I'm Just a Teenager
Fandom: Sarah Connor Chronicles
Rating: PG
Characters: John + Cameron
I'm a teenager. Most days that's all I want to be. I don't want to have to be a hero, a savior, an anything that Cameron tells me I am. Sometimes I lie in bed at night and stare at the posters on my ceiling of bands I don't yet quite know and dream about how tomorrow is just another day of school.
Mom will come in my room and shake me awake. I'll roll over and go back to sleep because that's what teenagers do. Then, a day will go by where I drift from class to class, making jokes with my friends, checking out the hot girls, and not once have to contemplate the easiest exit route from my classrooms.
After just a few days of school I already know how to get out of all my classes. Which windows are most likely to be open. How far they are from the ground. Which classrooms have two doorways. I always sit close to the window if possible. It makes my chance of escape so much easier.
"John." Cameron comes into the kitchen. She's holding a schoolbook, walking towards me and not even looking where she's going. Yet she doesn't bump her hip on the counter or jar her elbow into the refrigerator's handle. Watching her maneuver is like watching someone dance.
"What?" I'm glad for the distraction. Going from daydreams of regular life to soaring out windows - not always the best way to remain calm about your life. Except if you're Mom. Only if you're mom.
"I don't understand." She places the book down on the wooden table in the kitchen's center. Inside isn't what I expected. Not a mathematical equation (which she wouldn't have come to me with anyway) or a poem (that I know by now she most definitely doesn't understand). Instead, loosely tucked between the pages, is a piece of paper. It's folded in half and obviously came out of someone's notes binder. Whoever it was didn't bother to tear the ragged edges off the paper.
"I found it in my book," she explains.
I take the paper out of the book and unfold it. The handwriting inside is bold, dark, very masculine. It reads -
Come with me to the Winter Formal. Flowers next week. You're beautiful."
I feel a smile creep across my face. "Someone's got a crush on you!" I say in a sing-song voice. Cameron cocks her head.
"I don't understand."
"You know. A guy thinks you're cute. He wants to take you on a date."
"I see." It's clear that she doesn't. I sigh and try to think of a better way to explain. I'm afraid that if I get too broad she'll get tied up in the large picture - mating and pheromones and all of that. Does she even have pheromones?
Different tactic. I take her arm and have her sit down next to me. "You know that people love, right?"
"Yes. Love: A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. A feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend. A sexual passion or desire. Sexual inter-"
"Wait, wait!" I cut in. "Enough with the definitions!" I run my hand through my hair. It needs a cut. "That's technically what it is, but what I'm trying to explain is that through crushes is how we get to love." Nice work on the 'not taking the broad route,' John. "What I'm trying to say is that whoever this is thinks for some reason that you look good and being around you makes him feel good, so he wants to spend more time with you by taking you out to get to know you better."
Cameron analyzes this information. "I see. Should I date him?"
"Whoa." I put my hands out in front of me. "That's up to you. I'm not sure what to say. Either Mom would support this because you would fit in or she'd hate it because you'd stand out. Besides, if you're out on a date how can you protect me?"
A stab of guilt goes through my body and I have to remind myself that she doesn't have feelings. However, I do, and I try to push aside my vague sensation of jealousy. Who cares if she goes on a date? I can be alone in my own house.
"You're right. I will ask Sarah Connor." Cameron climbs to her feet and begins to leave the kitchen, then turns back around. "What did I do to make him like me?"
I shrug. "You didn't do anything. Sometimes you don't have a choice in where you end up."
Cameron blinks at me and leaves.
I laugh at myself a little. Here I am, sitting in the kitchen and bellyaching over my troubles and my supposed destiny, and I have the answer all long. It takes a Terminator to protect me, but sometimes it takes a Terminator to teach me.
I may want to be normal, but I'm not. I don't have a choice to end up where I am now, so it's a fate I must accept. But like a date, it's also something I can choose to change or direct. I'm not a victim. I'm a leader.
