by Mari Mancusi
I’d know that vanity plate anywhere.
ASHLEY1
As in Ashley #1, former friend, and now sworn enemy. Ashley #1, child of The Evil Ones’ best friends, the Parkers. The best friends who play bridge with The Evil Ones every Thursday night.
Tonight.
Ashley #1 has just seen me making out with a boy under the parking deck on the wrong side of town.
I’m so dead.
Chapter Sixteen
“What’s wrong?”
Of course Sean notices something’s wrong. I’m quite positive every last drop of blood has drained from my face and I’d currently make Casper the Friendly Ghost look tanned.
I motion to the spot where the BMW pulled out moments before. “That car belonged to my ex-friend Ashley,” I say. “And I’d be willing to wager my entire college fund that she’s on her way to tell her parents she saw me with you.”
“And let me guess,” Sean fills in. “You all go to the same country club.”
I grimace, but nod. “Yeah. The Evil Ones are bound to find out about us by nightfall.”
Sean drops my hand. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble….”
“Oh, no!” I assure him. “You didn’t. This was my decision to come down here. Sean, I want to be with you. And I’m not going to let my parents run my life anymore. You’re not some dirty little secret I have to hide. If they don’t approve of us, well, that’s their problem to deal with. Not ours.”
He grins and gives me a happy smooch on my cheek. Gah! Even his quick pecks have the power to send those crazy tingles to my toes and fingertips. If he could market that kind of electricity, he could solve the energy crisis.
Suddenly, a perfect “sure as” analogy comes to me. At first I’m not positive I should say it. Get it out in the open like this. It’s risky, but it’s true, and, well, I’m sick of playing games and following the rigid dating rules from the editors at Seventeen.
“As sure as I am that I love you?” I say, then hold my breath as I wait for his response.
He smiles widely and pulls me into a warm hug, his fingers stroking my back. “You know, Dawn?” he whispers, his breath in my ear evoking a billion more tinglies. “You should say, as sure as you are that I love you.”
“Oh really?” I nuzzle my face into his shoulder. Feeling happier at this moment than I can ever remember feeling my entire life. “Am I sure about that?”
“You should be.”
*
I open my front door like I’m dead girl walking, ready to face my executioners. At the same time, my insides are breaking out the nonalcoholic champagne and dancing on tabletops. It’s a bad combo of feelings and it’s making me a little sick to my stomach, to tell you the truth.
“Dawn Ashley Miller! Get in here. Now!”
I cringe. Here we go. Put the Sean Loves Me celebration on ice. The Evil Ones have arrived to bust up the party.
I drop my book bag and turn into the parlor. Mom and Dad have actually expended the calories needed to rise from their seats and are currently staring at me, arms folded across their chests and extreme fury in their eyes.
Gulp.
“Hey, guys,” I say, in an inane attempt to pretend nothing’s wrong. “How’s it hangin’?”
“Sit,” my dad says.
Uh, yeah. Woof, woof, Dad. Are you going to give me a Scooby Snack afterwards?
I plunk down on the hard antique sofa, wondering how anyone in this century or last could actually think it was comfortable. I mean if it’s worth money, fine. Sell it on craigslist and then hit Pottery Barn. No need to keep it around, cluttering up your house and offending the poor butts that have to sit on it.
“What is going on with you, young lady?” Mom starts in first.
“What do you mean?” I ask, channeling that wide-eyed, innocent look of Puss in Boots.
“Cut the bull, Dawn!” Dad storms, evidently channeling his inner ogre. “We just got off the phone with Ashley Parker’s parents.”
I swallow hard. I already figured that they must have, but to hear it confirmed still kinda stung. Thanks a lot, Ashley. Good friend you turned out to be. Then again, she probably phrased it in a way that made it seem like she was only looking out for my safety.
“And your Chemistry teacher,” my mother adds.
Uh, oh. I squirm in my seat. This is worse than I thought. I mean, I figured I could talk my way out of the Ashley thing—maybe say it was a case of mistaken identity or something, but if Sister Mary Anne narced on me, I’m screwed.
