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Authors: Alyson Noël
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I’m a big geek, and a total dork, and I’ve made a complete fool of myself.
So you can see how I’d rather just have her think I’ve been involved in some adolescent shenanigans.
“Have you been drinking?” she whispers, looking nervously upstairs where I assume my father is sleeping off his jet lag.
“Yes,” I say. I mean, why bother lying at this point?
“How much did you have?” she demands.
“I don’t know. One? Two glasses of wine?”
“Any drugs?” She eyes me suspiciously.
“No, okay? Now can I please just go upstairs?” I look at her briefly then back at the ground.
“Rio, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t like you hanging out with those kids. I think they’ll lead you down the wrong path.”
Oh, god.
Wah wah wah.
In my head I make her voice sound like the parents on the Charlie Brown Christmas special.
“And I don’t know why you reject perfectly nice girls like Kristi Wood,” she continues.
“Because girls like Kristi Wood aren’t exactly interested in hanging with me. They’re a pretty tight, exclusive group,” I say, my voice rising to dangerously high levels that could possibly disturb my father’s slumber.
“Well, maybe if you distanced yourself from the troubled kids you seem so fond of, the more popular kids would give you a chance. You know, Rio, water seeks its own level.”
She looks at me and I roll my eyes, but I do it when I’m looking at the ground again so that she can’t really see it.
“Why don’t you wear some of those nice clothes I buy you? Make an effort, and see what happens,” she says gently, but persuasively.
“Can I go now?”
“Yes. But, Rio, I don’t want you hanging with those kids anymore. Do you understand?”
I just nod my head and take the stairs two at a time.
Twelve
If you think that when I got to my room I threw myself on my bed (without washing my face or brushing my teeth), and just lay there and cried until I passed out like a big pathetic loser—well, you’d be right.
So you can only imagine how scary I look when my dad wakes me on Sunday morning.
“Rise and shine, kiddo,” he says.
And as I roll over and open one eye, I briefly catch the fleeting expression of horror on his face. So I know it’s bad because he’s a criminal-defense litigator, he’s used to seeing some ugly stuff.
He quickly recovers and clearing his throat, he says, “I thought we could run over to Roger’s Gardens after breakfast, it’s supposed to be the best plant nursery around.”
In an attempt to spare him from further shocking images, I’ve taken my comforter and thrown it over my face, so through a thick layer of goose down and a duvet cover with a really high thread count, I say, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
And he says, “Take your time.”
When he’s gone I roll out of bed and go into my bathroom. And when I look in the mirror I totally admire his self-restraint. A lesser person would have screamed.
Because what stares back at me is truly awful. My eyes are not onlybloodshot, but puffed out to twice their normal size. And the ring of smeared black mascara that circles them looks like a police outline of a crime scene.
Which in a way, it is.
So I stand there and torture myself by staring at my own scary reflection. And I think:
Dumbass! Yes,
you
standing there with the smeared makeup.
You
the one who said, “Oh, Jas, I’ve been waiting for this
all night!”
And then closed your eyes to receive a kiss that never came. How will you ever face him? Do you think he’s laughing? Of course, he’s laughing. He’s probably laughing this very moment,
with Monique!
And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it because the words are
out there
and you can’t take them back! All you can do now is get your pathetic, dumbass self into the shower and try to salvage some crumb of dignity. It won’t be easy, but you better do it. Because if you don’t, then you’re a bigger dumbass than even
you
think
!
So
So you can see how I’d rather just have her think I’ve been involved in some adolescent shenanigans.
“Have you been drinking?” she whispers, looking nervously upstairs where I assume my father is sleeping off his jet lag.
“Yes,” I say. I mean, why bother lying at this point?
“How much did you have?” she demands.
“I don’t know. One? Two glasses of wine?”
“Any drugs?” She eyes me suspiciously.
“No, okay? Now can I please just go upstairs?” I look at her briefly then back at the ground.
“Rio, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t like you hanging out with those kids. I think they’ll lead you down the wrong path.”
Oh, god.
Wah wah wah.
In my head I make her voice sound like the parents on the Charlie Brown Christmas special.
“And I don’t know why you reject perfectly nice girls like Kristi Wood,” she continues.
“Because girls like Kristi Wood aren’t exactly interested in hanging with me. They’re a pretty tight, exclusive group,” I say, my voice rising to dangerously high levels that could possibly disturb my father’s slumber.
“Well, maybe if you distanced yourself from the troubled kids you seem so fond of, the more popular kids would give you a chance. You know, Rio, water seeks its own level.”
She looks at me and I roll my eyes, but I do it when I’m looking at the ground again so that she can’t really see it.
“Why don’t you wear some of those nice clothes I buy you? Make an effort, and see what happens,” she says gently, but persuasively.
“Can I go now?”
“Yes. But, Rio, I don’t want you hanging with those kids anymore. Do you understand?”
I just nod my head and take the stairs two at a time.
Twelve
If you think that when I got to my room I threw myself on my bed (without washing my face or brushing my teeth), and just lay there and cried until I passed out like a big pathetic loser—well, you’d be right.
So you can only imagine how scary I look when my dad wakes me on Sunday morning.
“Rise and shine, kiddo,” he says.
And as I roll over and open one eye, I briefly catch the fleeting expression of horror on his face. So I know it’s bad because he’s a criminal-defense litigator, he’s used to seeing some ugly stuff.
He quickly recovers and clearing his throat, he says, “I thought we could run over to Roger’s Gardens after breakfast, it’s supposed to be the best plant nursery around.”
In an attempt to spare him from further shocking images, I’ve taken my comforter and thrown it over my face, so through a thick layer of goose down and a duvet cover with a really high thread count, I say, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
And he says, “Take your time.”
When he’s gone I roll out of bed and go into my bathroom. And when I look in the mirror I totally admire his self-restraint. A lesser person would have screamed.
Because what stares back at me is truly awful. My eyes are not onlybloodshot, but puffed out to twice their normal size. And the ring of smeared black mascara that circles them looks like a police outline of a crime scene.
Which in a way, it is.
So I stand there and torture myself by staring at my own scary reflection. And I think:
Dumbass! Yes,
you
standing there with the smeared makeup.
You
the one who said, “Oh, Jas, I’ve been waiting for this
all night!”
And then closed your eyes to receive a kiss that never came. How will you ever face him? Do you think he’s laughing? Of course, he’s laughing. He’s probably laughing this very moment,
with Monique!
And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it because the words are
out there
and you can’t take them back! All you can do now is get your pathetic, dumbass self into the shower and try to salvage some crumb of dignity. It won’t be easy, but you better do it. Because if you don’t, then you’re a bigger dumbass than even
you
think
!
So
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