Misfit Theater Company (Wattys Winner 2018)

31. Foul is Fair and Fair is Foul

The past two weeks have been the worst of my life. Thatcher, Patti, and Moth tried their best to keep me included, but between my grounding, my mom taking my phone, and my new stupid sewing class, I'm essentially cut off from them. My separation from the misfits was finally as official as it could have possibly been when I forgot to put my phone on silent before dinner and it went off.

"Who was that?" Mom asked between chews.

"Thatcher," I mumbled. She would have known I was lying to her and punished me more if I had. She held out her hand to take my phone, so I turned it off and gave it up. I'm hoping that goodwill will grant me my phone back sooner, but that was Friday and it's Monday now. Still no phone.

Patti has been trying to fill me in on their progress with the play at lunch--because, as she says, she's still waiting for me to come back--, and Thatcher and I catch up on our walks home; but there's distance there now. He wants to talk about what's going on in theater and about his excitement for Grant O'Reilly to come, and I have nothing to talk about. Literally nothing. Nothing is going on in my life, all the fun and excitement has been drained from my days. All I do is sleep anymore.

And when Thatcher and I fall into our silent moments, my thoughts start to spiral, only making me quieter.

What do he and I even have in common if we can't hold down a conversation?

Should we even be together?

What's the point of being a couple if we only see each other to walk home?

Sometimes I'm able to calm myself down and think that maybe we will get back to normal after all the stress from performing for Grant O'Reilly subsides or after my mom finally calms down and realizes I did nothing wrong. But I've never had a blueprint for healthy relationships, so every day it becomes harder and harder to believe everything is okay.

It became especially difficult last Tuesday, when Patti started hosting her "Let's Get Serious" rehearsals at her house after school and Moth started giving Thatcher rides. That's why Thatcher ended up texting me while I was eating dinner: He wanted to let me know that he missed me. I didn't get a chance to reply that I missed him too before my phone was gone.

On Thursday, I decided to try my best to make amends with my mom in the hopes that she would let me hang out with Thatcher and the misfits over the weekend, but it was no use.

"Hey Mom," I said in a gentle tone after dinner that night. She was on the couch reading a book, but she placed her finger in the page and turned to face me.

"Yes?" She knew I wanted something.

I rounded the couch to take a seat on the cushion beside her. "I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry about what happened with Thatcher. You were right: I should have texted you to let you know that the dance was over and I was going to be hanging out with Thatcher. If I had done that, you would have probably even let us come here to hang out a bit."

She winced as if to disagree.

I continued, "Well, anyway, I'm sorry. I will never ever go behind your back like that or lie to you again."

She examines my face for a moment before nodding her head in approval. "I accept your apology. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mom. Because, well... next week is the week Grant O'Reilly is supposed to be at the school to watch the plays, and I was thinking that--"

She cut me off. "--The answer is no."

"But Mom, I like theater. I did better in my classes when I was in theater, I promise. Remember how much Thatcher helped me?"