"Andrea?" My mom yelled my name from the bottom of the stairs.
"I'm in my room," I called back.
She pushed open the door to my bedroom, only to find that it was being blocked by a huge pile of clothes. Giving it another solid nudge, she stumbled in. "My god, what a mess..." she muttered, peering around the room.
"Yeah," I agreed, looking around at it myself. Clothes and shoes were scattered on the floor, the bed; everywhere. I had torn my entire room apart looking for my favorite t-shirt only to find that it was downstairs on the dryer. "I'll clean it before I leave," I added.
I turned back to face the bed and debated between the two pairs of pants lying on the comforter. I was torn between my loose green khakis or the pair of blue jeans that had been scribbled all over in permanent marker with my favorite lyrics, band names, and movie titles. In the end I decided on the blue jeans.
"I've been home since 3; were you up here all this time?" my mother asked, taking a seat on the bed.
"No... I, uh," I cleared my throat. "I stayed after. You know, for math. Just can't get enough of that geometry," I muttered.
My mom raised an eyebrow at me. I turned away from her suspicious stare and started to pack my bag with things I would need. Cell phone, gum...
"I thought science was your favorite?"
Ipod, hair tie... "Well, yeah, it is... But you know what people say. Science and math go hand in hand," I muttered. Okay. So the only people who ever said that were science teachers trying to convince you that youdid in fact need a calculator for their class. So what.
Deck of cards...
...What? I promise you that if you bring a deck of cards with you everywhere you go, you will never be bored. You just whip it out and start playing a game of solitaire. Sure, people give you some pretty strange looks, but...
"So I'm leaving in about 10 minutes for my meeting... I left both my cell phone number and yours on the counter for the baby-sitter, so if there's a problem he'll be able to get in touch with at least one of us."
"He?" I questioned, turning around to glance at my mom. "The babysitter's a dude?"
She knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. "Didn't I mention this to you?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"Oh... I meant to, but I suppose it slipped my mind," she mused. "Well, anyway, I managed to hire your friend from next door."
My mouth dropped open as I gaped at her, but my mother didn't seem to notice. She kept talking.
"What's his name again? Brian? No, no... Brady. I called his mother up a few days ago to see if she knew of any babysitters in town, and he happened to pick up the phone, which sparked the idea of asking him if he'd be interested in-"
I finally shook my head free of the shock. "Mom, you can't!" I yelled, interrupting her sentence.
She glanced questioningly at my sudden outburst. "I can't what, Andrea?"
"Hire him! Hire Brady Hanson to watch Danny!" I was now on my feet, pacing and flailing my arms around while I spoke. Horrible thoughts started going through my head.
