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03. spenc

And the Oscar for worst lead actor in an every day roll," my mom had a habit of waking me up in the weirdest ways "SPENCER LAZYASS who should've gone to bed when I told him to."

"I did." I pulled the covers over my head protecting myself for any more brutal wake up assaults.

"Oh well I'm leaving in 10 minutes, and school starts in 25 so if you want a ride there your ass better be in the car in 8." Once she left, I thought about the quickest way to make sure that I was in the car on time.

With some motivation, I got up and looked for a clean shirt and pants to put on in the messy abyss I call my room. I rummaged through my drawers filled with sketchbooks and lighters instead of clothes until I found the Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti t-shirt Linda made me for Christmas and settled on yesterday's pants. Before walking out, I tied my pastel pink hair in a bun, grabbed last year's back pack, and my viceroy windbreaker and ran outside with just 3 minutes to spare.

"Glad you could make it," my mom said. She handed me my coffee mug thinking she knew me well only to find out it's filled with hot chocolate.

"What? Can't trust your son to get ready in time." I sat next to her in our burgundy Nissan Altima, looking through the CDs I made in the glove compartment for a perfect mix.

"No, I just can't trust him to be home by curfew, and to not be smelling like a goddamn weed farm." The intro to "Born to be Wild" by Steppenwolf interrupted her following lecture.

"Come on it was a one time thing."

"That's what you always say but you're turning 18 in a few days and I can't risk you doing shit that will get you in big trouble, and end up on your record." She paused. "Sometimes you really need to grow up and consider everyone else other than you."

"I'm sorry."

"You know I'm sorry doesn't cut it, I would ground you but you always find your way out of things." She protested. I really was sorry, about everything. She had me at the tender age of 17 with my 21 year old dad, who then left her at the hospital the day I was born. I kinda deprived her of her life. Well I did period.

She works as an art curator for this museum in Meat Packing District. It pays well, but that meant that I was raised by my grandma and grandpa up in SoHo so she could finish her shit in high school and college.

"I mean it! I'll cut you some slack."

"Some is not enough." She announced. "Seriously Spencer I just don't want you getting into any shit that won't help anyone. And it's not me being a bitch because I do care. I care a lot."