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Rated: E · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2260360
Like father, like son.
The Renegade
WC 275


I was pouring milk on my Cheerios when my dad walked into the kitchen. He had that look on his face.

“You broke the rules!”

“I thought that was a good thing, Dad.”

“What in the world gave you that idea, Davey?”

My father called himself a renegade. I looked up the definition of renegade on the Internet. It meant: one who does not play by the rules.

I was confused.

“I thought I’d change my curfew from 10 to 11 since I'm now sixteen. I figured that would be okay. Mom isn’t home, after all.”

“You are not serious, young man!”

“Just temporarily, just until Mom gets home.”

My mother was on a business trip and wouldn’t be home for two weeks. She was anything but a renegade.

“She calls every night at ten to make sure you’re home.”

He did have a point.

“You could say I was sleeping.”

“You mean I should lie to your mother?”

I knew he understood me. After all, he was a renegade and had been sixteen once.

“Dad, please? Just until Mom gets back. Just two weeks, please?”

“Son, I can’t, as much as I would like to. Trust is an important thing in a marriage. As much as I truly understand your need to be treated more like an adult, I must respect your mother’s rules.”

He needed me to be grown-up enough to follow the household rules and not break them, no matter what. That was something I could understand.

“So, what time will you be home tonight, Davey?”

“Ten.”

“That a boy.”

I might push it to 10:30 and see what happens. We’ll see.
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