One of the Boys

Chapter 18

I've been lying in my room for two days; just staring at the ceiling, bed surrounded by tissues. God I can't believe I've turned into one of those girls but I don't know what to do.

"I'm not sure what's wrong with her." I hear my dad saying into the phone. He's probably talking to my brother. "Is it PMS or something? Is this what PMS is like?"

I can practically imagine my brother yelling, "How the hell would I know!?" on the other side of the phone, but I'm feeling too undeserving to laugh.

"You're right. You're right. She's probably had her period for years now, and if I haven't seen this before it probably isn't PMS." I grab my pillow from under me and put it on top of my head. What I would do for a mother right now. It's the first time I've ever thought something like that.

"No. I don't think it's a boy," my dad is saying. Clearly the pillow is not doing its job of drowning out the noise. "I'm pretty sure I'd know if she had a boyfriend, and yesterday she yelled that that Jordan guy wasn't real or something, so it's clearly not about him." My real boyfriend only lasted one night I think to myself. "Okay sure."

My dad knocks on my bedroom door.

"Leave me alone dad. I'm having issues you wouldn't be able to contemplate."

"Oh come on Al. I can handle anything. And even if I can't, your brother's on the phone and he wants to speak to you."

"Tell Jake my life is none of his beeswax!" I yell.

"She said, and I quote, my life is none of his beeswax." The pillow goes over my head again. "Okay. Thanks Jake. Have a good day now. Stay safe." My dad hangs up the phone, leaving me some nice peace and quiet to wallow in again.

How does one date a boy she really likes and then kiss his best friend and come out of it all alright? How does one do something that stupid in the first place? These are the questions I've been asking myself for the last two days, and I've come up with the conclusion that I must be a mentally retarded idiot. I have the urge to call Lindsey and get her to solve my boy issues as usual, but then I remember I somehow managed to ruin my friendship with her too, because apparently I stole her boyfriend. It all sounds like petty and trivial teen drama, but it's surprising how much this actually hurts.

It's a few hours later when I'm broken out of my self-pity reverie again. Six pm on the dot, just like the night before. "Al! Do you want any dinner? I got lasagne from that new Italian place 'round the corner! I know you've been wanting to try some of their 'mountains of carbs' as you call it."

I do. I really really do. "Bring it up to my room!" I finally yell.

I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and immediately prop my pillows up. I may as well have 15 minutes of happiness with my lasagne before contemplating my sad new life into my pillow again. The door creaks open.

"Just leave it on my desk." I say, not wanting my dad to see my tear stained face.

"I'm not your slave, Ally cat," a distinctly female voice says, none other than Trina popping her head through the door.

"What are you doing here?" I say grumpily.

"Your dad asked me."

"My dad has your number?"

"No. We bumped into each other at the post office and as soon as I found out where you'd been for the last two days I thought I'd come over and cheer you up."

"What could you do? You're one of Lindsey's cronies anyway, aren't you? And in case you haven't heard, we're not exactly friends anymore."

Trina rolls her eyes. "Cronies? Please. I know how much of a bitch Lindsey can be. She stirred up drama with my boyfriend too, remember?"