“… and your gymnastics coach. And your ballet teacher. And the yearbook advisor,” Dad lists off.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap!
“Do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Mom asks, in her pseudo shrink voice.
“Not especially,” I mutter.
Dad explodes. His face is beet red, his nostrils flaring. “Failing tests? Skipping school? Ditching after-school activities I pay good money for?”
I really have no defense for any of this, so I just sit there, staring at my hands, waiting for it to be over. My stomach burns in anger and I want to punch a wall or something. It’s that frustrating. You know, anyone who says being a bad girl is all fun and games should get her head examined.
“And if all that’s not enough,” Dad rages. “Then we find out from Ashley Parker you’ve been sneaking off to a dangerous part of town and are cavorting publicly with some white-trash crackhead underneath a parking deck. Dawn, what’s going on with you? We didn’t raise you to act like this!”
Okay, that’s it. I leap from my seat, squeezing my hands into fists. They can yell at me, they can call me on the carpet about my failings in school, but they’re not going to insult poor, sweet, innocent Sean who did absolutely nothing wrong.
“He’s not a crackhead!” I yell, giving Dad the most evil glare I can muster. If only I were Medusa and could turn him into stone with just one look. “You don’t even know him!”
“Dawn, you’re not even allowed to be dating yet,” my mother pipes in with her stupid logical argument. “Not until your sixteenth birthday.”
I turn on her. “Of course I’m not allowed to date yet. I’m not allowed to do anything yet. My whole life is one big ‘no.’ Every day filled to the brim with a series of activities I have no interest in. That you’ve forced upon me against my will.”
“Dawn, these activities are important,” Dad interjects. “Harvard requires that prospective students—”
“Screw Harvard!” I cry, staring him down with my hands planted on my hips, totally in unleash-the-fury mode. “I’ve never wanted to go there anyway. It’s a stupid school with a bunch of elitist snobs. It’s your dream that I turn into some Ivy League nightmare, Dad, not mine! It’s never been mine.”
I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be so red in the face as my dad is now. I’m a bit worried about his heart condition, but I can’t stop.
“You know what my dream is, Dad?” I demand. “No, that’s right, you don’t. You don’t know anything about me. What I want to do. Who I want to be. ‘Cause you don’t give a rat’s ass. As long as you can brag to your friends that your daughter’s following in her old man’s footsteps, that’s enough for you. I’m like a stupid puppet for your ego.”
“Dawn, that’s not—” Mom tries.
“Not what? Not true? Yes, it is, and you know it. Okay, then. What do I want to be when I grow up? Huh, Mom? If you’re so keyed into Dawn’s life, tell me.”
My mother shrugs, looking defeated.
Of course.
“Yeah, I thought so,” I reply. I push past her and storm out into the hallway. “Let me guess. I’m grounded for the next two millenniums. I’ll be up in my room.” I stomp halfway up the stairs, then stop and turn to face them.
“By the way?” I add in my sweetest voice, then pause for dramatic effect. “I got my belly button pierced too.”
I have to admit, the horrified looks on their faces does give me some satisfaction.
Chapter Seventeen
If I thought my life was boring before, it’s ten thousand gazillion times worse now. No phone. No Internet. No TV. No cell. Even the extra-curricular activities I moaned and groaned about have been stripped away.
“Give you more time to work on your little limericks,” my father says sarcastically. Yeah. Way to encourage your child to follow her dreams, Dad.
So I wake up, go to school, come directly home, and study in my room. I do not pass go or collect two hundred dollars. In fact, my allowance has been taken away altogether. I’m let out of jail free briefly for dinner and then sent straight back to my room to finish studying.
The grounding is set to last for two months. But I’m not allowed to see Sean again, ever. We’re totally Romeo and Juliet now. Well, without the messy suicide part.
