The Quirky Tale of April Hale (Quirky Series #1)

7. The Problem of Being a Good Girl is Everyone Thinks You're Boring

In case you guys don’t understand the movie/book/internet references, I’ll be adding (1), (2) to each of the reference. Then you can scroll down to see what it’s about. 

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 7. The Problem of Being a Good Girl is Everyone Thinks You're Boring, Even Your Parents

There was something wrong with the way my brain communicated with my body. Was it the short term effect of being lost and mentally-exhausted for over five hours? Or was it the early signs of dementia? I wasn’t sure, but when I knocked on the front door, I felt like my whole world was spinning.

See, I wasn’t the kind of girl who’d go home late at night. In fact, my parents put so much faith on me on getting home right at the time that they didn’t give me the key to the house. They knew that I’d be home at four pronto, because I was too friendless to be invited to cafe bonding time, and I was too much of a scaredy-cat to go out on my own.

So that was why, when my twin brother opened the door for me, I was totally gobsmacked to see the utterly dramatic way my whole family welcomed me home.

“Welcome home, April,” my father said in what was supposed to be an ominous tone.

My family had moved the big sofa from in front of the TV to near the front door. My father and my mother were sitting on it, both took poses which were akin to  villains waiting for the protagonist to find their secret hideout. There was a slit on my mother long hobo skirt that showed off the cellulites on her thigh, and my father was holding the cork-opener to open alcoholic bottles James Bond style. After Quentin opened the door for me, he resumed to his position, which was in the middle of my parents, his legs spread wide and his elbows positioned on either knees. And then he rested his chin on his joined hands and looked at me from under his lashes.

“We are glad to receive your presence,” Quentin said in a deeper voice he normally didn’t posses.

To be totally honest, their demeanor were scaring me the pants out of me. I just hoped that they weren’t just being brainwashed in a modus operandi like Stepford Wifves(1).

“Congratulations!” my mother suddenly produced another bottle of wine from behind her back. “Our little girl has finally grown up!”

“She gets home at nine o’clock!” I had a sad suspicion that the shiny parts on my father’s eyes were tears of joy. 

“Thanks to me and my brilliant plan!” Quentin looked even more excited than before.

“It’s like the cliches on 90s teen flick! The innocent girl ’s going out with her brother’s best friend. How very appropriate for our little April,” my mother was also tearing up. “Ah, if only you were the older one, Quentin, it’ll be perfect.”

“But are you absolutely sure that your friend Andrew is the right guy for her? He’s not going to try anything funny to her, right?” Dad asked Quentin.

“Believe me, Dad. I followed your advice. Andrew’s the dumbest and the kindest amongst my friends. He’s also quite a looker and has good genes, Mom, so your grandchildren would be cute.”

“Wait-wait,” I closed the door because I didn’t want my neighbors to get a chance to hear our weird family confabulation. “What are you guys talking about?”

“The growth of our dearest child, of course!” Mom’s voice reached a shrill, which always happened when she was happy. Hey, my uncommon antics had to be hereditary at some points, and right now I was thinking that my mom was responsible for at least half of it.

“I thought that you’d grow up to be some kind of a cat lady,” Dad smiled at me apologetically. “It’s just… you’re never going out, April. You don’t rebel, you don’t beg us to give you permissions to get tattooed or pierced or to get a boyfriend. I’ve never seen you talking with a friend before! Even with your condition-”