t e n ; clear skies 

When it’s only just us, Mom and Dad share a look to each other. They look conflicted, and I understand why. Suddenly I’m reliving the day I was suspended for handling a problem on my own by throwing pretzels at other kids. At the time, I promised my parents that I would call an adult instead of trying to solve things on my own. A small part of me is guilty for sort of breaking that promise. However, in this situation, depending on the adults was futile, and achieved worse results than what we expected. I had to do something that was effective for my brother even if it was immature in their perspective. I’m no longer that twelve year old who looked for adults’ approval of my actions because I have more confidence in my decisions now. Things aren’t black and white anymore. I can’t expect all adults are always right, just as how all kids aren’t always wrong.

Before they say anything to me, I stand my ground without backing out. “I don’t regret what I did.” My mom opens to say something but I cut her off. “I’m sorry, but you have to listen. You guys always tell me to stand up for what’s right, and I did. I couldn’t let those boys think it’s fine to say those hurtful things and not be held accountable for it. And what I did was not fair to them, but in the long run, Ethan is more affected to the prejudice he encountered than pooping in pants in front of other kids. For them, it’s an embarrassing incident. For Ethan, he’s always going to face some type of discrimination for who he is because people are mean without reason. We can’t protect him from all the harsh realities of the world, but if I could protect him from this so he can have a better experience at school, I don’t regret it.”

My parents are stunned into silence. It stretches out for longer than it should that I’m starting to doubt myself. My mom is the one who breaks the quiet atmosphere. “You should have told us about the plan. We had to find out through Ethan’s principal.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Dad sighs as he folds his arms together, but he doesn’t hide the smile on his face. “It’s very hard to be a parent, I’ll be honest. If I was your friend, laxative chocolates in brownies would have been really funny. As a parent though, we have to be more careful about what we approve. All things aside, I’m proud of you, Skylar.”

“You are?” I shake my head. “I mean, oh, yeah, of course you are,” I agree as an afterthought, clearing my throat.

He works a hand around his neck, massaging it. “When I was your age, I did a lot more stupid pranks that would get me in trouble. Unlike this situation, I didn’t have any good intentions except that I just wanted to get a laugh out of everyone else. I didn’t change until your mother came in the picture.”

“Really?” It is my first time hearing this. It’s hard to envision your parents before you existed and the lives they had when they were younger. I forget they are human sometimes. Not that they are godlike figures, but because they were never perfect like our presumptions of them.

We pick up our pace to the car and Mom adds, “Your dad keeps pranking our high school chemistry teacher. I was a model student at the time and fed up with his tactics. So one day I decided to give him a piece of my mind.”

They share a fond laugh at the memory. Their eyes have a faraway look to them, as though they’re reliving that time period again. I don’t think know how my parents met, despite hearing countless stories of when they were dating. In the car, I decide to voice my curiosity regarding their story. As good storytellers do, they recount the time they hated each other for many years. They reunited again in college, and their story took complete one-eighty. My stomach hurts from hearing the fail attempts of how my dad was trying to win over my mom. He was the opposite of smooth, and we are more alike in that aspect than I suspected.

•   •   •   •   •   •   •

Kai gets up from the front steps that he was sitting. His head bows to my parents. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Hwang.”

“How many times did I tell you to stop bowing to us, son? It’s so formal. I’m fine with, ‘What’s up Mr. Hwang?’” My dad inputs, patting Kai on the shoulder.

“Dad, please stop trying to be hip.”

“Skylar, I’m not trying. I am hip.” I groan at his response as he strides through the door. My mom hugs Kai and gives him the same rant of how we kept her out of the loop. Last Thursday, I ran to his house without any real explanation to her, except for a call to update her that I was going to bake some brownies at his place. Her verbal delivery is not chiding, but concerned that we went through with the plan without informing my parents firsthand.

Sensing our good mood, Kai faces me after my parents are inside the house. “What are you doing here? You didn't have to wait until we got home. I was going to text you as soon as I can,” I tell him.

His neon yellow shirt is so bright that it’s impossible not to notice. It’s the minions T-shirt I got him for his birthday in return for the puns T-shirt he gifted me last Christmas. It’s a Saturday, so his attire is more relaxed. He wears sweatpants instead of his usual jeans. “I just want to see it for myself. It went okay?”

“More than okay,” I confirm. Smugly, I put a hand on my hip. “And I schooled those parents.”

He beams excitedly. “I wish I witnessed it.”

“One kid pooped in his pants on the bus.”

“No way.” His eyes double in size, matching the way he’s grinning with scandalized amazement. “That’s so disturbingly awesome.”

I can’t help it. My inner child releases a giggle out of me. “I know! I was so close from letting out a snort when one of the parents said it.”

I relay all the details that I could remember while he includes side commentary as reactions. We sit side by side on the front step as the sun glares down. Even so, our February weather is considerably one of the colder months. Although it may be snowing everywhere else, it doesn't snow in the winter from where I live. My neighborhood is deserted as usual, aside from the occasional cars passing by my street.

“Aren’t you cold wearing that shirt?” I ask pointedly.

He gives me the same deadpan reply as t