"Meggie, set an extra plate." her father spoke, barely looking up from several pages he was looking over. "And put something

on that's nice."  There was nothing un-nice about what she had on - a pair of loose-fitting, comfy jeans and a sweater, neither were, well too tattered.  Hhm, nice - that was some sort of code word, but where it was going? ..wasn't just her math assignment that wasn't quite  adding up.  She went into the kitchen to check on the spaghetti, gave it a stirr, then turned it down to warm.  

Who was coming to supper?  Not that she really much cared.  Usually, it was some guy, and her Father and the guest would go on about runs, rides and what it took to keep em roadeworthy.  Didn't matter; their conversations bored her.  Frankly, for all it was worth, she might as well had not even been in the room; she just worked in the joint, Meggie quipped to herself, while heading upstairs.

Meggie was rather bummed out.  While she wasn't the materialistic type, still she had hoped her Father would buy her a computer  - the one she had tended fo go into artic-mode.  Having turned eighteen, she needed a reliable 'puter for things like ... uhm, sending JOB resumes.  Though, she had several months until graduation, the guidance counselor, Miss Poole, said that it's good to get an early start, get accustomed to the different software employers use.  In short, took a 'puter, working in the temperate zone.   Sure, her school laptop would do, but the school had all kinds of user policies, that left her confused - would really inhale to get access minimized.  

There's first the tropics, her mind  - which tended to wander off - begn to ponder, while her body climbed into the showert.  Where did that gave way to the sub tropics, and where did the temperate area start, and gave way to the sub artic, and then...

"MEGGIE..!"

Dried off, she entered her room.  From outside, she heard the loud roar of an engine cease, when its metal housing had reached its destination.   She ran a brush through her still damp hair.  Sometimes, she would give the ends a quick touch up with her curling iron, but not now; anyway, the thing no longer heated up very well.

She needed to get a job - and have atleast alittle of her own dough - but Father wouldn't let her work after school.  Father wouldn't let her do anything, or go anywhere.  Not even school stuff.  She glanced at the globe which sat on her dresser, in a bowl - because the stand which had held it, had, two or three years ago, snapped in half, during the last move, from several states away.  It had been a sudden one.  Not the smartest kid in the class, but she knew, not to ask questions.  

"Something nice."  The floral dress of heavy denim hung in the closet.  The space wasn't large, but since she didn't have much to hang, there was no problem.  Yeah, she liked it allright enough, but she'd of rather had the 'puter.