day.
Cisco’s new friend Polo came in, curvy and smug, exuding a lazy sensuality. Polo had breasts, for sure. Carley told herself she ought to be thankful for Cisco’s new friend—Polo was anything but anorectic.
Carley stared at them, feeling like a witch with a hairy wart growing on the end of her nose, gnashing her teeth and rubbing her hands together as she prepared to roast a child. Yet her children’s safety was her responsibility and being a parent meant setting limits.
“Hello, Mrs. Winsted,” Polo purred.
“Hello, Polo.” Carley was sitting at the head of the table. “Cisco, Polo, sit down. We need to talk.”
The girls exchanged glances. Cisco handed Polo a can of soda. The girls sat down as far away from Carley as they could get.
“What’s up?” Cisco asked.
Carley nodded toward the ashtray in the middle of the table. “That.”
To her surprise, Polo giggled. That made Cisco’s mouth twitch. The girls shared a brief conspiratorial glance.
“Oh, Mom,” Cisco said, as if she were bored.
Cisco’s attitude took Carley’s breath away. How had this happened? How had her daughter changed so enormously without Carley even noticing? And why did this make Carley feel so
violently
angry?
She kept her voice cold and in control. “This isn’t some silly little prank, Cisco. You were smoking in the attic. You could have burned the house down.”
“But we didn’t.” Cisco lowered her lids and slid a look over at Polo, who seemed to be stifling a laugh.
“No, you didn’t, not that time. But you could have, easily. That attic is a tinderbox, dry and full of old materials. Oh, Cisco, you don’t need me to spell it out, you
know
it’s dangerous to smoke in the attic. And for heaven’s sake, you shouldn’t even be
smoking
at all! It’s
terrible
for your health. Your father and I have warned you about it, and they’ve warned you about it in school, too.”
Cisco stared steadily at the surface of the kitchen table. Her attention had switched away from Carley. Polo’s hand was on the tabletop. Her index finger was moving in a definite beat. Da da da da da da. Cisco wasn’t looking at Polo, her gaze was fastened to the table, but her index finger began to move in the same beat. Cisco’s mouth curved in a slight smile. Polo didn’t smile, but she looked
smug
. She looked sly.
In a flash, Carley understood. The girls were beating out the rhythm of a song by The Ting-Tings, which actually was a song Carley loved to dance to.
Shut up and let me go
.
Like prisoners, Cisco and Polo were tapping a message to each other.
Cisco and Polo against Carley.
Carley knew her mouth was thin-lipped as she spoke and she hated herself for it. But she knew, rationally, this was the right thing to do. “Since you two girls were the ones smoking together, the most sensible punishment I can see for this is to prevent you from spending any more time together. Cisco, you are not to bring Polo home for a week, and you can’t go to her house for a week. No phone calls between the two of you, either.”
“Mom!”
Cisco erupted from her chair, her face red, her hands clenched at her side. “That’s not fair!”
“It’s my decision, Cisco, and I’m not changing my mind. It’s obvious that you two think you’re clever and cute with your smoking and your tapping, but smoking is a serious problem and it has to—”
“I won’t smoke anymore, Mom! I promise! I won’t smoke!” Cisco had tears in her eyes.
Polo looked bored. She sat very still, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, as if anything there were more interesting than what was in the rest of the room.
“Polo, perhaps I should phone your mother and explain why I’m imposing this restriction,” Carley said.
“Go ahead,” Polo countered smugly.
“Mom, NO!” Cisco was almost screaming.
“I’m out of here,” Polo said. In one smooth move, she rose, shouldered her backpack, and loped out the kitchen door without another look at Cisco or
Cisco’s new friend Polo came in, curvy and smug, exuding a lazy sensuality. Polo had breasts, for sure. Carley told herself she ought to be thankful for Cisco’s new friend—Polo was anything but anorectic.
Carley stared at them, feeling like a witch with a hairy wart growing on the end of her nose, gnashing her teeth and rubbing her hands together as she prepared to roast a child. Yet her children’s safety was her responsibility and being a parent meant setting limits.
“Hello, Mrs. Winsted,” Polo purred.
“Hello, Polo.” Carley was sitting at the head of the table. “Cisco, Polo, sit down. We need to talk.”
The girls exchanged glances. Cisco handed Polo a can of soda. The girls sat down as far away from Carley as they could get.
“What’s up?” Cisco asked.
Carley nodded toward the ashtray in the middle of the table. “That.”
To her surprise, Polo giggled. That made Cisco’s mouth twitch. The girls shared a brief conspiratorial glance.
“Oh, Mom,” Cisco said, as if she were bored.
Cisco’s attitude took Carley’s breath away. How had this happened? How had her daughter changed so enormously without Carley even noticing? And why did this make Carley feel so
violently
angry?
She kept her voice cold and in control. “This isn’t some silly little prank, Cisco. You were smoking in the attic. You could have burned the house down.”
“But we didn’t.” Cisco lowered her lids and slid a look over at Polo, who seemed to be stifling a laugh.
“No, you didn’t, not that time. But you could have, easily. That attic is a tinderbox, dry and full of old materials. Oh, Cisco, you don’t need me to spell it out, you
know
it’s dangerous to smoke in the attic. And for heaven’s sake, you shouldn’t even be
smoking
at all! It’s
terrible
for your health. Your father and I have warned you about it, and they’ve warned you about it in school, too.”
Cisco stared steadily at the surface of the kitchen table. Her attention had switched away from Carley. Polo’s hand was on the tabletop. Her index finger was moving in a definite beat. Da da da da da da. Cisco wasn’t looking at Polo, her gaze was fastened to the table, but her index finger began to move in the same beat. Cisco’s mouth curved in a slight smile. Polo didn’t smile, but she looked
smug
. She looked sly.
In a flash, Carley understood. The girls were beating out the rhythm of a song by The Ting-Tings, which actually was a song Carley loved to dance to.
Shut up and let me go
.
Like prisoners, Cisco and Polo were tapping a message to each other.
Cisco and Polo against Carley.
Carley knew her mouth was thin-lipped as she spoke and she hated herself for it. But she knew, rationally, this was the right thing to do. “Since you two girls were the ones smoking together, the most sensible punishment I can see for this is to prevent you from spending any more time together. Cisco, you are not to bring Polo home for a week, and you can’t go to her house for a week. No phone calls between the two of you, either.”
“Mom!”
Cisco erupted from her chair, her face red, her hands clenched at her side. “That’s not fair!”
“It’s my decision, Cisco, and I’m not changing my mind. It’s obvious that you two think you’re clever and cute with your smoking and your tapping, but smoking is a serious problem and it has to—”
“I won’t smoke anymore, Mom! I promise! I won’t smoke!” Cisco had tears in her eyes.
Polo looked bored. She sat very still, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, as if anything there were more interesting than what was in the rest of the room.
“Polo, perhaps I should phone your mother and explain why I’m imposing this restriction,” Carley said.
“Go ahead,” Polo countered smugly.
“Mom, NO!” Cisco was almost screaming.
“I’m out of here,” Polo said. In one smooth move, she rose, shouldered her backpack, and loped out the kitchen door without another look at Cisco or
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