Read Online How to Ruin My Teenage Life by Simone Elkeles - Free Book Online

one of these days if he doesn’t let up on the work hours.
    He walks closer to my bed and I slip the picture of Avi and his letter under my pillow.
    â€œI have responsibilities, Amy. Ones I’ve committed to long ago.”
    â€œYeah, yeah,” I say, sitting up. “I’ve heard the spiel before. What now, the president of the United States needs you to act as his bodyguard?”
    â€œThe Secret Service does that.”
    â€œThen what’s so important?” I ask him.
    â€œI have to go out of town. That’s what the call was about. It can’t be postponed, not this time.”
    Cool. So I’ll get the condo all to myself? The possibilities are endless.
    â€œWhen?” I say a little too eagerly.
    â€œOn Friday morning. I’ll be back on Sunday.”
    Two whole nights without parental figures! Brighter times are definitely ahead. “Can I use your car?”
    â€œOnly to go to your mother’s house. That’s where you’ll be staying. I just got off the phone with her. You can have my car to drive to her place.”
    Nope, not okay. “I am not staying with Mom and Marc. What would I do with Mutt? Besides, I think Marc is allergic to both of us.”
    â€œWe’ll put him in a kennel.”
    I wish he were talking about Marc, but I’m not that lucky. This time I stand up, ready for battle. “First of all, Mutt and I are a package deal. He is not going to a kennel. Period, end of story.”
    It takes me exactly fifty-six minutes to convince my dad I’m old enough to stay at the condo without parents.
    Brighter times are definitely ahead.

9
    Kosher question #2: You can’t mix milk and meat because
God commanded “You shall not boil a kid (baby lamb)
in its mother’s milk” (Exodus 23:19). So why can’t I mix
milk with chicken? You can’t milk a chicken.
    â€œWhy do you keep glancing at the door every two seconds?” Marla asks me the next day at work.
    Umm … maybe it’s because my dad’s date is gonna be here any second, followed by my dad who still doesn’t know he’s going on a date. He thinks Marla needs to talk to him about my work schedule. I made up some ridiculous story to get him into the café at seven o’clock.
    â€œI’m watching for my dad,” I tell my boss guiltily.
    The door to the café opens. It’s a woman I’ve never seen before. Is it Kelly, my dad’s date? Or is it someone else? Kelly wrote in her e-mail that she has strawberry blonde hair. This woman kind of has strawberry blonde hair, although it’s really frizzy and she needs some expensive hair products to help tame that mane of hers. That picture she posted online was with her hair straight, but maybe she forgot to flatiron it today.
    She walks up to the counter and suddenly I’m feeling self-conscious, like I have to impress the woman. “Are you Kelly?” I ask.
    The woman shakes her Brillo pad head. “No.”
    â€œOh, good.”
    When she frowns at me, I try and recover quick. “Can I take your order?”
    She looks up at our board of specialty coffees, taking her time. I have the urge to give her a snoring sound (I’m good at those) but don’t think Marla will appreciate my humor. So I wait with a smile on my face. And wait.
    And wait.
    And wait.
    I swear, any more of this waiting and I’m going to frown. My mouth can’t take all this fake smiling. I start humming, but I don’t even realize it until the woman looks down at me with a stern expression. Seriously, thank goodness this woman isn’t my dad’s strawberry blonde date.
    The door dings. Another customer. “Are you ready?” I ask the woman who can’t make up her mind. I could just see her as my stepmom, me waiting for her to pick me up from school, taking forever to pick out groceries, and waiting for her to order a simple spicy tuna roll from Hanabi.
    Looking around