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Max hummed to himself as he made omelets for breakfast for himself and his two grandkids. Gwen was already awake and “freshening up” in the bathroom, as she put it. Ben was fast asleep on the bottom bunk.
Gwen opened the bathroom door, dressed in her usual blue shirt and white capris. Her hair was fully brushed and face washed. Gwen beamed, “Ahh, nothing like a good shower to start the day.”
Gwen turned to their shared bunk. She noted the lump on the bottom bunk. “Ben’s still not up?”
“No, but if he doesn’t get up soon, he’s gonna miss breakfast. Do me a favor and wake him, will you?” Grandpa Max flipped an omelet.
A mischievous grin stretched across Gwen’s face. She tip-toed towards the bunk, careful not to make a sound. She stuck a finger into her mouth, and with as much salvia as she could manage, coated her finger. She popped it out of her mouth and stuck it into Ben’s ear.
“AHH!” Ben screamed. He shot up straight up in bed, throwing the blankets off. He rubbed his wet ear on his shoulder, glaring at Gwen.
She laughed. “Actually, the best way to start the day is with a good laugh!”
Ben grumbled something as he pushed his cousin to the side. He went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Gwen sat down at the table as Max set three plates of food down. “What am I going to do with the two of you? You could stand to be a little nicer to one another,” Max commented.
“Yeah, but Ben’s weird, Grandpa. He deserves it.”
Ben stepped out of the bathroom, hair still frazzled and unbrushed. His eyes remained half lidded and a frown sat plainly on his face. His shoulders dropped and he let his arms dangle loosely at his side. He shuffled over to the kitchen table, taking his unofficial seat. His eyes settled on the plate of food in front of him—a green-and-yellow-looking egg pancake.
“Wombat Omelets! I learned this special recipe years ago while I traveled the… world. I think you two will love it!”
Gwen sticks out her tongue, “Yuck! Grandpa, when are you going to make something normal?” She cautiously prodded the eggs with the prongs of her fork.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, Gwen!” Max said with a smile. “You too, sport!” turning his attention to Ben.
Ben leaned on his hand, his elbow propped up on the table. The frown he had coming out of the bathroom was still prominent on his face. Ben pushed the eggs from one side of his plate to the other side.
Max, taking note of Ben’s bad mood, asked, “What’s wrong Ben?”
“I’m just - not hungry is all.” Ben stood up and slid himself out of the table seat. “I’m gonna get dressed…”
Ben pulled the curtain across the top of the RV, splitting off the bathroom and the bunk beds from the rest of the RV.
Gwen’s eyes lingered on the curtain, confusion obvious on her face. She looked up at Grandpa Max. He mirrored her confusion, mixed with concern.
The day passed with no fanfare. The trio were traveling to Yosemite, where Max had reserved a campsite for them to use later that night. Gwen used her laptop and Ben listened to music on his mp3 player. He stared out the window, watching the electrical lines connect from pole to pole.
Gwen looked up from her laptop. Ben’s elbow was on the table, propping his head up. Gwen couldn’t see his face. He hadn’t teased her all day (a new record for Ben), let alone looked at her.
As much as Gwen enjoyed the peace, she was also bored. She enjoyed researching things on her laptop, but after reading the ump-teenth page on Wifipedia, even she was getting stir-crazy…
Gwen grabbed Ben’s elbow and pulled it out from under him. Ben’s head almost hit the table, the sudden movement pulling him out of his trance.
“Hey! Whatcha do that for?” Ben accused.
“Do what?” Gwen feigned innocence.
Ben opened his mouth to continue arguing before shutting it abruptly. He stared at Gwen a little longer, eyes shifting across Gwen’s face. “Whatever…” Ben relented. He shuffled out of the table, and walked over to the bottom bunk at the back of the RV. He laid down, wrapping himself completely with his previously discarded blanket. He curled tightly into a ball, headphones planted firmly on his head.
Gwen watched on sadly as Ben shut down any fight they could have had.
Max had watched the situation from the rear-view mirror in the front seat. “Uhh,” Max began cautiously. “Y’know, there’s a little town up just ahead. How about the three of us stretch our legs and get some ice cream?”
Gwen’s face lit up. Ben didn’t move at all.
The three entered the humble ice cream store. “Since we’ve been driving all day, you two can get as much as you want,” Max offered.
“Really?!” Gwen asked. Ben stood by her side, quiet, looking at the floor.
Max nodded. Gwen ran up to the display of ice cream tubs. Ben walked sluggishly behind her, looking at the display in ice cream in front of him. Max himself took a spot next to Gwen, looking at the flavors himself.
“Look, Ben, there’s like fifty flavors here! They got mint chip, chocolate brownie, oooh—they even have cotton candy!” Gwen looked over at Ben, who stared down at the myriad of ice cream flavors. Ben’s eyes were glazed over. Gwen wasn’t even sure if Ben knew there was ice cream in front of him.
Gwen pulled Ben’s arm, leading him over to the right. “Wooow, Ben!” Gwen tried to replicate her initial excitement. “They have bubblegum, rainbow sherbet, and even… squid surprise?”
“I know which one I’m getting!,” Max called out.
Gwen looked back at Ben, face still blank. Gwen’s brows furrowed. Well, she wasn’t going to let Ben’s bad attitude ruin her ice cream.
At checkout, Max had decided on one scoop of squid surprise. Gwen had decided on three scoops: cotton candy, mint chocolate chip, and plain vanilla. And Ben had decided on… one scoop of strawberry.
Outside the ice cream shop, the three ate in silence. Max had tried starting a conversation between his two grandkids, but Gwen was busy devouring her three scoops of ice cream, mouth always full; and Ben gave short responses to Max’s questions. Max noticed that Ben barely ate his ice cream. Max wasn’t even sure if Ben liked strawberry-flavored ice cream.
