I wondered if Lauren would keep bothering me, but she didn’t. Aside from Austin Mahone, Rocklin High’s resident Justin Bieber wannabe, giving me what he thought passed for "the nod" every time he saw me, everything was back to normal within a couple of days. At least it was until the following Thursday, when I ran into Lauren at the movies and she actually had the nerve to talk to my parents.
Lauren works at the theater, and I knew there was a chance she would be there, but I never imagined she would do anything with my mom and dad standing there. I also couldn’t not go because Thursdays are too big a deal. See, my accident happened on a Wednesday, and the next day, when my parents should have been planning my funeral, I was released from the hospital, and we all went out to celebrate the fact that I was alive. Every Thursday since then has kind of become our day. Like a family day. Sure, my parents are completely corny and like to get all mushy on me sometimes, but I still love Thursdays.
Maybe it’s lame to hang with your parents, but I wouldn’t give up Thursdays for the world. My parents are all I’ve got. They’re the only two people in the world that I can completely be myself around. So despite their quirks, when we go out and have a good time together, it’s the only time I ever feel like a normal kid. That’s why my parents would have known something was up if I’d suddenly opted to stay home in order to avoid seeing Lauren.
I’ve seen Lauren at the movie theater lots of times, and she always looks at me weird and then takes our tickets without showing any other hint that she actually knows who I am, so I figured it would be okay. But I knew I was in trouble this time because her face lit up as we walked through the door. I guess making out with her changed the rules somehow and made it acceptable for her to say hi to me, because she gave me such a cheerful "Hey, Camila!" that it actually startled my parents.
She flashed me that stupid, charming grin of hers, and I glared back, but my mother practically swooned. Before she could ask, Lauren held out her hand and said, "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Cabello."
"I’m Camila’s friend Lauren. It’s really nice to meet you."
So we’re friends now? One random kiss and a rejected date make us friends? I wanted to argue the point, but she didn’t appear to be sarcastic at all, and the sad fact is, I don’t have any friends. The fact that she even talked to me made her the closest thing to it, so I guess there was no harm in letting my parents believe it. At least then they might get off my case a little.
Lauren shook my parents’ hands, and my mother all but pulled her in for a big, tight hug. I know she’s a little desperate for me to make friends and have a normal life, but if I had been trying to do that, she definitely wouldn’t have been helping any.
You have to understand my mom, though. She and my dad are a normal teenager’s worst nightmare. Seriously, they’re straight out of one of those after-school specials about teenage pregnancy or anorexia or whatever. You know, always trying to help me be strong by telling me how proud of me they are and how much they love me and stuff.
In today’s world of divorce and family dysfunction, my parents are basically freaks. They’ve always been cheesy and way overprotective—I suppose that’s just what happens when you’re raised in a little farming town in Illinois—but it’s gotten much worse since my accident. Sometimes I think they act like that because they’re afraid I’m tiptoeing on the edge of sanity, and if my home life isn’t perfect I’ll crack. But the truth is, my accident has affected them as much as me, and with everything we’ve been through in the last year, we’re all probably borderline lunatics. I’m sure they need the image of perfection as much as I do.
While I should have been mortified when my mom greeted Lauren with a hug, I couldn’t really blame her. Instead, I just wanted to kill Lauren. Buttering up my parents and getting their hopes up like that was a pretty low blow. But the girl really knows how to play the game, I’ll give her that much.
