by Meg Cabot
Becky F
8:33 PM
Please don’t come if you’re drunk. We have enough intoxicated people here. Besides the horse cough syrup, the kids also got into Reed’s sister’s liquor cabinet.
Nicole F
8:33 PM
Oh, don’t worry, we’re not that buzzed. And we’re not driving. Leeanne is.
Becky F
8:33 PM
Wait, Leeanne is back?
Nicole F
8:33 PM
Yeah, she just got home and came straight to Authentic to party with you and the lumbersexual, but of course you broke up with the lumbersexual, and Leeanne can’t drink. So don’t worry, she’s driving.
Becky F
8:34 PM
Oh, this is all totally reassuring.
Sweetie Ty
Reviewer ranking: #1,162,355
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30 in. x 80 in. Molded Brilliant White 6-Panel Smooth Solid Core Composite Single Prehung Interior Door
As pictured
March 17
So this is my door.
Or at least it’s the door I used to have, before my mom took it away, which if you ask me isn’t fair, since none of this is my fault.
She took Tony Jr.’s door away too.
She also took his cell phone, computer, TV, and car keys.
I would say “Poor Tony Jr.,” except that I don’t feel sorry for him at all. He deserves it. He’s lucky he wasn’t arrested by that cop who was here . . . except that it turns out that horse cough syrup doesn’t have anything in it that can get you high.
Who would want to get a horse high, anyway?
But Tony Jr. DID let all his friends drink everything out of Mom and Dad’s liquor cabinet.
He really can’t say I didn’t warn him, because I told him it was a bad idea.
He blames me for the whole thing—getting busted, I mean.
But how was I supposed to know when the doorbell rang that it was Uncle Reed and his new girlfriend? I just thought it was another one of Tony Jr.’s idiot friends.
So naturally I opened the door as I had been doing all night, and prepared myself to tell them my rules:
•Shoes off (so no dirt/mud/germs get on Mom’s carpets)
•Phones off (so no incriminating photos/videos)
•No puking
•No going into my room
Only it wasn’t one of Tony Jr.’s idiot friends. It was Uncle Reed.
And now, because I let in Uncle Reed, our lives are going to be 100% completely different.
I was super happy to see him. Really, after having been grounded all week, I was happy to see anyone who wasn’t one of Tony Jr.’s Tussed-up friends or one of my boring acquaintances, who I’ve really gotten sick of lately. All they ever talk about is whatcollegeareyouapplyingto or makeup.
I’m going to be happy to make all new friends. I NEED to get out of this boring, stupid town.
And Uncle Reed was soooo nice. He said, “Oh, hey, there, Ty. I barely recognized you! You’ve gotten so grown up,” which it wouldn’t kill Uncle Marshall or Aunt Carly to say once in a while.
Even his girlfriend, Becky Flowers, said, “Oh, wow, I love those shoes,” which shows she has a good eye, because of course I was wearing my nude Louboutins, as one should while entertaining guests.
Anyway, I told them Mom wasn’t home.
“I know,” Uncle Reed said. “Your mom borrowed some important paperwork from your grandpa’s office last night. I was just wondering if we could pop into her study or office or wherever she might keep that kind of thing and have a look at it? Grandpa needs it back. It’s kind of an emergency.”
I told them sure because I knew exactly what they were talking about. I saw Mom carrying in a bunch of big boxes last night from Grandma and Grandpa’s. I asked her what they were and she said her “birthright.”
I asked what that was and she said I should try educating myself instead of spending all day texting my friends. So I bought a real nice silver Tory Burch bracelet online with her credit card that I guess she’s going to be even more upset about someday.
But right now she’s got plenty to keep her occupied. LOLOLOLOLOL.
So then Uncle Reed and Becky went into Mom’s study and after a while they came out again with a couple of boxes.
That’s when they heard the music from the den downstairs.
Uncle Reed went, “You kids wouldn’t happen to be having a St. Patrick’s Day party, would you?”
I don’t know what gave it away. Maybe it was all the green Jolly Ranchers scattered across the kitchen counter. Really, if you think about it, everything that happened tonight, besides being Tony Jr.’s fault, is also Mom’s fault for insisting on having a kitchen that looks out onto a great room that also connects to her office door, so she could “keep an eye” on us while she’s “working” (which really means looking up her old friends on Facebook and laughing at their photos).
“Uh, yeah,” I said, because you shouldn’t lie to your celebrity uncle. “Tony Junior is having a few friends over.”
“I’m going to go down and say hi to him. I haven’t seen him in a long time. It will only take a second.”
Uncle Reed put down his box and went into the basement to say hi to Tony Jr., leaving me alone with his friend Becky. She smiled at me and said, “You certainly have a lovely home.”
I smiled back at her because this was the only civilized thing anyone had said to me all night! All of Tony Jr.’s friends had just looked at me and said, “Nice tits,” or the equivalent.
This is another reason I’m happy to be leaving this disgusting town.
I said, “Thank you. It was built in the year 2002, which was towards the tail end of the neo-eclectic architectural style of suburban home design, and according to my mom combines Cape Cod, French Provincial, Chateau-esque and Georgian Revival styles. We’re quite fond of it.”
