ten counts of assault with a deadly weapon. She wanted to know why I’d thrown off the shackles of parental responsibility at such a young age and what I was doing for A-levels and whether I had a part-time job and why my hair was grey.
I could tell that she didn’t like me. People’s mothers never do and it wasn’t like I cared whether she liked me or not – I was never going to see her again – but when someone gives me attitude, I can’t help but see their attitude and raise it.
So, instead of being polite and simply answering herquestions with monosyllabic replies like any normal seventeenyear-old would, I got really, really defensive. When I wasn’t being all TMI.
‘My mum’s in Peru being touchy-feely with women prisoners. She’s trying to teach them how to meditate,’ I said. ‘And my dad’s moved to Spain to run a bar and get drunk every night for free. Believe me, I’m better off without them and their mid-life crises.’
I didn’t just stop there. Not when I could say, ‘Anyway, friends are the new family and Gustav and Harry who live in the flat next door come round once a month to force me to tidy up and eat some vegetables.’
‘I can’t really see the point of going to university,’ I also said. ‘I’m already my own lifestyle brand and I can just hire a business manager to take care of the number crunching. Anyway, what’s the point of getting a degree
and
tens of thousands of pounds’ worth of debt? Waste of time.’
I was being so objectionable and obnoxious and obstreperous and many other unflattering words that didn’t begin with an o that I wanted to put down my chopsticks and slap myself around the face. From the frigid expression on Michael’s mum’s (sorry,
Kathy’s
) face, I think she did too.
It wasn’t until we were having pudding – a very disappointing fruit salad with Greek yoghurt – that I finally stopped talking, but Kathy wasn’t done. ‘So, how did you sprain your ankle?’ she asked.
‘Well, I had an argument with my bike and the ground,’ I said quickly, but I wasn’t quick enough to get in there before Michael.
‘Itwas my fault,’ he said right over me. ‘I kinda threw Jeane off her bike.’
‘Michael! Why would you do something like that?’ Kathy demanded. ‘That’s not how you were raised.’
I shot Michael a reproachful look, because I didn’t like the guy but he had to know there was a code that clearly stated that you didn’t grass your peers up to their parents.
‘It was an accident,’ I insisted. ‘Just a stupid accident. We were having an argument and—’
‘An argument?’ Kathy sounded like Lady Bracknell banging on about her handbag. She also seemed more aghast that her darling boy would get into an argument than push a defenceless girl off her bike. Though after five seconds in my company she’d probably realised that I was far from defenceless. I was entirely defence-y. ‘That doesn’t sound like you.’
‘I do have arguments with people,’ Michael said as he flushed with embarrassment. It was very entertaining to see him trying to pretend that he was controversial.
Despite the fact he had eyes that were the colour of black coffee and shaped like almonds (note to self: now that’s a cake waiting to be baked), he was the Lees’ blue-eyed boy. When Kathy hadn’t been grilling me about my life choices, her and Mr Lee (who’d told me to call him Shen) had asked Michael all about his classes and his homework and if he’d read an article in the
Guardian
about last year’s A-level results. He’d been reticent at first and kept shooting me these wary glances, but soon he realised that he had the advantage of being on his home ground and talked at length about current events like he was taking part in one of the school’s deathly dull debating societyassemblies. Snoozeville, but Michael’s parents actually listened to what he had to say, eyes fixed on his face as they smiled and nodded encouragingly.
Even
I could tell that she didn’t like me. People’s mothers never do and it wasn’t like I cared whether she liked me or not – I was never going to see her again – but when someone gives me attitude, I can’t help but see their attitude and raise it.
So, instead of being polite and simply answering herquestions with monosyllabic replies like any normal seventeenyear-old would, I got really, really defensive. When I wasn’t being all TMI.
‘My mum’s in Peru being touchy-feely with women prisoners. She’s trying to teach them how to meditate,’ I said. ‘And my dad’s moved to Spain to run a bar and get drunk every night for free. Believe me, I’m better off without them and their mid-life crises.’
I didn’t just stop there. Not when I could say, ‘Anyway, friends are the new family and Gustav and Harry who live in the flat next door come round once a month to force me to tidy up and eat some vegetables.’
‘I can’t really see the point of going to university,’ I also said. ‘I’m already my own lifestyle brand and I can just hire a business manager to take care of the number crunching. Anyway, what’s the point of getting a degree
and
tens of thousands of pounds’ worth of debt? Waste of time.’
I was being so objectionable and obnoxious and obstreperous and many other unflattering words that didn’t begin with an o that I wanted to put down my chopsticks and slap myself around the face. From the frigid expression on Michael’s mum’s (sorry,
Kathy’s
) face, I think she did too.
It wasn’t until we were having pudding – a very disappointing fruit salad with Greek yoghurt – that I finally stopped talking, but Kathy wasn’t done. ‘So, how did you sprain your ankle?’ she asked.
‘Well, I had an argument with my bike and the ground,’ I said quickly, but I wasn’t quick enough to get in there before Michael.
‘Itwas my fault,’ he said right over me. ‘I kinda threw Jeane off her bike.’
‘Michael! Why would you do something like that?’ Kathy demanded. ‘That’s not how you were raised.’
I shot Michael a reproachful look, because I didn’t like the guy but he had to know there was a code that clearly stated that you didn’t grass your peers up to their parents.
‘It was an accident,’ I insisted. ‘Just a stupid accident. We were having an argument and—’
‘An argument?’ Kathy sounded like Lady Bracknell banging on about her handbag. She also seemed more aghast that her darling boy would get into an argument than push a defenceless girl off her bike. Though after five seconds in my company she’d probably realised that I was far from defenceless. I was entirely defence-y. ‘That doesn’t sound like you.’
‘I do have arguments with people,’ Michael said as he flushed with embarrassment. It was very entertaining to see him trying to pretend that he was controversial.
Despite the fact he had eyes that were the colour of black coffee and shaped like almonds (note to self: now that’s a cake waiting to be baked), he was the Lees’ blue-eyed boy. When Kathy hadn’t been grilling me about my life choices, her and Mr Lee (who’d told me to call him Shen) had asked Michael all about his classes and his homework and if he’d read an article in the
Guardian
about last year’s A-level results. He’d been reticent at first and kept shooting me these wary glances, but soon he realised that he had the advantage of being on his home ground and talked at length about current events like he was taking part in one of the school’s deathly dull debating societyassemblies. Snoozeville, but Michael’s parents actually listened to what he had to say, eyes fixed on his face as they smiled and nodded encouragingly.
Even
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