Fitting In

Chapter 6 - The Parental Unit

My parents were two things. One they were busy. They both had really well paying jobs, but those jobs took up most of their time. I was used to it by now, and I honestly preferred it this way. They would go off and do their thing, and I would go off and do mine. My parents never really bugged me about my grades or anything else. They knew I was responsible enough to get what I needed to done. 

The other thing was paranoid.

There weren’t many rules in our household. We never needed them. There were only three. 

One - Be Kind (my mom was a sucker for kindness)

Two - Don’t Talk Back

Three - Let Them Know Where You Are At All Times

These rules may not seem super important, but one thing about being the good kid is that the leash gets tighter. If a kid regularly gets in trouble at school, is always late, and is disrespectful, then being thirty minutes late is nothing.

But, I’m not one of those kids. 

My parents must be freaking out. They are literally going to kill me. I can already hear the lecture in my head. 

“You could have been kidnapped!”

“Where were you? Off with a boy? Drinking? Doing Drugs?”

“What’s the point of your phone if you're not going to use it to contact us?”

I just hoped that whatever punishment they would dish out wouldn’t be too awful. Bracing myself as I walked back to my car, I dialed my moms number. 

“Hey, mom,” I weakly stated. I could already tell this wasn’t going to be good. 

“Where are you?”

“Um, at the field?”

“Is that an answer or a question?”

“Mom, practice went a little late, and…”

“I already called your coach. Where are you?”

Oh my gosh. This was really bad. This is what happens when you're never late.

“I’m still at the field. I was just about to leave.”

“Why are you still at the field?”

She really wasn’t going to let this go, was she? “Mom. After practice me and some of the other players stayed to play World Cup.”

“What others?”

What was this? A criminal interrogation? 

“Just some others.”

“Boys, right?”

“Well, yeah. It’s a Co-Ed team.”

“Why didn’t you text me? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be late? I was worried sick.”

“I just forgot.”

“Are you on drugs?”

“What?”

“I have to ask. It’s my job as a parent.”

“No mom, I just played a game. I have to go now. I’m about to get on the highway.”

“We’ll talk more about this when you get home.”

“Fine, bye.”

“Don’t get snippy with me.” 

I hung up. 

Our “talk” later was just her yelling at me about how irresponsible I was. I get it. I guess I’m not allowed to make mistakes. I totally did this just to worry her. It also has everything to do with me changing my style.

“I just don’t know who you are anymore.”

I wanted to scream back, but I held my tounge. Talking back would only make everything worse. The only thing I could do was ride it out. 

I wanted to say that she never really knew me. 

I wanted to say that one mistake shouldn’t define me.

I wanted to say a lot of things, but that didn’t matter. It never would. 

She had called dad, so I got the father version over the phone. I did my homework with my cell on speaker, and I agreed and responded when I was supposed to. 

They both agreed that my bedtime should be moved up to eight, and that if my grades started slipping my phone would get taken away. I wanted to ask what my grades had to do with me forgetting to text them, but of course I didn’t. 

It’s times like these that I wish I had siblings. I just want someone to rant to. Someone else to share the burden. 

I decided to instead distract myself with Tyler. Macey was a genius and had convinced some poor dude to give her Tylers locker number and combination. Now all I had to do was find an excuse to get into the hallway, and make a plan. The games had begun. 

Everything online seemed too nice. Too childish. Filling the locker with balloons was for birthdays not revenge. Anything that wasn’t super harmful was on the other side of the spectrum. I didn’t want to kill him, and it wouldn't be as satisfactory if I was stuck in jail. 

I knew that I would have a limited number of time, and I also knew that I needed something that wouldn’t get me kicked out of school. 

I started going through some of my old things. I brainstormed. Then I came across an old picture. 

It was one from back before dad got his current job. Back before he started staying in an apartment on weekdays. I had me and my cousin smiling as my dad pretended to be afraid of her snake. Perfect. 

I called her up; knowing that although the snake from the photo had passed, she had gotten three more. 

“Hey Daph?”

“T, what’s up?”

“Well…” I explained the whole situation to her. “Do you think I could use one of your snakes?”

“Not one of mine, but I do have one that I was planning to let go in a few days. I think it’s healed enough to let go a few days early”

“Perfect.”