I manage to leave out the fact that the fight started over Marissa.
"You should call her," she says when I finish.
I shake my head, as if she can see me. "Uh-uh."
"She was probably just having a bad day."
"Maybe."
We keep chatting. She's so easy to talk to. Somehow we end up on the subject of my parents. "How wild is it that your mom and dad have been married all this time?" she says, like it's a
Guinness Book of World Records
event. "I hardly know anyone whose parents are still together."
There's a question I'm dying to ask her, but it's so nosy. But she's my friend, and I finally decide it's okay to ask.
"Marissa? Um ... where's your dad?"
Silence.
"I mean, I know about your mom. But I was wondering what the deal is with your dad. Why you live with your grandma."
I breathe, waiting.
She says so low I almost can't hear her, "He's in jail."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Camera:
Latin for "room."
Shannon's parents are sitting in the living room when I arrive, interfering with my plans for a make-up make-out session.
My girl called
me
today. She said she was sorry! I didn't even have to grovel. She said she didn't know why she was so emotional last night.
So I begged Garrett to drive me over to Shannon's ASAP, but he flat-out refused. Dickwad. I can't wait till he needs a favor, so I can shut him down.
My dad took pity on me but made me wait till he was done with whatever unimportant thing he was in the middle of. Grrr. I'm craving my driver's license.
Now I'm rotting in Shannon's living room while her parents pretend they don't hate me.
They always put on a show of niceness, but I know they want me to go away so they won't have to worry about their daughter having sex.
We're not.
But we might, you know. If things were different. Okay, a lot different. We both know people our age who are having sex. I think parents like to believe that that's
not
happening, but sorry, olds, it is. I'm not clear who it helps if parents are in denial, but whatever.
Shannon's mom watches me like a hawk. When I catch her staring at me, she gives this pained smile, like she's got bad gas.
Mr. DeWinter is really old. Like fifty, I think. He's out of touch with life in general, but he does like football. In fact, when we first met, he thought I was Garrett. "So you're the halfback, eh?" When I had to admit that he was thinking of my brother, his expression soured and has never changed since.
"Have fun, honey," says Shannon's mom. "Take a sweater. You're going to freeze in that shirt."
No, she won't,
I think.
I'm going to have my hands all over her.
Shannon grabs a jean jacket. "Bye," she says to her parents, breezing out the door.
I try to smile reassuringly at Mrs. DeWinter, but I have a feeling my smile looks as pained as hers.
My dad is waiting in the car outside. He drops us off at the Meriwether Mall, where we walk around for a while, holding hands; then we go to a movie, pushing up the armrest between us so we can squish closer together.
I couldn't even tell you what the movie was about. I was in a state of Shan-toxication through the whole thing. My nads must've been the color of blueberries.
We go back to my house for some dessert before Shannon has to be home.
"Mom, we're going to have these cookies in my room," I say, heading for the stairs.
My parents are cool enough to allow us to be in my room alone, but they make a point of clomping past my door every so often. We can tell when my mom is going to make an appearance: the piano playing stops. With my dad, it's loud humming.
"Why don't you take that thing down?" asks Shannon, glaring at my poster of Rose Tyler, the girl from
Doctor Who.
"What? Why?"
"She's not that pretty."
On what planet?
I feel like asking. There's no way I'm taking my Rose off the wall. She's my good-luck charm. I fondle that poster every morning before I leave the room.
"She just wears a lot of makeup," says Shannon, wandering over to my desk. She picks up my model of Doctor Who's TARDIS (Time And
"You should call her," she says when I finish.
I shake my head, as if she can see me. "Uh-uh."
"She was probably just having a bad day."
"Maybe."
We keep chatting. She's so easy to talk to. Somehow we end up on the subject of my parents. "How wild is it that your mom and dad have been married all this time?" she says, like it's a
Guinness Book of World Records
event. "I hardly know anyone whose parents are still together."
There's a question I'm dying to ask her, but it's so nosy. But she's my friend, and I finally decide it's okay to ask.
"Marissa? Um ... where's your dad?"
Silence.
"I mean, I know about your mom. But I was wondering what the deal is with your dad. Why you live with your grandma."
I breathe, waiting.
She says so low I almost can't hear her, "He's in jail."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Camera:
Latin for "room."
Shannon's parents are sitting in the living room when I arrive, interfering with my plans for a make-up make-out session.
My girl called
me
today. She said she was sorry! I didn't even have to grovel. She said she didn't know why she was so emotional last night.
So I begged Garrett to drive me over to Shannon's ASAP, but he flat-out refused. Dickwad. I can't wait till he needs a favor, so I can shut him down.
My dad took pity on me but made me wait till he was done with whatever unimportant thing he was in the middle of. Grrr. I'm craving my driver's license.
Now I'm rotting in Shannon's living room while her parents pretend they don't hate me.
They always put on a show of niceness, but I know they want me to go away so they won't have to worry about their daughter having sex.
We're not.
But we might, you know. If things were different. Okay, a lot different. We both know people our age who are having sex. I think parents like to believe that that's
not
happening, but sorry, olds, it is. I'm not clear who it helps if parents are in denial, but whatever.
Shannon's mom watches me like a hawk. When I catch her staring at me, she gives this pained smile, like she's got bad gas.
Mr. DeWinter is really old. Like fifty, I think. He's out of touch with life in general, but he does like football. In fact, when we first met, he thought I was Garrett. "So you're the halfback, eh?" When I had to admit that he was thinking of my brother, his expression soured and has never changed since.
"Have fun, honey," says Shannon's mom. "Take a sweater. You're going to freeze in that shirt."
No, she won't,
I think.
I'm going to have my hands all over her.
Shannon grabs a jean jacket. "Bye," she says to her parents, breezing out the door.
I try to smile reassuringly at Mrs. DeWinter, but I have a feeling my smile looks as pained as hers.
My dad is waiting in the car outside. He drops us off at the Meriwether Mall, where we walk around for a while, holding hands; then we go to a movie, pushing up the armrest between us so we can squish closer together.
I couldn't even tell you what the movie was about. I was in a state of Shan-toxication through the whole thing. My nads must've been the color of blueberries.
We go back to my house for some dessert before Shannon has to be home.
"Mom, we're going to have these cookies in my room," I say, heading for the stairs.
My parents are cool enough to allow us to be in my room alone, but they make a point of clomping past my door every so often. We can tell when my mom is going to make an appearance: the piano playing stops. With my dad, it's loud humming.
"Why don't you take that thing down?" asks Shannon, glaring at my poster of Rose Tyler, the girl from
Doctor Who.
"What? Why?"
"She's not that pretty."
On what planet?
I feel like asking. There's no way I'm taking my Rose off the wall. She's my good-luck charm. I fondle that poster every morning before I leave the room.
"She just wears a lot of makeup," says Shannon, wandering over to my desk. She picks up my model of Doctor Who's TARDIS (Time And
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