Before She Hits the Roof

By EA Young

Short-tempered, high-strung eleven-year-old Clorette, thrilled that sixth grade is over, revs up for a summer of computer games, chatting, emails, and surfing the Internet—unaware of the plans her parents have arranged outdoors away from the computer before her short temper takes her to a level of destruction she cannot control. Will her itchy-button-pushing fingers soon close into a fist?

• Language: English
• Publisher: EA Young
• Release date: Mar 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781005774776

EA Young

I graduated from Hollins University, VA with a Bachelor’s Degree in Studio Art, concentrating on Illustration, Animation, and Landscaping after graduating from CUNY with an Associate's Degree in Liberal Arts. Throughout it all, I have spent over 40 years on independent writing keeping 7 journals—3 illustrated, 4 written, and a separate journal for collecting dreams which I later turn into stories. In December of 2000, I completed my third-level personal writing course with The Institute of Children’s Literature, learning how to dig words out of my mind in a more constructive way.

Book preview

Before She Hits the Roof

By E.A. Young

Copyright 2020 E.A. Young

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1

Clorette burst into her room and dropped her backpack, which felt light as a feather. She raced to her computer, pressed the tower and monitor buttons, and turned the speaker knob. As her computer flashed to life, she kicked off her shoes.

Thinking to check her email first, Clorette ran down her input list posted on the monitor and saw a message from her mom’s work account.

She clicked it open and read, Hi, sweetheart. I’ll be home early today to celebrate your first day of summer. We can start on the backyard. Your dad is looking forward to this and it will be good exercise for you. See you soon. Love, Mom."

Thrilled that sixth grade was finally over Clorette checked to see if any of her friends were in their chat room. The room was empty. Highlighting her friend Sylvia’s address, Clorette keyed in, Sylvia, are you free? Then she moved her mouse to the upper left-hand corner and clicked Send.

Waiting for a response, Clorette glanced at her computer and video games stacked along the shelves, including the three new software game programs she had ordered to play with them over summer break. She could hardly wait to get started. School had ended at noon, and Clorette was wasting no time beginning her summer plans.

She pulled her thick and shiny brown shoulder-length hair back into a ponytail and moved her chair closer to the desk.

Her computer started singing. Sylvia’s reply message appeared Yep. and Clorette keyed in, Hi, Sylvia. Got new game program. Ready? She pressed Send.

Punch! flashed on her screen. Clorette keyed the name of the software program onto the computer screen and sent it.

Clorrie, baby! her father called, walking in with his arms outstretched. His hands and the front of his shirt were covered with soil. Why didn’t you tell me you were home?

I wanted to check my email. Clorette’s eyes continued to stare at the screen. Her friend wrote back, Cool! What time should I come?

How ’bout we get started out back, huh? her father asked, kissing her forehead. The cement’s hard and I’m just about to get the garden hose. You—

I’ve already planned to do something with Sylvia, Clorette interrupted. She’s coming over now. She felt stiff below her neck as she pressed the computer keys.

I don’t believe this, her father said with his arms still extended. Sitting behind a school desk for ten months, and now you’re glued to this one? He stood beside her.

Clorette did not answer her father. She read the message from Sylvia, telling her she would be right over to play after she finished her lunch and that their friend, Tarik, bought the same game and maybe he would like to come.

I took my vacation this week, thinking we could spend some time together. Her father raised a soiled hand to the window. Look at all that fresh air and sunshine going to waste. Didn’t you get your yearly supply of surfing, chat-rooming, and clicking away at that screen during school? Well, besides what happened to your discs, I mean.

Sighing, Clorette sent Tarik a message. She saw that he was not online so she thought she would get back to him later when suddenly a return message popped on her screen.

Who’s this? the message read across her screen.

It’s me, Clorette. Come over. Sylvia and me. Got game program, she keyed in, not understanding why Tarik did not recognize her return email address, which should have appeared on his screen. She clicked Send and waited.

I thought we would work together on the pond today, her father said.

It’s too hot outside, she told him.

Not in the backyard, her father said. Under the trees it’s nice and—

Dad, I really want to get started on this. I’ve been planning for months now.

Her father leaned closer to her. Clorrie, baby, I know computers are a wonderful access and can open up the world for you, but you need to expand yourself to other things.

A message came on the screen, Can’t. Buddy Damon and me doing football.

Clorette stared at the screen. Tarik had never turned her down before.

She keyed in, But it’s the first day of summer.

I think you’re taking your misfortune with the discs a little too hard, her father said, rubbing his nose with his shirt-sleeve.

Tarik’s next message read, And we’re going outside.

Confused, Clorette keyed in, But all the new game programs I ordered are here. We were going to explore the new science website and create our own Internet puzzle, remember? And check out some more paint crafts with Sylvia.

Clorrie, her father called. Baby, you can’t keep watch over all your things twenty-four hours a day, ya know. You have to leave your room sometimes.

Clorette cringed and inched over in her seat, away from her muddy father. Meanwhile the words No chance! flashed across her screen. She moved her hands away from the keyboard and stared at the wall, wondering if she were dreaming.

Why would Tarik act that way toward her? Is something wrong? she typed.

She waited but got no answer. She keyed in, Hello?

The message, No chance! flashed across her screen again. The words glared out at her, the muscles on the back of her neck stiffened even more, and her blood rushed to her head.

Are you mad at me? she keyed in.

She waited but nothing came back.

How long do you plan on staying locked up in here? her father asked, picking loose dirt from under his fingernails.

I don’t know. She narrowed her eyes and decided to connect back with Sylvia to ask what was wrong with Tarik.

Sylvia was not online, so Clorette sent another message to Tarik. She started to think that maybe it was not him on the computer. She keyed in, Why are you acting like this? and clicked Send.

She waited for his answer. It did not come. She started to send another message when Tarik answered.

Hi, Clor, it said. What are you talking about?

I sent you a message to come over, and you tell me no chance because you’re playing football, she typed as her father left the room, shaking his head.

When did you send it? he asked her.

Clorette clenched her teeth. Just now! she keyed in. Is someone else using your computer?

My new friend Damon is here, Tarik explained to her. He said he was trying it out. Why?

"Because he said you weren’t interested in playing the