And that’s the suckiest part. The rest I can deal with. But Sean, I miss dreadfully. I can’t even call him to let him know I’m okay. The Vile Evil Ones of Broken Dreams (I’ve added on to their nickname to better emphasize their true demonic qualities) took away my cell phone and I had his number stored in my address book, so I can’t even phone him from a pay phone at school. He’s probably totally worried about me.
At least I kind of hope he is. I hope he hasn’t gone off with some other girl who’s actually allowed to date him. I mean, he’s a seventeen-year-old, majorly attractive guy with a killer personality. Some lucky, pretty girl is certain to snatch him up. Why should he wait around for me? Sure he said he loved me, but love can fade in time. And a lot of time is passing.
Seeing as I have hours and hours with nothing to do but think, this worry pops up a great deal. In fact, even asleep I’m tortured in my dreams by Sean cheating on me. Though technically, we were never officially going out, were we? So does that really count as cheating? Well, it sucks either way.
I have to see him again. Tell him I’ll be back in two months. That I love him and can’t live without him. That somehow, some way, I’ll convince my parents he’s not a bad guy and I should be allowed to date him. I have absolutely no freaking clue how I’ll accomplish such a change in The Vile Evil Ones of Broken Dreams’ Grinch-sized hearts, but I have to try. My future with the boy I love depends on it.
I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Why, oh why, did I have to alienate the Ashleys? If I hadn’t, then Ashley #1 would have never told on me and I’d still be with Sean. Stupid, Dawn. Real stupid.
“Are you hungry, chica?”
I sit up in bed as my door creaks open. Magda pops her head in. “I made your favorite,” she says, entering the room carrying a tray piled high with food. “Carne Asada.”
My mouth waters. Carne Asada is like this Mexican marinated steak and it’s sooo good. We hardly ever have it ‘cause of my dad’s high cholesterol and my mom’s aversion to the fat content of red meat. (I wish she’d switch to Atkins.)
“Yum. What’s the occasion?”
She sets the tray down on my nightstand and sits on the side of my bed. She’s such a small woman that the mattress hardly bows under her slight weight. “Your parents are out at a business awards dinner,” she explains with a sparkle in her dark eyes. “I am your jailer tonight.”
I laugh. “Cool.” I grab the fork and knife and dig in. It’s delicious. Spicy and tender. Magda is a rocking cook. “Can I sneak out then?”
The housekeeper shakes her head. “You want to get me fired?” she asks. “My children would not thank you for that.”
Darn. But yeah, I’d never endanger her job. That would be way selfish of me. But the children thing … that reminds me!
“Hey, Magda, do you know the McNally family? They live down the street from you.”
The housekeeper nods. “Rhonda McNally is a dear friend. She has had a difficult life, raising all those children by herself, but she has managed nicely.” She pauses for a moment, then turns to look at me. “How is it that you know them? Surely none of her children go to your school….”
“Her son Sean is my boyfriend,” I explain, getting a tingle inside as I say his name. I miss him so much.
Magda raises an eyebrow. “Your parents know about this?”
“Um, yeah. Sort of. Note the groundation.”
“Ah,” Magda nods knowingly. “Now it becomes clear to me.”
I flop down on my bed and moan. “What’s clear is how much it sucks, Magda. I totally love him. And he loves me. He told me, last time I saw him. And he’s so cute and nice and fun and talented and wonderful….”
“And smart,” Magda adds. “That boy has always been smart. I remember the day we caught him running around the neighborhood, still in diapers. He’d managed to figure out the mechanical workings of his crib and escaped like some sort of bambino Houdini.”
I giggle, trying to picture the tall, handsome skater as a baby in diapers. He’d probably be so embarrassed if he knew Magda was telling me this.
“Yes, he’s smart,” I agree. “He is a computer genius, too.”
“And very handsome,” Magda adds, a teasing glint in her eyes. “My daughter, she is only eight, and she claims she will marry him someday.”
I can feel myself blushing. “Yes, very handsome,” I say, with a deep sigh. “Very handsome.” I roll over to my side, propping my head up with my hand. “But The Evil Ones see none of this. They think ‘cause his family isn’t rich that he’s not right for me.”
