my bag and texted Terry, then let it fall on the bed by my side.

While waiting for his reply, my memory inadvertently flickered back to the earlier incident. My blood pressure raised several notches just by thinking back at the series of shouts that we’ve hurled at each other just a moment ago. Truthfully, we’ve been pretty much at each other’s throats since the day we met.

That bitch. Who does she think she is? My mother? What right does she have to control my life like this?

Sighing, I looked through the crevices between my fingers at the photo frame perched on top of a shelf that was bolted to the wall. It was taken two years ago at my junior high’s graduation ceremony, with me smiling happily with mom and dad. I smiled bitterly at the memory, and the sudden onrush of tears caught me by surprise. I frowned at my behavior – I thought I should’ve got past the stage of bawling my eyes out already.

Even though it’s been six months since that fateful day, I apparently still couldn’t bring myself to believe in the reality that mom’s no longer here with us. That day was still vividly imprinted in my mind.

Six months ago.

“Would everyone please focus your attention at the projection screen right here? This is…” Mrs. Stanford was about to explain to us about the different phases of cellular division when the door to my classroom flung open. Everyone’s heads turned sharply to our right to see who just barged in.

My jaw hung open when I realized that it was my dad, his emerald eyes focused hard on me. The usual calm demeanor of my father was replaced by a nervy side that I’ve never seen before.

“Dad…?!” I asked incredulously, trying to rack my brains to find for a reason that my dad would appear here, but couldn’t think of any. Dad approached Mrs. Stanford and had a quick, silent word with her. Her eyes widened and nodded at something dad said.

“Thank you,” dad said silently to Mrs. Stanford, before dragging me out of the classroom, leaving me still in my bewildered state, into his BMW parked at the main entrance of the school without giving any form of explanation.

“Dad… dad! What’s happening?!” I asked dad while fumbling with the seatbelt. Something in my mind told me that something was wrong. Really wrong. He kept silent, and stepped on the accelerator. Soon we were speeding down the roads at a speed of 140 kilometers per hour. Definitely not something that dad would do.

“Dad! Would you please tell me what’s going on?!” I pleaded, on the brink of tears.

“Your mother…” he breathed. My eyes went wide.

“Mom?! What happened to her?!” Panic mode: On.

“She… has been involved in a traffic accident…” he breathed, his voice grim. “Bruce said things aren’t looking too good…”

“No, mom will be alright… she’ll be alright…” I said, but dad only shook his head and focused on the asphalt ahead of us.

Several minutes later, we slowly came to a stop outside the Accident and Emergency ward of the Cornwell Memorial Hospital. I immediately jumped out of dad’s car and rushed to see my mother. Dad followed closely behind me.

“Uncle Bruce! Where’s mom?!” When I caught sight of the doctor, I ran forward and clutched his white coat, hoping that he’ll tell me that mom is recuperating in the wards at this very moment.

But it was not meant to be.

“I’m sorry, Phoebe...” he placed his hand on my head, his own hung low.

“Christopher… I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything… she’s gone…” Bruce apologized to dad, choking on the final word.

“No! No! You’re lying! Mom’s not dead! She can’t be!” I screamed, struggling to get out of dad’s grip, arms flailing about.

“Phoebe! Stop this nonsense. Irene’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do about it,” Dad hugged me in a tight embrace and whispered in my ear, trying hard to calm me down.

“How can you say that?!” I shrieked. Has he always been this heartless? I tried to push him away, but stopped when I saw that silent tears were rolling down his cheeks as well. It was then that I realized that he was trying hard to put a reign on his emotions.

At the sight of dad removing his calm and forever smiling demeanour, I fell limply into his chest and wept openly.

Mom’s dead… and there’s nothing we can do about it… My mind repeated dad’s words involuntarily.