Boring Girls(23)

“Fern, do you need a ride home? I could go get Rachel’s dad and he’d be happy to drive you.”

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t live far, and I can walk from here. That’s okay.”

“Don’t you have a curfew as well?” Mom said.

“Yes, one o’clock. So I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you,” she said to my mother, and to me, she said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” I said, feeling stupid that my mother had come shuffling out of the house and ruined our talk.

I watched as Fern proceeded back the way we’d walked. I wanted to watch her until she disappeared into the darkness, but my stupid mother was right there and completely ruined the moment.

“Rachel, come inside right now,” my mother said.

I followed her up the driveway and inside, where I saw my dad sitting at the kitchen table in his pyjamas.

“Were you guys waiting up for me?” I asked, incredulous. “I was hardly late. And technically I was home. I was right outside the house.”

“You’ve never gone to a party before or stayed out late,” Dad said. “Of course we waited up for you.”

“Well, I’m fine. I’m here. Everything is okay.”

“You smell like cigarette smoke,” Dad said.

“She was outside with a girl who was smoking,” Mom informed him.

“Oh, Rachel.”

“Listen,” I said irritably. “At the party, a lot of people were smoking. And yeah, so what? Fern had a cigarette outside.”

“Fern?” Dad asked.

“Fern’s a friend of mine. But I didn’t smoke. I didn’t drink. Everything is fine. I’d like to just go to bed now, if that’s okay with you.”

My dad started in with another of his teacher speeches and began to list off the dangers of smoking, of drinking, reminding me that I was only fifteen years old. He warned me about hanging out with a bad crowd, and started talking about how marijuana is a gateway drug, even though there hadn’t been any marijuana involved in the evening. As he rambled, I wanted to scream. I wanted to slam my fists on the table, and I imagined that would scare him and Mom pretty good. I pictured myself opening my mouth and just screaming into his face. He didn’t understand at all. Neither one of them did. I wasn’t drunk. I hadn’t smoked. I had been home on time, as far as I was concerned. But they couldn’t see that everything was fine. They thought I was stupid. Mom had to come outside and embarrass me, and now Dad was treating me like I was an idiot. Both of them staring at me with wide, concerned eyes, like stupid cows. I wanted to shriek at them and scare them and shut them right up. I would scream so hard that my eyes would bulge out of their sockets. My fists clenched as I fought this urge, as I tried to swallow the anger building rapidly inside of me.

Because common sense must always prevail. If I started screaming at them, they would punish me. And I was on the verge of some really cool stuff. They’d ground me, and I wouldn’t get to hang out with Fern next week and go shopping. They certainly wouldn’t let me go to the concert. I couldn’t risk any of that happening. And so, I bore my father’s stupid lecture like a champion. I kept my mouth shut and nodded at all the right times, agreeing with him. Pretending I was stupid like they were. I would have to play nice and wait for the dust to settle a bit, and then let them know about the concert. If they couldn’t see that I was smart enough to make the right decisions, well, that was their fault. In the end, they were only discrediting themselves as parents. Didn’t they understand that I knew right from wrong? That they had taught me that from when I was a little kid? How insecure of them to doubt themselves. Didn’t they think they’d done a good enough job as parents? And if they didn’t think so, why punish me for their own weakness? It was almost comical.

In the end, they conceded that I had technically been “home” at my curfew, but next time I should actually be in the door. I agreed. They said that smoking and drinking are not good ideas, and I agreed. I agreed and agreed, nodding so much that I started feeling dizzy.





TEN


On Monday in art class, Josephine was quiet. I knew why, but for some reason I decided to play dumb. She was hurt by the way I had acted at the party. She had asked me for months to go with her, and I always said no, and the time I did accept, I ignored her the whole time. And this was after she’d assured me that she’d look after me. She was a good friend, and I did feel bad. Which sucked. I should have been on top of the world, excited about the week ahead, planning ways to ask my parents about the concert, but no. All because Josephine was making me feel guilty, sitting next to me quietly, with only a cold little “Hi.” It was irritating. I didn’t want to talk to her about it, because I didn’t want to have to apologize for it. It wasn’t my fault that I’d met someone I had more in common with than her.