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Prodigal

4.1

~4.1~

“Emmy…Emmy, there’s a cone there, there’s a … WATCH OUT!” Dad screeched as I drove through the practice parking lot. I had just gotten my learner’s permit, and Luke Hemmings, my father, was teaching me how to drive in the parking lot full of cones that you take your test in.

“Emmy, CONE!” He screamed, while curling up his body into a ball on the passenger seat. He was more stressed than I had ever seen him before when I was trying to drive a car.

He had started calling me Emmy; that was his nickname for me. It was a decent nickname. It was familiar enough to my born name Emmett but feminine enough for me.

“Stop!” Dad finally yelped.

Inadvertently slamming on the brakes, we both jerked forward, only being caught by our seat belts locking.

There was a moment of silence.

“Well, it’s true what they say.” Dad started. “Women can’t drive.”

“Sexist!” I shot back, pretending to be triggered even though I knew from his tone that he was joking. Dad jokes, haha.

“Let’s just call it a day and go home.” Dad suggested.

“Okay.” I complied. “Is it okay if I drive?”

“I guess…” Dad agreed cautiously. “Then we should probably start packing once we get home.

“We still have four days until we leave.” I pointed out.

In four days, we were leaving for Raleigh, North Carolina in the United States for the Platinum Pen contest that I had been entered in for my speech on transgender issues/rights. There would be 150 of us in a big auditorium, and we would each give our speech in front of a huge crowd. Judges would then critique us. The winner always gets a lot of scholarships and college offers. No pressure.

“You still have to modify your speech before presenting.” Dad reminded.

I had to change my speech a little to make it more appropriate for the audience that I would have in North Carolina, since, my original speech lowkey attacked specific people in my English class (Not going to name names…Ethan.)

The problem is, I had no idea how I wanted to modify it.