Saving Phoebe Murrow: A Novel by Herta Feely

her face. “Even now I’m not sure that you’re telling us the whole truth. You really had no idea they were going to smoke pot?” she asked.
    â€œNo,” Phoebe said, though this time her “no” sounded less than convincing.
    â€œNo?” Isabel glared at her. “You lied to me and you intentionally misled me, Phoebe.” She ignored Ron’s beseeching look to ease up and went on. “Tell me how I’m supposed to trust you after this? How will I know if you’re telling the truth?”
    Phoebe began to cry.
    Though Isabel had a moment when she wished desperately that punishment wasn’t necessary, in the end, not only did she tell Phoebe she was grounded for several weeks, but also that she was absolutely not allowed to hang around with Jessie and Emma. They were clearly a bad influence.
    â€œWeeks? How many?”
    â€œFour,” Isabel said.
    At this, Phoebe burst into loud sobs, accused her mother of hating her and ruining her life, and ran out of the room and up two flights of stairs. The loud crash of her bedroom door punctuated the evening’s discussion and sent a resounding shudder through the house that awakened Jackson.
    â€œWhat’s going on, Mom?” he asked sleepily.
    Isabel ran her hand through his tousled hair. “Nothing, honey. Why don’t you go brush your teeth and get in bed. Daddy’ll tuck you in.” Avoiding Ron’s frustrated and angry stare, she tried to smile reassuringly at her son.

Chapter Eleven
Saturday, September 27, 2008
    The next morning the Winthrop-Murrow house contained an aura of discontent. Everyone but Jackson seemed grumpy and out of sorts.
    Following in the footsteps of her father, Isabel got Phoebe up early – though did nine o’clock really qualify as early? No, when Isabel had had “a lapse in judgment,” as her mother called it, being woken by her father at seven on a Saturday was de rigueur .
    Isabel had breakfast waiting for her daughter and hoped that the two of them could spend a little time further discussing the previous day’s events. She hoped to explain to Phoebe that she wanted the best for her, something her father had never bothered with. She wanted her to know that teenagers were notorious for being incapable of seeing the consequences of their actions, which is why so many teens drove recklessly and sometimes were killed. They placed loyalty to their peers above telling their parents the truth. So now, did Phoebe understand that simply going along with her friends wasn’t always the right thing to do? And not telling your parents the truth only compounded the problem?
    â€œOh, is that so?” Phoebe said after Isabel had finished her little speech. She picked at a piece of cantaloupe on her plate.
    Her daughter’s answer rattled her. She didn’t recall being that sardonic with her father. No, she hadn’t dared. We’re too easy on these kids, she thought.
    â€œIt wasn’t Jessie and Emma’s fault, so I don’t get why you don’t want me to see them?”
    â€œBecause they used even poorer judgment than you. Smoking marijuana is illegal, in case you’ve forgotten.”
    Isabel suddenly recalled her own mother saying that examining someone’s parents told you reams about the child. If Jessie was a reflection of her permissive mother, nothing more needed to be said. She had to get Phoebe away from her.
    â€œI just don’t think Jessie’s a good influence,” Isabel said. “I don’t want you hanging around with girls like that.”
    Phoebe stared at her a long moment, before saying, “Would Jessie’s mom tell her not to see me? No way, Mom! No way! You are so weird. Do you get that?” Phoebe shoved the plate of food away and ran up the stairs.
    Isabel didn’t have the heart or energy to follow her. Nor did she know how to keep Phoebe from actually continuing her friendship with