Into My Own

Seventeen

Two days running on very little sleep didn't do a person much good.

By the time I walked through the door Monday night, I wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and not wake up until the week was over.

Once in the kitchen I was ready to charge on up to my room until I noticed the stacks of dirty dishes scattered everywhere.

Either my brothers had just gotten home or mom didn't feel like cleaning.

I knew that dad would be pissed to come home to such a huge mess so I reluctantly made my way to the heart of the mess instead of my bed.

It took a solid half an hour just to unload and reload the dishwasher. On top of that there was a sink full of pans that needed scrubbed and a batch of half finished cookie dough sitting in the mixer.

I was just popping the last tray of cookies in the oven when mom entered the now spotless room. She was clutching the phone in one hand, her knuckles as white and tense as her lips.

"Uh, hi mom."

She gave me a death stare instead of a greeting.

I turned around and set the timer, expecting her to stalk out of the room, but no such luck.

We held a stare down for what seemed like an eternity until I finally gave up.

"What?"

That set her off.

"What do you mean, what? You're just gonna stand there and act all innocent, just like you have for the past week?"

My eyes widened and I took a step back.

"Now I know why parents can't put any trust in their teenagers."

"Do you wanna tell me what you're talking about so we can discuss it like adults?" I asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"You aren't a damn adult! You're a lying teenager who thinks she can get away with things!"

"I didn't say I was an adult. I said we could talk like adults."

"No, we are going to talk like a mother yelling at her teenage daughter for lying to her face!" She shouted. "And I want to talk to your brother too! He was obviously in on this--this...plan!"

"I'll find him." I stalked out of the kitchen, completely bewildered as to why I was getting chewed out. It obviously had something to do with our camping trip since that was the last thing Charlie and I had done together.

I found my brother in the garage underneath his pickup.

"Charlie," I tapped his leg with my boot.

"Hang on. I'm in the middle of wiring something." His voice was muffled.

He slid out from underneath the rig, covered in grease. Surprise and a small amount of fear passed over his features as he took in my tense stance.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Mom wants to talk to us."