Teach Me How to Be Bad

Chapter 2

"Mom, I'm home!" I yell as I walk through the front door.

"Hi sweetie," my mom replies while walking into the living room,"How was your day?"

"Not too bad, but not great either" I say nonchalantly. I start to walk up the stairs when my mom stops me by saying,"You remember Mike and Lori, right? Well they invited us over for dinner not this Saturday but next, and I want you to come with us."

"Sure Mom, I have no plans." With that I walk up the last couple of stairs and head straight for my room.

I throw my backpack in the corner and plop down on my queen sized bed.

I savored every moment I could curl up under my black comforter and hide from the troubles of the world.

I scoot up to my pillows and look around my room. I had recently put up a bunch of band posters to cover the awful purple color of my walls. My mom insisted I have a proper and clean girly girl room. Let's just say I'm not a fan of that look.

The Killers, The Goo Goo Dolls, and Arctic Monkeys are most prominent on my collage wall.

I have always loved alternative and slightly older music. In my opinion, the 90s are the decade with the best music, but most people like that cheesy pop music they overplay on the radio.

I reach over and snatch my laptop off my night stand and log into Wattpad. I don't know if I'm the only one who secretly reads teen fiction books like my life depends on it, but if I am, then oh well.

I am in the middle of a book about a girl who decides she can't take living in her prison of a house anymore. She is the daughter of the town mayor and is expected to be miss perfect.

Ring a bell?

Anyways, she decides to run away and try living on her own for a while. She gets a tattoo, dyes her hair and does a whole bunch of other cool stuff that I could only dream of doing.

Must be nice to be free and do whatever you want.

I sit and read for about an hour when my stomach releases an unattractive gurgling noise.

I walk downstairs to the kitchen and head directly towards the fridge. Surprise, there is nothing to eat. There never is.

I turn around and find a note on the counter that reads:

Dear Jane,
Your father and I had to go to an emergency meeting with our boss. I left you 50 dollars to get whatever you want for dinner. We won't be home until late, so I'll see you tomorrow. Love you.

Wow, big shocker. Note the sarcasm.

I was used to this though. My parents were managers in some huge company that manufactures parts and pieces for countless products.

I know my parents love me and all, but they really are never there for me. They work crazy hours and will leave at the drop of a dime for weeks if they have to. I understand though, I mean they do keep a roof over my head, which I am thankful for. But in all honesty, I rather have parents that work normal hours, and have less money. I don't know why their paychecks matter so much to them when they never have time to enjoy anything with the money.

I sigh and pull out my phone to call for Chinese food. There is nothing like sweet and sour chicken to warm the soul.

I call and it takes a while because I can barely understand the guy. Now I have no problem with people who can't speak English properly, but when I'm trying to order food, it can be very frustrating.

After about 30 minutes I hear a knock on the door. I grab 30 dollars and pay for the food, giving the driver the change as a tip. Then I head to the table to munch on my brown rice and sweet and sour heaven.