do my homework. Which was impossible with her annoying music blasting through the cardboard wall. Her music was so loud that it sounded like she’d come into my room and cranked my stereo instead. Focusing on my Spanish essay was impossible. So I went into the living room. Mother was still lost in her own world on the couch.
“Could you turn that down?” I yelled over the music. “Some of us are trying to do homework.”
Mother ignored me.
“You have to turn it down!” I yelled louder.
She glared at me. A scary, hateful glare. Like I was the enemy. Which mother had already made clear. I’d heard the diatribe a thousand times. If it wasn’t for me, mother would be happy andmarried and wouldn’t have to work at a job she hates. I’ve ruined her life by existing.
She didn’t move from the couch. I stomped over to the stereo and poked the OFF button.
“You have to let me concentrate,” I said. “A person should be allowed to do her homework.” I was the first person in the history of public education begging to do homework on a Sunday night.
There hasn’t been any drama tonight. Even more perplexing is mother’s anomalous good mood. We’re actually sitting here having dinner without her verbal vomit contaminating everything.
“Eat your carrots,” she says. Why is she trying to bust out the Normal Mom Act when no one else is here?
“Carrot cubes are not real carrots,” I object.
“Sure they are.”
“They don’t even taste like carrots. And I’m pretty sure carrots don’t come in neon orange. These might be radioactive.” I don’t think mother knows how to prepare a vegetable that doesn’t come from a can. She even manages to mess those up.
“Eat them anyway,” she says like we’re sharing an inside joke.
Beyond irritating.
I swear, when she gets fake like this, it’s even more annoying than her usual stank mood. At least then I know she’s for real.
thirteen
tuesday, may 3
(33 days left)
Matt’s already waiting for me when I get to our place.
“You look different,” he says.
Is he seriously just noticing my hair now? I mean, we haven’t hooked up since last week, but still. He sees me in the halls. He’s had plenty of chances to notice.
“Don’t remind me,” I grumble.
“No, you look good. But … what’s different?”
Wait. He doesn’t even know it’s my hair? Does he not see that half of it was chopped off and it’s all pinned back?
“You can’t tell?” I ask.
Matt pulls me close to him. “I can tell you’re pretty,” he whispers. Then he kisses me.
I let myself be kissed. Pretty soon I forget that there’s anything to be mad about.
“Oh my god, it’s
true
?” a girl’s voice yells from behind the wall.
A girl’s voice I recognize.
Because she used to be my best friend.
Audrey stomps over to us. She has crazy eyes. “Carly told me you guys came out here, but I had to see for myself.”
“We’re not—this isn’t how it looks,” Matt protests.
“Oh, no? Then why does it look like my boyfriend was just kissing a dirty skank?”
I gape at Matt. He’s Audrey’s
boyfriend
? How can he be her boyfriend when he’s
my
boyfriend?
Matt’s not explaining that this is all a joke. Or that Audrey is lying. He’s not even looking at me.
“How many times have you guys come out here?” Audrey wants to know.
“It’s not a big deal,” Matt says. “She’s not even—”
“How
many
?!”
“I don’t know.”
“More than twice?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Asshole!”
“Audrey, come on.” Matt touches Audrey’s arm. It’s like I’m not even here. All Matt cares about is convincing Audrey that I’m nothing.
“Don’t
touch
me!”
“I—”
“Get off me!” Audrey shakes Matt off. She gives me such a nasty look that I can’t believe we were ever best friends.
“First Corey, and now this?” she accuses me.
Is she really bringing up those Valentine’s Day chocolates Corey Smith gave her in eighth grade?
“I wasn’t
“Could you turn that down?” I yelled over the music. “Some of us are trying to do homework.”
Mother ignored me.
“You have to turn it down!” I yelled louder.
She glared at me. A scary, hateful glare. Like I was the enemy. Which mother had already made clear. I’d heard the diatribe a thousand times. If it wasn’t for me, mother would be happy andmarried and wouldn’t have to work at a job she hates. I’ve ruined her life by existing.
She didn’t move from the couch. I stomped over to the stereo and poked the OFF button.
“You have to let me concentrate,” I said. “A person should be allowed to do her homework.” I was the first person in the history of public education begging to do homework on a Sunday night.
There hasn’t been any drama tonight. Even more perplexing is mother’s anomalous good mood. We’re actually sitting here having dinner without her verbal vomit contaminating everything.
“Eat your carrots,” she says. Why is she trying to bust out the Normal Mom Act when no one else is here?
“Carrot cubes are not real carrots,” I object.
“Sure they are.”
“They don’t even taste like carrots. And I’m pretty sure carrots don’t come in neon orange. These might be radioactive.” I don’t think mother knows how to prepare a vegetable that doesn’t come from a can. She even manages to mess those up.
“Eat them anyway,” she says like we’re sharing an inside joke.
Beyond irritating.
I swear, when she gets fake like this, it’s even more annoying than her usual stank mood. At least then I know she’s for real.
thirteen
tuesday, may 3
(33 days left)
Matt’s already waiting for me when I get to our place.
“You look different,” he says.
Is he seriously just noticing my hair now? I mean, we haven’t hooked up since last week, but still. He sees me in the halls. He’s had plenty of chances to notice.
“Don’t remind me,” I grumble.
“No, you look good. But … what’s different?”
Wait. He doesn’t even know it’s my hair? Does he not see that half of it was chopped off and it’s all pinned back?
“You can’t tell?” I ask.
Matt pulls me close to him. “I can tell you’re pretty,” he whispers. Then he kisses me.
I let myself be kissed. Pretty soon I forget that there’s anything to be mad about.
“Oh my god, it’s
true
?” a girl’s voice yells from behind the wall.
A girl’s voice I recognize.
Because she used to be my best friend.
Audrey stomps over to us. She has crazy eyes. “Carly told me you guys came out here, but I had to see for myself.”
“We’re not—this isn’t how it looks,” Matt protests.
“Oh, no? Then why does it look like my boyfriend was just kissing a dirty skank?”
I gape at Matt. He’s Audrey’s
boyfriend
? How can he be her boyfriend when he’s
my
boyfriend?
Matt’s not explaining that this is all a joke. Or that Audrey is lying. He’s not even looking at me.
“How many times have you guys come out here?” Audrey wants to know.
“It’s not a big deal,” Matt says. “She’s not even—”
“How
many
?!”
“I don’t know.”
“More than twice?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Asshole!”
“Audrey, come on.” Matt touches Audrey’s arm. It’s like I’m not even here. All Matt cares about is convincing Audrey that I’m nothing.
“Don’t
touch
me!”
“I—”
“Get off me!” Audrey shakes Matt off. She gives me such a nasty look that I can’t believe we were ever best friends.
“First Corey, and now this?” she accuses me.
Is she really bringing up those Valentine’s Day chocolates Corey Smith gave her in eighth grade?
“I wasn’t
Similar Books