By the time Max and Gwen had finished their ice cream, Ben was only half way through his own.
Ben looked down at his ice cream, melting and dripping down the sides of the cone. “Grandpa,” Ben said, “I think I’m done.”
“Oh,” Grandpa was surprised, when did Ben ever not finish a dessert? “Okay. Go ahead and throw it away, and we can get back on the road.” Max watched as Ben threw his ice cream away into a nearby trash can.
Max and Gwen watched as Ben entered the Rustbucket, before sharing a look of concern once again.
The three had begun setting up camp. Max had thrown some dried twigs and branches into the campsite’s fire pit.
“Wooo,” Max swiped the sweat away from his forehead. Max turned to Ben, “Say, Ben, we could really use Heatblast to get this fire started.” Ben had looked at his watch for a moment before simply standing from where he was sitting one of the logs, and went into the Rustbucket. He exited a moment later with a box of matches. Ben swiped one across the box, igniting it, and then threw the match into the fire pit. Ben flopped down onto the log once again. He looked at the fire, but it was clear he was thinking about something else, mind completely preoccupied.
Gwen had her arms full with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars. Max thought, hopefully, some s’mores could cheer Ben up…
As night fell, the three roasted marshmallows. Max and Gwen ate their third s’more of the night, as Ben nibbled on his first.
“Gwen,” Max said. Gwen looked at her grandfather, chocolate smeared around her mouth. “Can you get some more marshmallows from the RV?” With a wink, he added, “Take your time.”
Gwen looked between Max and Ben, and understood. Gwen stood up and ran inside the Rustbucket, tightly shutting the door behind her.
Max stood and walked over to Ben, taking the spot next to him on the log. He put an arm around Ben’s shoulders, "What's wrong kiddo? You’ve been down all day."
Ben fidgeted in his seat for a moment. He couldn’t look his grandfather in the eye, so he continued to stare at the dirt ground instead. "Grandpa, am I… weird?"
"Well,” Max shrugged. “Sure. Everyone's weird."
"But am I weird weird?"
"What makes you ask?"
"Gwen says I'm weird.” Ben looked at the ground, slowly kicking his feet. “I don't act like how I'm supposed to act. I don't act like a girl."
"There’s nothing weird about that."
"Gwen says if I don't act like a girl, I'll be weird. ‘I’m a girl, so I’m supposed to act like one’. I don’t want to be a girl. But I don’t want to be weird either..."
"Listen, Ben. Just because you don't act like a girl doesn't make you weird. Everyone is weird, that’s what makes everyone unique. Gwen likes clothes and nail polish, and you like video games and baseball. None of those things make you a girl or a boy. And no one can tell you different. You decide what you want to be.”
Ben looks down at his s’more, brows furrowed. Ben was a bright kid, but he was never good with philosophy.
“Think on it. I’m gonna have a quick talk with your cousin.” Max patted Ben on the back before standing up and making his way over to the Rustbucket.
Max entered the RV and saw that Gwen was peeking through the curtains. The marshmallows Max told her to retrieve were sitting forgotten on the table. When she noticed her grandpa, she stumbled back.
“Young lady, we need to have a talk,” Max said in a stern tone.
Max and Gwen sat at the kitchen table. “Ben told me that you told him he had to act like a girl. Why would you say that to him?"
“Because, if you’re born a girl, then you have to act like a girl. That’s what my mom tells me…” Gwen shuffled in her seat, nervous under the stern eyes of her grandfather, and continued. “Ben’s already weird enough with that thing on his wrist and turning into aliens. I was just looking out for him, Grandpa.”
“ I’m glad you were looking out for him, but that’s not really up to you, Gwen. It’s up to Ben if he wants to act like a ‘boy’ or a ‘girl’. Only you can choose who you want to be, no one else.”
Gwen was quiet for a moment, processing what her grandfather said. “I’m sorry, Grandpa.”
“I’m not the one who needs an apology,” stated Max.
Gwen looked down at her lap, then up at her grandpa once more. Then, she slowly shuffled out of her seat. Gwen walked out of the Rustbucket, and saw Ben sitting by the fire by himself. Gwen took a seat beside him.
“Hey, Ben…” Gwen began. Ben didn’t react.
“I said some mean things yesterday, and I’m sorry.”
Ben didn’t say anything, so Gwen continued.
“I’m sorry for calling you weird. And a girl. You’re not a girl. I mean, you don’t have to be.” She paused. “But you’re still weird. I mean, who would call someone who turns into aliens normal?”
Ben didn’t say anything. Gwen felt all the guilt and concern rise up in her throat, turning into desperation.
“A-And, I don’t want you to be a girl anyway! I already share my birthday with you, I don’t want to have to share my nice clothes with you too!”
Ben didn’t say anything.
“So just keep being your weird self, okay?!” Ben didn’t say anything. The way Ben’s face was angled down, his bangs hid his eyes. Gwen couldn’t tell if her cousin was even listening, or just being stubborn. “Say something Ben!” she yelled.
Ben turned and smiled at her, a mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes. “You can call me weird, Gwen. Who would care what a dweeb thinks anyway?”
Gwen, exasperated, said, “Did you even hear the rest of what I said? You are such a doofus.”
Max, who was watching from afar, came up and wrapped his two grandkids up in a hug from behind. The two fought to escape, but struggled against Max’s Tennyson’s strength and the bags of marshmallows he had in his hands. “Now that we’ve all made up,” Max looked between his two wonderful grandchildren. “Who wants some more s’mores?”
“Me!” Ben and Gwen both shouted.
The fire crackled and lit up the sky as Gwen teased Ben, and Ben teased back.