Twelve Steps to Normal(8)

“They’re really delightful,” Nonnie adds. She’s sitting at our kitchen table pouring a glass of orange juice. Her hair is free from the rollers, a curly mass that looks like a gray raincloud sitting atop her head. “Almost better than sex.”

Peach nearly drops the spatula. “Nonnie!”

She’s probably worried about corrupting my sweet, innocent ears. I grab a bowl from the cabinet and suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m familiar with the concept.”

“This isn’t exactly the breakfast conversation I wanted to walk into.”

Peach’s face drains of color as my dad joins us in the kitchen. He’s wearing a nice blue button-up and khaki pants. His face is clean-shaven and, if I’m being honest, it’s the healthiest he’s looked in a long time.

I decide to make this as uncomfortable as possible. If I play it up, maybe they’ll leave faster. “Yeah, I know from experience. I had loads of sex in Portland.”

Nonnie’s face lights up, clearly amused by this, but Peach looks appalled. My dad takes one look at my deadpan expression and says, “She’s kidding.”

I don’t bother clarifying. Instead, I grab a box of cereal from the pantry. Bran Flakes, gross. But I’m determined not to give in to the niceness of pancakes. I don’t want to enable them to stay any longer than they have to, and I won’t be bribed with delicious breakfast food.

I feel Peach watching me as I pour my cereal. To make up for my behavior, my dad decides to lay it on thick. “Oh man, mmmm. This looks phenomenal.”

Peach grins. She hands my father a stacked plate and passes him the syrup.

I gulp down my cereal like it’s the most delectable meal on this good earth. Nonnie watches me. She’s still wearing her floppy kitten slippers.

“Is it your plumbing that’s backed up?”

I shoot her a confused glance. “What?”

“You know.” She gestures to her stomach. “Constipation?”

I almost choke on my cereal.

“Because Bran Flakes are good for that, you know.”

Oh my god. I have to get out of here.

“Fiber helps,” she adds.

I let my empty bowl clatter in the sink. Like I’d ever take advice from someone who still wears kitten slippers.

My backpack is sitting by my desk upstairs, but when I come back downstairs I notice my keys are missing from the key rack. Weird. That’s where my dad leaves my set for the old Corolla. After he upgraded to the Nissan last year, the Corolla was promised to me once I earned my license. Since I passed my driving test in Portland, I am now legally allowed to come and go as I please.

I look on the side table, but they aren’t there, either. They’re also not on the coffee table in the living room. Sighing, I check the clock. It’s almost eight, which means I have thirty minutes to get to school and pick up my schedule. But more importantly, I have to find Whitney, Lin, and Raegan. I know when I see them the craziness of these last twenty-four hours will dissolve.

I pop my head back into the kitchen. “Where are my car keys?”

My dad chews his bite of pancakes before answering. “I don’t want you driving with your Oregon license. Everything on that car is registered in Texas.” He sets his fork down. “I’ll take you to the DMV and then you can start driving yourself. How’s that sound?”

He must be joking. I’d rather consume Bran Flakes for the rest of my life than sit through a torturous trip to the DMV with my father.

“Besides,” he continues, “I let Saylor borrow it this morning. He has an interview.”

“That’s my car.” I know I sound ungrateful, but I don’t care.

His face grows serious. “Driving is a privilege, Kira.”

Now he chooses to play the authority card? Right. He didn’t seem to care how I got to school all those months ago. I’m surprised he even knows I have my license. Aunt June must have told him. She’s the one who enrolled me in Driver’s Ed over the summer.

I cross my arms. “You could have asked me.”

His eyes harden. I know I’m pushing it. “I figured I would drop you off on the way to work.”

Anger slides up my veins. I’m going to be the only junior whose parent still drops them off curbside along with the rest of the freshmen and sophomores. No way. I refuse to look like a loser on my first day back. Besides, juniors and seniors have their own parking lot. That’s where everyone hangs out before school starts. I can’t just waltz up without a vehicle. I’ll look pathetic.

This was my one opportunity of freedom. I can already picture my dad hounding me at the DMV about everything I learned in driving school. And—oh no. Will I have to retake the test? If I do, it’ll just be another hassle that he’s caused me.

“I’ll give you a ride after breakfast,” he tells me.

I am so not ready to endure another car ride with him. “I’m walking.”

Before he has the chance to argue, I head out the door, slamming it loudly behind me.





FOUR


I DON’T WALK. AT LEAST, not all the way. I text Lin from the bus stop, and she happily agrees to come get me.

As I wait for her in the humid morning sun, I can feel my hair frizzing in the damp air. What a waste of a blow dry. I use a hair tie from my wrist to pull it back into a ponytail. Trickles of sweat fall down the back of my neck. I silently curse my dad. If he’d let me drive, I wouldn’t be standing here melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.