My Life As a Teenage Zombie

Mommy Dearest

"What on earth is going on?" is the first thing my mother says upon entering the house. I just stand there, staring at her, incapable of answering. She walks over to the couch. "Jonah Jones, who are these two? Why are they in my house? Answer me, boy."

Great. Things were finally starting to look up, too.

"Don't you keep quiet now," she continues, then points from Mason to Henry. "Both of you, out of my house, now."

They obey right away, giving me concerned looks as they leave. Henry gives me a small nod, but I'm not quite sure what that's supposed to mean.

"They're just friends from school, mom," I tell her.

"That big one had tattoos. You know how we feel about them. Is that the type of crew you're with now?"

"There is no crew, mom."

"Don't you talk back to me, Jonah Jones." I look down as she says that. I can't look at her when she's being like this. "Don't you look away from me. When I speak, I expect you to look me in the eye and listen."

"I'm listening, mom."

"Look at me!" My head snaps upward, because I know I'll never get it done if I move slowly. Why's this so much scarier than an elf or a werewolf? "Did I give you permission to invite people over?"

"No."

"Then why did you?"

"I..." I look at Simon, who gestures toward my bag. "I needed help with some school stuff."

"On a Friday night? You better not think I believe that, mister."

I look away again, and she stomps right up to me, grabs my lower jaw, then makes me look at her.

"What. Were. They. Doing. Here?"

She's a full head shorter than me, but I still freeze in fear. "H-Hanging out."

"Is that beer I smell on your breath?" Fuck. "Your eyes are red. How much did you have?"

"Just a li-"

She interrupts me by slapping me across the face, which renders me speechless. Here's the thing I fear most in this world. Some people are scared of heights, tight spaces or the dark. I'm scared of my parents. Simon starts to stand up, but I shoot him a look, and he sits right back down.

"You've always been a disappointment, but this is a new low, even for you," she spits in my face. "Just like that damn brother of yours. Do you want to go to boarding school, too? Do you?"

I mutter a no, but she doesn't like that, so she yanks my hair to make me look at her again.

"Speak up for yourself!"

"N-No." Fuck. There goes my stutter.

"No mumbling, Jonah Jones. Speak up. Do you want to go to boarding school or not?"

"No." I barely manage to control my voice. Come on, don't start crying now.

She breathes a tired and disappointed sigh. "Where did we go wrong with you? Why can't you just be a good son? Instead of studying and going to church, you throw parties? And you even dragged Simon into it!" Yes, God forbid she should blame the priest's son for anything. "And look at these clothes you're wearing? All black all the time. What will the neighbors think? That we're a family of Satanists? Go up and put on something appropriate. We'll continue speaking then."

"Why can't I just be me?" The words fly out of my mouth on their own. Why can't I just crawl into a hole and stay there until the storm is over? Why can't I be a hermit crab? They've got it easy. "Why can't I just be myself, mom?"