Writer, editor, third descriptive noun

(Verse 1) Well, let me tell ya 'bout a little man named Krillin, A martial artist with a heart so willin', One day he met a girl, like no other he'd seen, Android 18, a beauty so serene.

(Chorus) Come listen to a tale 'bout a love so true, Krillin and Android 18, a love that grew, From the battles they fought, to the moments they shared, Their love bloomed, beyond what others dared.

(Verse 2) Now Krillin was small, but his spirit was strong, And Android 18, she didn't take long, To see his kindness and his gentle ways, She found herself drawn, through love's mysterious maze.

(Chorus) Come listen to a tale 'bout a love so true, Krillin and Android 18, a love that grew, From the battles they fought, to the moments they shared, Their love bloomed, beyond what others dared.

(Bridge) With each passing day, their bond grew tight, Side by side, in every dragonball fight, Krillin's devotion, it melted her heart, And Android 18 found love's brand-new start.

(Verse 3) Now they're a couple, an unlikely pair, Krillin and Android 18, a love beyond compare, Through the trials they faced, their love stood tall, Defying all odds, they conquered it all.

(Chorus) Come listen to a tale 'bout a love so true, Krillin and Android 18, a love that grew, From the battles they fought, to the moments they shared, Their love bloomed, beyond what others dared.

(Outro) So raise a glass to Krillin's love story, A romance that shone with Dragonball glory, In the world of Z, their love did shine, Krillin and Android 18, a love so fine.

Marron grinned. Caramel meant one thing. She grabbed a clean bowl and spoon and practically skipped to the freezer, only to find it conspicuously devoid of ice cream. She checked the trash bin—empty with a fresh liner. Nor were there any sundae toppings in the fridge or pantry, unless you counted the lone, almost too ripe banana stashed between the cereal and rice. Her grin faded to a frown, which she just managed to conceal before registering her mother’s footfalls headed toward the kitchen. Swapping the bowl for the banana and juice box, she made a hasty exit, passing by her mother and mumbling an excuse about homework.

On impulse, Marron nearly voiced her suspicions, but the sight of Mama, brow raised, staring into the sink, made her think better of it. Besides, figuring things out herself would be so much more fun, right?

***

Homework drove the notions of secret ice cream and mystery solving out of her mind. Instead, she spent the hours after school second guessing her decision to enroll in pre-Algebra. The mundane, non-headache-inducing fifth grade math most of her friends were taking seemed much more appealing these days. She shouldn’t have let Trunks tease her into signing up. Her only consolation was that the purple-haired son of a genius was struggling with the subject as much as she was.

After dinner, she transferred her homework from the dining table to the desk in her room and alternated between quadratic equations and texting in the group chat she shared with Trunks, Goten, and a few other friends. After dogpiling on Goten for his cheerful proclamation that he finished his math homework hours ago (he was in general math), she and Trunks collaborated on one of the toughest problems. At 9:30 PM, she finally set down her pencil and flopped into bed. Five minutes later, she sat bolt upright.

“The dishes!”

She rushed downstairs and, as she neared the kitchen, noticed faint light coming from underneath the door and what sounded like silverware clanking against porcelain. If her parents were washing the dishes she neglected, she’d be so embarrassed.

Forcing herself to slow down—over the years, she’d smacked more than one person with a hastily thrown open door—she eased the door open and slid the dimmer switch upward to fully illuminate the kitchen. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmured. “I for...got.”

All thoughts of chores faded as she found her parents huddled, not over the sink, but over a plastic container with what appeared to be an even mix of caramel and ice cream. The words on the container were hard to see, half obscured by the plastic grocery bag in which it set. Marron could just about make out “gelato” and “indulgence.” Mama paused, spoon an inch away from her mouth. Papa dropped his spoon, and it clattered to the table, spilling caramel and melted ice cream onto the wood. Mama shot him an annoyed look and gestured for the roll of paper towels in the middle of the table.

Marron found her voice. “I-is that ice cream?”

Mama met her eyes. “No.”

Papa retrieved his spoon and wiped it with a paper towel. “It’s gelato.”

Mama continued. “You wouldn’t like it. It’s got caramel and...” She looked at the container as if searching for the proper word. “...Crunchy stuff.”

Marron blinked. “I like caramel.”

Mama said, “It’s for adults.”

Papa inserted his now clean spoon into the container and grinned. “I’m an adult.” Marron thought about arguing further, but the whole event was just too surreal. She decided to chalk it all up to a homework-induced stress dream and go back to bed. For once, she would leave the dishes to the morning, and if she found more ice cream covered bowls and spoons than yesterday, she would roundly ignore them.

***

One late night, six years and five advanced math courses later, Marron found herself on the other side of this bizarre happening. An unopened letter from Satan City Polytechnic Institute lay on the table before her. It contained the response to her early admissions application. Also on the table were three bowls--one for each of her parents, and one for her. Her first taste of gelato brought to mind three words: Worth. The. Wait.

“Are you ready to open it,” Papa asked.

Marron toyed with the flap of the envelope, well-worn from hours of peeling it back a little at a time.

“Don’t rush her,” Mama said.

Marron pushed the envelope to Papa. “I’m still too nervous. You—”

“Is that ice cream?” a voice interrupted.

Marron turned her head to see a shrimp with an unruly mop of black hair rubbing sleep from his eyes. Jacin. And where one of her twin brothers was, the other...

Jaden, his blonde hair as messy as his brothers, was far more awake. He grinned and started for the table. “All right!”

Marron rolled her eyes, but then an idea formed. “No.”

“Aww,” Jaden whined. “Dad, we can have some, right?”

“No,” Marron repeated. “It isn’t ice cream.

That stopped the boys in their tracks.

Marron continued, “It’s gelato, and it’s for adults. Right, Papa?”

Papa chuckled. “Sorry, boys. Your sister is right.”

“It’s got caramel and crunchy bits,” Mama added. “You wouldn’t like it.”

“We like caramel,” Jacin squeaked.

Mama rose, smiling to herself. “Come on, I think we have some mint chocolate chip in the freezer.”

The boys perked up but deflated when Mama added, “But only half a cup each. It’s past your bedtime.”

“You can have gelato when you’re older, “Marron called out. “When you’re both adults.” She turned back to the table to avoid any rude gestures the boys might send her way. That’s right. She looked down at the acceptance letter. I am an adult, and I should act like it.

Pushing her bowl aside, she picked up the letter and tore open the envelope. Mama paused at the freezer, and she and Papa shared a glance. Marron took a deep breath and pulled out and unfolded the single sheet of paper within. The shriek of delight that followed shook the house.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t fully an adult, but what would be the fun in that?

The End

***