Magda shakes her head. “You should not call your parents such names,” she scolds. “They are doing what they think is best for you. They love you very much.”
“They don’t. They love the idea of me. To brag to their friends. And when I don’t live up to their ridiculous expectations, they punish me.”
“It may seem this way to you,” Magda says. “But as a mother of three, I can tell you, it is not so. They look at you and want to do right by you. But they are also scared. They are afraid you will go down the wrong path.”
“But Sean’s not the wrong path,” I protest. “He’s totally right for me.”
“Is your relationship with Sean the real reason you are grounded?” the housekeeper asks pointedly.
I ponder this a moment. “Well,” I admit grudgingly, “I guess I kind of disobeyed every rule in the book, too. But that’s only because I knew they wouldn’t allow me to see Sean in the first place.”
Magda nods. “You will never know, then, will you? Perhaps they would have liked Sean, had you brought him to dinner in the first place instead of sneaking around in dangerous parts of town behind their backs. Lying to them.”
Grr. I hate to admit it, but she has a point. What if I had been honest from the start? Asked him to dinner, introduced him to The Evil Ones. He’s so nice and charming, perhaps they would have welcomed him with open arms.
Like Magda said, now I’ll never know.
“Chica, do not worry so,” Magda says, rising from the bed. “Things will work out in the end, I promise. But you should always tell your parents the truth. And know they are not out to ruin your life.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I sit up in bed to take another bite of my delicious dinner. Suddenly, a brilliant idea comes to me. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” I ask, my mouth full of steak.
“Of course.”
“Can you deliver a note to Sean for me? Drop it by his house or something? I can’t contact him ‘cause they took away my phone and stuff. But I just want to let him know I’m okay.” I give her my best pleading look. “After all, even prisoners are allowed to send and receive mail.”
“You are too much.” Magda smiles indulgently. “Okay, I think that can be arranged. But do not tell your parents.”
Yes! I let out a “woot” of joy and jump out of bed to grab a pen and paper. Let them take my cell phone, my IM, my e-mail, my texting capabilities. Let them deny me my right to technology.
The mail, via my rocking housekeeper/friend, will always get through.
Chapter Eighteen
The return note from Sean comes the n
ext day. Scribbled on a scrap of yellow lined paper, folded, and neatly placed underneath my dinner tray, courtesy of Magda.
Dear Dawn,
What’s up? How are you? Probably sucky, huh? That totally blows that you got in trouble with “The Evil Ones.” (heh heh!) Parents. Can’t live without ‘em, can’t shoot ‘em (That’s what my brother Larry always says!)
I’ve been okay, I guess. School’s way boring, but I’m gearing up for that big skater competition I told you about. You know, the one that offers the scholarship? Yikes! Wish me luck, I’m gonna need it.
Anyway, gotta get to school. My mom says hi and hopes you can come visit soon. She says she’ll cook her world famous jambalaya cause I told her how much you love spicy food!
Okay, talk soon. Don’t worry about me. When you get out, I’ll be here. I love you and miss you. xoxo
Love,
Sean
PS Your poems rock! Thanks for sharing them with me.
I reread the words a thousand billion times and go to sleep with the note under my pillow. He misses me. He’s waiting for me. How wonderful is that? Knowing he’s there, thinking about me, makes the whole grounding torture seem almost bearable.
And he likes my poems! I had felt a little silly including a few of my favorite poems in my letter, but he had said he wanted to read them, so I figured, why not? With Sean, I figure, I can be myself. The real me.
Man, I had no idea it was even humanly possible to love someone so much. I cannot wait to see him again. Stupid Evil Ones, keeping him away.
Two more weeks pass uneventfully. Every day is pretty much the same. At least I’m able to catch up on my schoolwork and the gnawing guilt of falling behind fades away, replaced with an almost satisfying feeling of accomplishment. I mean, call me a goody two-shoes nerd, but I actually prefer having the nuns praise me for my efforts, rather than scold me for my failings. I guess I’m not cut out to be a bad girl, huh? Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.