Becky’s eyes got very big and she said, “Wow.”
I know people think I’m a dumb blonde but according to my guidance counselor I have nearly 98% aural recall which is why she thinks I should go into telecommunications for college.
I understand the University of Florida has quite a strong department.
That was when I heard shouting, and suddenly Uncle Reed came bursting back up the stairs, holding Tony Jr. by his Polo shirt collar.
“That’s it,” Uncle Reed said. “We’re calling your mom.”
Tony Jr. looked more scared than I’d ever seen him.
“No, dude,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what I think,” Uncle Reed said. “You think I wasn’t young once? You think I didn’t do lame, idiotic things like this? Your own grandfather was the Chug-a-lug Champ of the Hijinks Club! This sort of thing runs in our blood. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get busted for it. Everyone gets busted, everyone has to pay the price, and everyone has to choose which road they’re going to take in the future . . . the road to success, or the road to the basement.”
“But you already busted me,” Tony Jr. wailed. “Whadduya gotta call Mom for?”
But it was too late. Uncle Reed was calling Mom. I guess she was kind of crabby when she answered, because Uncle Reed was crabby back to her.
“Oh, yeah?” he said to her. “Well, I don’t care how many awards they’re giving your husband. There are seventeen intoxicated kids in your basement and if you don’t come home right now and deal with it, I’m calling each and every one of their parents to come and pick them up—which I can do because I’ve confiscated all of their cell phones—and telling them that you gave them alcohol, because in essence, you did. How do you think that is going to play in the school’s e-newsletter this month?”
Then he hung up on her.
This is much more exciting to write about now that I know I’m moving. At the time, it wasn’t that fun, because I was pretty worried about what Sundae’s mom was
going to say about my mom in the e-newsletter. Sundae’s brother was downstairs, even though he’s only a freshman.
Uncle Reed found out about that, too. He found out about everything, even that Tony Jr. was charging $4 per red cup of lean.
The only thing he didn’t find out is that I still have Mom’s credit card.
“But I’m an entrepreneur,” Tony Jr. tried to say in his own defense, before Mom got home and sent him to his room (he still had a door, back then). “Like you, Uncle Reed.”
“Your uncle isn’t an entrepreneur,” Becky said, speaking up for the first time. I feel like she hadn’t wanted to get involved until then, but it was a good thing she chose that moment to do so, because Uncle Reed looked so mad when Tony Jr. said the thing about wanting to be an entrepreneur like him, I was afraid he might slam him against a wall. “He’s an athlete. Do you have any idea how hard your uncle worked at his sport when he was your age? How many hours a day he practiced? He’d get up at five—before the sun rose, most days—and play until school started, then play after school until the sun set, and sometimes even in the dark, with glow-in-the-dark balls. He did it in winter, when it was freezing outside, and he did it in summer, when it was so hot that sweat was dripping off his face. He didn’t get paid to do it. He didn’t do it for trophies, or to be popular. He did it because he loved the game. He did it to challenge himself, to be the best he could be. He certainly never did it to be an entrepreneur, whatever that means. And he certainly never consciously set out to hurt anyone, which is what you could have done tonight, serving alcohol and medicine intended for animals to minors.”
This speech shut Tony Jr. up. It also kind of shut up Uncle Reed, at least for a while. He kept looking over at Becky like she was something very amazing, such as a new Prada bag or maybe even a Jeep 4X4, which I can appreciate because it does take something on that level to shut up Tony Jr.
But anyway that’s when Mom and Dad got home and the sh*t really hit the AC unit, if you know what I mean.
Because Mom was SUPER mad—only not at Tony Jr. She only sent him to his room to get him out of the way because he kept whining about how it wasn’t his fault.
No, Mom was mad at Uncle Reed. And not even for busting the party. She got mad when she saw the boxes.
“What are you doing with those?” she yelled. “How dare you? How dare you come into my house uninvited and go through my personal things?”
“First of all,” Uncle Reed said, “we were invited, by your daughter.” He pointed over at me.
This, by the way, is how the whole thing is my fault, and how I got my door taken away.
Mom looked at me like I was a child of the devil, and not hers. I was like, “Holla. What up.”
I totally did not get what was going on . . . then.
Then Uncle Reed went, “And we only came here to retrieve Dad’s paperwork, which you took from his house without permission. Like this deed to your husband’s new restaurant with Dad’s signature on it, indicating that he, not your husband’s parents, paid for it.”
For some reason my mom’s face turned bright red. She was wearing her new dress—a navy blue sequined Vera Wang—so with her red face, blue dress, and new highlighted blond hair, she looked a little bit like the American flag: red, white and blue. It was way patriotic.
“Phew,” my dad said from where he was standing behind my mom, in his Calvin Klein tux. “I’m glad you guys finally know. It was tough keeping that one a secret. I mean, I get it, your dad is a modest guy and doesn’t want people to know he’s loaded, so he insisted we say my parents bought the restaurants for us. But I gotta tell ya, I felt kind of guilty about it, especially since my parents cut me off years ago. So who wants a drink?” He went over to his liquor cabinet. “Oh, crap. They drank all of it?”
