Back to school shopping was always a fun “chore,” among Penelope’s favorites, actually. There was just something… exciting about going down the aisles and gathering new class materials for a new year. It was almost like a fresh start, and after the summer she had had, Penelope felt like she could use one.

When it came to clothes shopping, however, the teenager was far less enthusiastic. She didn’t really know why her mother insisted that she get new clothes before the school year considering the strict standards of Crystal Academy’s dress code. Maybe her mother hoped that by getting a few sets of new clothes each year, Penelope would look good on the occasions that she stepped out of the house to go on a field trip or to meet some friends. Or maybe she just genuinely valued their time together but felt like she could offer her daughter more help in terms of fashion as opposed with which pen would be best to write with.

Currently Penelope stood in the dressing room of a New York and Company, trying on the seemingly never ending pile of dresses, tops, skirts, and pants that her mother brought to her and hung over the top of the door. Her mother, at least, agreed to stick to [i[some ground rules: nothing too revealing, nothing transparent, nothing neon. But that still left a wealth of patterns, prints, materials, and styles for her to pick out for her daughter.

Some pieces Penelope rejected outright and told her mother why. Lois Seneca would then, unperturbed, either agree or disagree and go out and look again amongst the rack. At the moment, the dark-haired teen was modeling a knee-length hounds tooth print skirt with a frilly white blouse. She considered herself in the mirror before shaking her head. No—not going to work. “I kind of like the skirt… but not this blouse. I’m taking it off now.”

“No way! The blouse falls under all your preferences—don’t take it off yet, I want to come in and see it. I’ll bet it looks lovely!”

“No, Momma, don’t!” The door swung open despite her hurried protests, and though Penelope managed to half pull down on the blouse she had been trying to remove, the half-healed bruises and scrapes on her stomach (gifts from all the patrolling and youma fighting she had been doing lately) were still completely visible when her mother came in the room. She didn’t have to wonder if her mother saw them because Lois Seneca instantly entered the dressing room with her and closed the door so fast it was a small miracle that it hadn’t slammed shut. Her voice was low but worried, and she stretched her hands out towards her daughter, “Penelope, what on earth happened? Take off that shirt and let me get a better look!”

“Momma, please… it’s not a big deal, honestly.”

“Not a big… look at the size of those bruises! And are those brush burns or actual scrapes?” Now Penelope’s mother had entered full blown worry mode, investigating the wounds with her hands as well as her eyes. “What on earth did you do to yourself?”

Penelope’s mind raced to come up with an excuse. She certainly couldn’t tell her mother the truth—that she had been chosen to be a warrior in a war where she transformed into a pretty chic outfit and could summon an energy shield to help defeat the evil forces of the Negaverse. She needed an excuse, a physical activity that could account for these wounds… and so, she blurted out, “I was… I was trying to learn to ride horses, with Harper. I just… um… I wasn’t very good at it…”

Lois sighed, taking a seat on the small bench within the dressing room and tussling her long brown hair, a clear sign of irritation. Or exasperation—either was likely. “I see. One more thing on top of everything else, huh?”

“Momma… Momma, please…”

Despite Penelope’s attempt to offer a clearer explanation, her mother cut her off, “No, no, let me finish. This summer started with you going to volunteer with your father. Then, you wanted to start a debate team. Now, you’re saying you went to try and learn how to ride horses, something you’ve never been interested in before. Doesn’t that sound like a lot to balance to you?”

The teenager didn’t have anything to say, nothing that wouldn’t make this lecture worse. She knew that she had failed so much over this summer. She had only done about half of what she had hoped to do to help her father, had hung up some posters to start her debate team and nothing else had come of it and likely wouldn’t until the start of the upcoming semester. She set her lips firmly, and Lois Seneca seemed to instantly read her expression, “Sweetheart, I fully believe that you can do anything you set your mind to, but I worry because… because you try to do everything. Volunteer if you like, set up your debate team if it makes you happy, learn to ride a horse if you want, but… don’t do it because you think your father needs help or you want to show me that you can stand up for yourself or… or because you want an excuse to spend more time with Harper. Just do… what you want, do it for yourself.”

Then, in a final burst of energy her mother blurted out, “And don’t… don’t just keep pushing yourself like this to the point that you hurt yourself! These injuries aren’t that bad, but Pene, what if you had gotten hurt worse? Were you just going to try and hide it from me and your father until we finally noticed that you had some serious injury? You need to tell us if something like this happens so that we can take care of you, so that we don’t worry that you’ll get into something over your head. Okay?”

Penelope nodded guiltily, knowing that her mother was right and not really having anything to add to her speech. “Okay, Momma, I promise. If I get hurt, I’ll tell you and Daddy right away. And… and I’ll try to take it easier, to be more careful.”

“That’s all I’m asking, honey. Now… how about we check out here and go to the food court and get some strawberry cheesecake yogurt?” Seeing her daughter’s hesitation, Lois teased, “C’mon, Pene… it’s my treat—payment for making you listen to all that lecturing. And the yogurt’s fat-free~”

Despite all that had happened over the summer and all the concerns that continued to weigh down on her… Penelope couldn’t help but smile at her mother’s enthusiasm. Somehow, even if it had only been in a half truthful way, she felt better knowing that she (at least) wouldn’t have to hide her injuries from her parents anymore. She truly didn’t want to worry them, and if this would help, even in only some small capacity, well, it was the least she could do. Her mother’s lecture didn’t completely eliminate her worries, but it did make the burden of her responsibilities somewhat easier. She nodded, “Okay… let me just get out of these clothes and grab the ones we decided on, and we can go.”

“That’s my girl!”

[OOC Note:
Participant: Penelope Seneca
Player: Quicksilver the Archangel
Word Count: 1,224]