Mollie

17

A Broken System
The sun rose and everything fell.
Alex Carrinay stared at her destructed solar system diorama resentfully. Ten minutes of failed attempts at balancing painted rubber balls on Popsicle sticks to no avail.
“Why is everything so hard?!” She shouted at her nanny, Plecinta, who was dusting Alex’s shelves as she did every afternoon.
“That looks beautiful, Alex. You’re so talented.”
“Ugh, no one gets me,” she responded with a waft of teenage angst that whooshed right into Plecinta’s face, causing her hair to blow in the breeze of Eminem lyrics, Snapchat selfies, and reckless weekends. “I’m getting Mom.”
Ms. Carrinay’s cheeks ached from her plastered on smile. She was a Brooklyn-minded mom with an Upper East Side daughter: she had to balance her spiritual-yogi-organic lifestyle with her daughter’s Wildfox sweatshirts, Soulcycle classes, and Le Pain Quotidien brunches.
Alex found her mother outside in the garden, tending to her vegetables while humming the Grateful Dead’s “Black Throated Wind.”
“MOM. I need you to help me with my science project!!”
“Sweetie, what have I always told you about asking for help? Either you do it alone, or have someone do it for you, but don’t go so far as insulting your own intelligence by asking for help. These are basic rules of feminism!”
“MOM. I need you to do my science project for me.”
“Coming sweetie!”
Alex resembled Ms. Carrinay more than Mr. Carrinay.
Her beachey waves sprang effortlessly into place with every step she took. Alex loved her prominent cheekbones, clear skin, and slim frame— all courtesy of her mother. They jotted up the porch steps: Alex, shaking her hips as she walked, and Ms. Carrinay admiring the sky’s midday blue.
Atop Alex’s faux fur shag rug lay her dismantled solar system.
“Wow hun! Did you do this all yourself?!”
“Can you just add some stuff to it or something?”
“I’ll try, but I don’t see how this could get any better! I’m just so proud of you.”
Alex grabbed her phone and left to meet her friends.
Ms. Carrinay had loved science ever since the 8th grade when her teacher, Mr. Nepot told her there was more to life than science, and maybe she should focus on other things. She said his words gave her “drive.”
She gathered the solar system parts in the basket she weaved for Alex on a cruise, after the tour guide explained how long it took the natives to learn the art of weaving, “something Westerners would never master.”
First, Ms. Carrinay lugged the furniture from the ground floor out to the yard. She painted the empty living room a deep, navy blue, and hung thousands of tiny Christmas lights along the walls. She spent hours making giant rubber band balls and painting them like planets while listening to the ladies on The View react to Whoopi Goldberg’s shoes. The balls were connected to a single cable wire that Ms. Carrinay fastened around the doorknob. She switched on the Christmas lights, and pulled the cable wire tightly to hang the “planets.” She remembered from Physics Class with Mr. Nepot that the tension on the wire that clung to the doorknob and the planets was absolutely necessary for keeping the planets afloat. “Focus on other things?! Look at me now!” She thought triumphantly. Finally, the sun rose.
Mr. and Mrs. Karmpile, the Carrinay’s neighbors, stared through their kitchen window, stunned. Across the street, the Carrinay’s house glowed. Light seeped through the open windows like a spotlight on the night sky. The spinning planets’ reflections shimmied across nearby rooftops and danced through the shadowy streets.
Alex pulled up to the house and shielded her eyes from the glare. “Good thing I gave her a push with my original diorama” she thought. As Alex approached the house the glare grew stronger, and she struggled to find the front entrance. Alex stared at the door handle and slowly turned the knob.