The rest of the week I hold my breath every time I walk past my mom, waiting for her to pull me aside to "talk". Wednesday goes by. Then Thursday. Then Friday. Still nothing.
Saturday morning, I wake up, take a shower, and then spend about an hour on homework. I'm in the middle of my pre-calculous worksheet when she calls.
My head snaps up in anticipation. Is this it? Are we finally gonna "talk"?
I bolt down the stairs to find her lounging on the couch and flipping through channels on the TV.
"Yes?" I ask, cautiously making my way to the reclining chair diagonal to her.
She looks up at me and then back at the television, feigning casualness.
"So, are you going tonight? I have to sign the permission form for you to go on the bus you know," She says. Going where?
"Going where?" My mouth mimics my thoughts through my current state of confusion.
She pauses the TV to look at me, her face scrunching up the way it does when she thinks I said something dumb. I see that look a lot.
"Uh, to youth? Their going ice skating tonight . . . you've been going to church while I was gone right?" Oops.
"Uh...kind of?" I say. I really haven't. I mean I've been going to church most Sundays, but the youth group just seemed a little much. I like my Saturday nights.
Her face un-scrunches. And then turns serious.
"Well, can't change the past. But you're going tonight. And I expect you to be ready to go to church bright and early tomorrow morning. Is that clear?" She asks. Aaaaaand, she's back. I knew the mom who cast aside homework and a good night's sleep and in their place put junk food and Netflix would only last so long. Talk about true colors.
"Oh-kay," I say. I get up when she presses play again and head back to my room. Not the conversation I was expecting.
Halfway up the stairs, I hear her call out, "be ready 6:30 sharp".
_____
It's 6:29 when I check myself in the mirror for the last time. I'm not wearing anything fancy, just some dark gray sweatpants that has a thick, black elastic waist and a black adidas jacket with red stripes along the arms.
I had asked Lauren to come with me, but she had plans, like all normal teenagers on a Saturday night.
At exactly 6:30 my mom screams, "Devyn! Let's go!" I can't help but smile. I've missed the annoyance of a mother.
When I get down the stairs I find her at the door, dressed like she's about to go ice skating. Uh....
"Mom? I thought you said this was a youth event?" She smiles at me for not making a point of how she's "too old" for youth.
"It is. The youth rented out the left rank and the young adults rented out the right one." She's still technically too old for young adults as well but no one ever calls her out on it. Maybe once she hits 40.
"Wait, you guys rented the whole arena?" I ask. She only flashes her goofy grin as she walked out the door. Okay then.
The drive is silent except for the low hum of the tires rolling against asphalt and ever-present noise of the AC blowing. Before she got out of the car she handed me a twenty saying it was for me and my friends to buy snacks. I was tempted to yell, "WHAT FRIENDS?" but that wouldn't get me anywhere now would it? It also wouldn't technically be true anyway. I had some "friends" in the youth group. Kind of. More like friendly acquaintances. Yeah, that's better.
YOU ARE READING
Muse
Teen FictionWe're both out of breath by the time the song ends. This is it, this is the one. He looks up at me and smiles, I return it ten times over. "You know, this song reminds me of you," He says. My brow furrows in confusion. "How?" I ask. He walks towar...
