Lessons from a Rude Boy

Underage Drinking = No Bueno

“What’s up with you?” Izzy nudged me with her shoulder as I stared at the wall.

“Nothing,” I said immediately, looking away from the brown speck I had been inspecting to smile reassuringly.

“And I am supposed to believe that?” she asked, I sighed leaving my bed to pick at the brown spot. How had that gotten there? “What are you doing?”

“There is something on this wall,” I answered, but then I was lying because the spot was gone, now smudge against my thumb.

“Okay now I know something is up,” she sighed, following as I entered my bathroom to wash the spot away.

“Nothing is up,” I tried to convince her, but the girl would just not let it go. She’d been pestering me all day, accusing me of being sullen. So what if I had not talked during our only class together. Did it matter that when lunch rolled around I had eaten my sandwich in the library? It’s not like I was moping.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since we saw Mason’s car drive past school this morning,” I scoffed, scrubbing at the spot.

“So not true,” I lied. Okay, maybe I was moping, but between the weirdness of last night, the fact that my goodnight text had gone unanswered, and then Mason’s obvious ditching of school without me, I had reason. Right?

“You can’t lie to me,” she touched my shoulder, stilling my scrubbing fingers. “What is going on with you guys?”

“Nothing,” she arched an eyebrow at me. “Okay fine,” I pouted, turning away from her. “We kissed,” she gasped, “a few times,” I held up my hand to stop her from asking questions so I could finish. “I skipped school with him,” her jaw dropped, “and then last night he came over so I could make dinner after swim practice and something happened between him and my mother,” her cheeks reddened. “He left early and now he won’t return my text messages,” ew, sound like a sullen love sick teen much Addison?

“First off,” her jaw widened, “I cannot believe you skipped school!” her hand swatted at me. “You wouldn’t even skip with me the day they had that huge art exhibit you wanted to see.”

“I was forced,” I smiled.

“Sure,” she glared. “Secondly, I totally knew it!” her squeal of delight was paired with jumping and turning me in circles.

“Stop,” I begged, “you’re making me sick.”

“Shut up,” she glowered. “Lastly what happened?”

            “I already told you that I don’t know,” I sighed, leaving her behind.

            “I don’t mean last night,” she grumped, pushing her way to my bed. “I mean on your little skip day.”

            “Oh,” it was hard not to smile as I recanted the day.

            “Cute!” she squealed again, rolling over me across the bed.

            “Yea,” I grumbled, “but what does it mean? I don’t understand this whole boy girl dynamic thing. I thought he liked me, but now,” I trailed off, her big eyes watching me.

            “He does like you,” she argued.

            “My phone says differently,” I held up the evidence of my perusal and his obvious refusal.

            “Maybe he is busy,” she hedged.

            “Busy doing what?” I scoffed, turning to glare up at the ceiling. “I hate this,” I mumbled. “I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t understand what the heck is going on and now I’m acting like some cliché love sick teenager,” she grinned. “It’s like I’m in some sort of stupid teen flick and I can’t get out.”