That was when Uncle Reed and my mom started having the worst screaming fight I have ever heard two adults have in my entire life. I know I have 98% aural recall, so if I wanted to I could write down exactly what they said.
But I don’t want to, because I don’t want to remember the things Uncle Reed accused my mom of doing, and the things she said back to him. They were too terrible. A child shouldn’t be subjected to those kinds of things.
And I am a child. Becky even said so when she walked over to me and took me by the arm and gently led me into the den and turned on the TV at very high volume and said, “I’m so sorry this is happening right now. I’m going to call for some help.”
Except of course when help came, it was a cop and Becky’s sister and some Asian lady, and all they did was keep my mom and Uncle Reed from killing each other (and take turns calling Tony Jr.’s friends’ parents, and make them come over to pick them up).
For a while I was pretty sure my life was over. I mean, it turns out my mom has been taking money from my grandma and grandpa even though she has a career as a high-powered attorney.
And my dad is crap at running restaurants.
But then something amazing happened:
After all the yelling was over, and all of Tony Jr.’s friends got picked up, and Uncle Reed and Becky and their friends left, and Mom took our doors away and she and Dad got finished with their fight (which Tony Jr. and I could totally hear, since we didn’t have doors or our phones so we couldn’t put in earbuds to listen to music to drown it out), Dad came upstairs and said that he and Mom were going to be spending some time apart.
Which ordinarily would be super upsetting, except that Dad said he’s had this business opportunity to open a real restaurant—not a pizza place—with a friend in Tampa, and he’s going to take it, and if we want to, we can come stay with him instead of living with Mom.
He says he won’t have much money so we’ll have to give up a lot of our creature comforts, such as the hot tub and cheerleading and skiing in Aspen, but he thinks it would be a positive experience for us because the lifestyle we have here has become super toxic and unhealthy, and we need a fresh start.
Um, live in Tampa, Florida, where the sun shines over 300 days a year and no one suffers from Seasonal Affective Disorder or Vitamin D deficiency?
Yes, please.
Do you know who goes to Florida all the time?
Harry Styles.
Do you know who never comes to Bloomville, Indiana?
Harry Styles.
Besides, Tampa is super close to Orlando, where Grandma and Grandpa are going to be. So I’ll still be able to see them all the time.
Grandma and I have a lot in common, since we both like to shop.
Also, now that I know about Grandpa’s Hijinks Club thing, I feel closer to him than ever. It’s obvious that he’s the original gangster.
Tony Jr., of course, is staying here with Mom, probably to continue his entrepreneurship. Whatever.
I’m going to use this opportunity to do what Uncle Reed said: Choose a road that leads to success, not the basement.
I swear I’m not going to use Mom’s credit card anymore. Because tonight I’ve seen what life down that road gets you, and I don’t want any part of that anymore!
I’m going to be good.
When I get to Tampa, I might even take up golf.
10 of 10 people found this review helpful
Marshall
6:05 PM
Hey, buddy, where are you? Carly wants us to sit down and eat now.
Marshall
6:10 PM
Whoa, can you believe this speech of dad’s? The old man sure does love that microphone.
Marshall
6:20 PM
Reed, I can see you over there talking to your lady love. But you need to tear yourself away so we can eat. The girls are getting antsy. You know what Taylor is like when she’s hungry. Have some mercy, buddy.
Marshall
6:30 PM
Yo, dude, what happened? I just saw you run out of here with Becky.
I know you’re trying to get into her pants, but Carly was really hoping we could all sit down and eat together as a family. I thi
nk Dad was hoping so, as well.
So, not cool, especially on the one good day he’s had in a while.
Marshall
6:55 PM
Seriously, Reed, Rhonda just came up to me and said she thinks she told you something that maybe she shouldn’t have, and now she’s worried because you looked so upset.
But she won’t tell me what it was because she doesn’t want to upset me, too.
So now I’m worried. It’s starting to freak me out that you’re not texting me back. Where are you?
Marshall
7:45 PM
Just me, checking in. You better be getting laid, otherwise I can’t think of any other excuse for you being such a dick.
Marshall
8:56 PM
OK, so Trimble just called me and told me not to believe anything you say and that you’re a lying horse’s ass and always have been.
Apparently she thinks that you and I converse a lot more regularly than we actually do.
I did not let on that I hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about, and pretended I knew everything, and that I believed everything you had not, in fact, told me.
This enraged our fair sister so much that she hung up before I could find out what it is, exactly, that you discovered she’s done.
Anything that pisses off Trimble is fine by me. So carry on, my good man. I will use Trimble’s wroth with you to placate my seething wife, who hates your guts for not dining with us, but hates our sister more.
Marshall
11:25 PM
So my wife—not me—took it upon herself to go for a little moonlight drive just now, not to spy on you, I’m sure, because my fair wife would never do such a thing. She says it was to “check the ditches to make sure you weren’t lying dead in one.”
In any case, she has just returned to inform me that your rental car is parked in front of the house of one Beverly Flowers, and that she is convinced you are in the basement apartment of that house with one Rebecca Flowers.
