Chapter Four- Who’s In Charge of the Game Now, Huh?
“You are never throwing another party again, young man!” my mom shouted at Jake.
Jake immediately grimaced. “I’m not young.”
“Fine. Go ahead and call yourself an old man,” I muttered under my breath. I instantly regretted that, because now, Mom’s glare (which is worse than a full-blast laser) was now focused on me. No to sarcastic comments, then.
Jake and I were sitting side by side on the couch. It was supposedly comfortable, but it didn’t really feel comfy now. All I knew was that today was the best day ever at school, and then this couch is very unnerving. Jake and I just arrived home to find out that Mom was finally home from her work for the exhibit when she made us sit down for some lecture.
She found out about her vases. For people who lived in the same roof with my mother, this was synonymous to the end of the world, which meant—
“No cell phones, no laptops, no TV, no iPod, no driving, no everything!”
—that.
“Mom!” Jake began to yell. “You can’t—”
“I didn’t do anything! Mom, I made him stop the party!” I reasoned out.
“But you shouldn’t have let him start it in the first place,” she told me sternly.
“I—what?” My expression must have been totally screwed up, because that was what I was feeling. “He told me that he’ll have a few friends over for his Science project. How was I supposed to know that he was bringing the whole country with him to see real Biology at work?”
Mom instantly reddened. “Real Biology at work!” she shouted in midair. “I cannot believe my children could even say—”
I sighed.
So much for the best day ever.
“This was all your fault,” I grumbled past Jake once Mom left for her studio—with our phones, and laptops, and everything.
Mom’s an artist. A really good one. But she’s also a mom who grounds her children for saying something like “real Biology at work.” I mean, I could’ve meant anything back then, but she immediately thought of it as a dirty thing. And though I really was referring to ‘dirty things,’ my point is, she immediately implied that I was talking about the reproductive system of the body.
In short, my mom probably has a dirty mind.
“You’re the one saying things like sex around.”
“When did I ever say that?”
“You—Well—Ugh! The point is, we could’ve totally escaped that four-hour-lecture if it wasn’t for you saying that!”
“It was barely a thirty-minute-lecture!” I shot back at him. “And you’re the one who threw the party, not me.”
YOU ARE READING
Unexpectedly
Humor‘He went out of the room. In his boxers. Again. Like the laws and principles of the universe, which were scientifically proven, I couldn’t help but scowl. He smirked. “Well, stop drooling all over me.” I wrinkled my nose. “Right. Good luck with you...