Rating: PG
Characters: John + Cameron
I'm a teenager. Most days that's all I want to be. I don't want to have to be a hero, a savior, an anything that Cameron tells me I am. Sometimes I lie in bed at night and stare at the posters on my ceiling of bands I don't yet quite know and dream about how tomorrow is just another day of school.
Mom will come in my room and shake me awake. I'll roll over and go back to sleep because that's what teenagers do. Then, a day will go by where I drift from class to class, making jokes with my friends, checking out the hot girls, and not once have to contemplate the easiest exit route from my classrooms.
After just a few days of school I already know how to get out of all my classes. Which windows are most likely to be open. How far they are from the ground. Which classrooms have two doorways. I always sit close to the window if possible. It makes my chance of escape so much easier.
"John." Cameron comes into the kitchen. She's holding a schoolbook, walking towards me and not even looking where she's going. Yet she doesn't bump her hip on the counter or jar her elbow into the refrigerator's handle. Watching her maneuver is like watching someone dance.
"What?" I'm glad for the distraction. Going from daydreams of regular life to soaring out windows - not always the best way to remain calm about your life. Except if you're Mom. Only if you're mom.
"I don't understand." She places the book down on the wooden table in the kitchen's center. Inside isn't what I expected. Not a mathematical equation (which she wouldn't have come to me with anyway) or a poem (that I know by now she most definitely doesn't understand). Instead, loosely tucked between the pages, is a piece of paper. It's folded in half and obviously came out of someone's notes binder. Whoever it was didn't bother to tear the ragged edges off the paper.
"I found it in my book," she explains.
I take the paper out of the book and unfold it. The handwriting inside is bold, dark, very masculine. It reads -
Come with me to the Winter Formal. Flowers next week. You're beautiful."
I feel a smile creep across my face. "Someone's got a crush on you!" I say in a sing-song voice. Cameron cocks her head.
"I don't understand."
"You know. A guy thinks you're cute. He wants to take you on a date."
"I see." It's clear that she doesn't. I sigh and try to think of a better way to explain. I'm afraid that if I get too broad she'll get tied up in the large picture - mating and pheromones and all of that. Does she even have pheromones?
Different tactic. I take her arm and have her sit down next to me. "You know that people love, right?"
"Yes. Love: A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. A feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend. A sexual passion or desire. Sexual inter-"
"Wait, wait!" I cut in. "Enough with the definitions!" I run my hand through my hair. It needs a cut. "That's technically what it is, but what I'm trying to explain is that through crushes is how we get to love." Nice work on the 'not taking the broad route,' John. "What I'm trying to say is that whoever this is thinks for some reason that you look good and being around you makes him feel good, so he wants to spend more time with you by taking you out to get to know you better."
Cameron analyzes this information. "I see. Should I date him?"
"Whoa." I put my hands out in front of me. "That's up to you. I'm not sure what to say. Either Mom would support this because you would fit in or she'd hate it because you'd stand out. Besides, if you're out on a date how can you protect me?"
A stab of guilt goes through my body and I have to remind myself that she doesn't have feelings. However, I do, and I try to push aside my vague sensation of jealousy. Who cares if she goes on a date? I can be alone in my own house.
"You're right. I will ask Sarah Connor." Cameron climbs to her feet and begins to leave the kitchen, then turns back around. "What did I do to make him like me?"
I shrug. "You didn't do anything. Sometimes you don't have a choice in where you end up."
Cameron blinks at me and leaves.
I laugh at myself a little. Here I am, sitting in the kitchen and bellyaching over my troubles and my supposed destiny, and I have the answer all long. It takes a Terminator to protect me, but sometimes it takes a Terminator to teach me.
I may want to be normal, but I'm not. I don't have a choice to end up where I am now, so it's a fate I must accept. But like a date, it's also something I can choose to change or direct. I'm not a victim. I'm a leader.