CHAPTER THREE:
[1 YEAR LATER]
"Mom, dad please we can't move, we can't leave, we just can't, my entire life is here, I've finally managed to build a life for myself right here in Troy and this is my senior year, please guys I'm begging you, I'll do anything, I'll even try to go out more and socialize, please, just let me stay". Agnes Tracer rehearsed her most pathetic speech in front of the bathroom mirror for the fourth time, this time carefully observing her facial parameters to ensure that her words went in line with her facial expression so that the end result would look as utterly miserable as possible, she wanted to make sure that her speech was perfect for tonight's dinner. She had even taken the liberty to break the unspoken rule and stepped into the kitchen, not to mention commit an atrocious abomination by touching the stove and not to make matters, she absolutely desecrated the sanctity and purity of the kitchen by attempting the unspeakable act of daring to try to cook, the results were utterly devastatingly miserable, the pasta looked more like a dish from mars and the chicken looked like it had more promising future burnt, compared to what if met at the hands of Agnes . Her dishes were truly out of this world. Agnes stared at her appalling attempt at creating what could best be described as food with deep pride and admiration, just anticipating the praises that awaited her from her parents. And this her master piece chicken and pasta, her three step plan was simple, step one, impress her parents with her awe inspiring, mouthwatering dishes, step two, bring up all the good things about Troy and all the good memories they had in the city and finally bring down the thunder with her magnificently prepared speech, she wasn't normally one to beg, she rarely did it even when it was her only choice and as such it had taken her a whole week to prepare this appeal dinner and everything was perfect, her pathetic speech was ready, the dining room was looking slightly better than a funeral parlor and what sat in the pot in the place of pasta was perfectly ready (for the trash can) whatever it was, and the chicken in the oven had given up all hopes of surviving the soul shattering torture and mutilation that it had endured and had given in to it's cruel fate. The only thing remaining now were the parents, Agnes busied herself rearranging the chairs to her view of perfection hoping her parents would just walk in and boom, like a wish from a genie or a fairy god mother, the door knob turned and her father walked in looking even more dead than a corpse lying in a morgue "hey dad" exclaimed Agnes as she took his brief case from him "hey sweetie, how was your day?" he managed to groan sounding as exhausted as he looked, "it was great, I cooked dinner", her words froze him in midair, as she led him to the dining room, his face was painted with an expression that ranged from somewhere between awe and bewilderment to somewhere between pain and disgust.
"Hmm Agnes, did you actually um taste any of that", he asked in a tone of total fear, worrying she might already be a victim of food poisoning, "nope, I didn't, not a single bite, I was waiting for you guys to come home", her father gave a sigh of relief, happy that she was safe but at the same time worrying about what the future held for both his wife and himself. A few minutes later his wife walked in, if it were even possible, she looked more exhausted than her husband, she was about to collapse on the sofa when her husband made the earth shattering announcement. "Um honey, Agnes cooked dinner", she froze in her tracks and shared the same expression her husband had when he'd received the devastating news. MRS Tracer stared at the appalling dishes with pity and disgust while MR Tracer poked with his fork what he hoped was chicken or something that was supposed to be chicken, that was lost somewhere between not exactly raw and absolutely nowhere near cooked, "well shall we dig in?" asked Agnes grinning from ear to ear, she looked more like a constipated cat than an enthusiastic teenage girl.
Her long black flowing hair, pink lips, deep brown eyes and freckled cheeks all seemed to be in pain rather than the hopeful look she was shooting for. "Well before we eat any of this rather sumptuous meal", stammered MR Tracer, "I just want to say that I'm really, really proud of you darling, this...…. Um this is a real decent effort and honestly I'm really impressed, it's just that um...….." "Well", continued Mrs. Tracer "it's just that, this is your very first dish and well, sometimes, something like this is worth celebrating because it's somewhat special, so we really want to save it for a special day, some time when we're all rested up so that we can really get the real taste of this special dish". "Okay" said Agnes rather disappointed, "well I was just thinking about your decision to move to Denver; honestly I think that it's actually great but when I look back, we've lived here our entire lives. I was literally born in this house, according to you guys I took my first baby steps in this very dining room, walked out that door for my first day of school, we have so many great memories in this house, and this place is our home, please, we can't just up and leave it", her parents looked convinced, they looked down at her with care and compassion and placed their hands over hers. "we are really sorry sweetheart but the truth is the decision is out of our hands now, the papers are already signed and besides this will be good for the family, I know you love it here but it's as they say "change is good for the soul", so try to give it a chance, please, and trust me you're going to fall in love with the place once you get there." "Sure thing mom, anything for you" she said desperately trying to fight back tears, "I'll be in my room", she said sadly heading towards the stairs.