Date: Fri, 28 Oct 2005 12:38:14 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Eagleson <robineagleson@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Luckiest Summer Part Three

The Luckiest Summer
Robin Eagleson
robineagleson@yahoo.com

Part Three

The weekend came and went, and nothing changed.  Still no call from Dad,
and for the most part, still no sign of Jesse.  Mom took me shopping on
Saturday, and then to a movie and out for dinner, but it didn't improve my
overall mood a lot.  By the time I woke up on Monday I was alone in the
house again, and it seemed like my life had bottomed out again.  It had
been over a week since Dad had left now.  I had heard nothing from Brad, or
even Tyler for that matter, since the day everyone came over to use the
pool.  In a relatively short time span I had gone from being the most
popular person in the world to the most unnoticed person in the world.

I had no choice but to return to the lifestyle I had become used to:
staring blankly at the TV while lying prostrate on the couch.  It was just
after one before the phone rang and interrupted my loneliness.  I had
already given up hope, by now, that when the phone rang it would be Dad.
It was becoming increasingly clear to me that he had decided to pretend he
didn't have children; maybe he would meet a new woman and start a new
family, but cutting ties with his old one was a certainty.  It had never
occurred to me before that divorced parents might not want to continue
seeing their children; it appeared that was just one of many ways in which
I had been naïve.

"Is this Zach?" came a female voice at the other end of the line.  My heart
immediately exploded in my chest; I had forgotten all about the girl that
had a crush on me.  I didn't realize we were on a first name basis.

"Yeah," I said, my glum tone of indifference quickly transformed into a
feeble voice that shook slightly.  I could never keep it out of my voice
when I was nervous.  "Who's this?" I forced myself to ask, even though I
knew.

"It's Nadia," the voice responded.  So we really were on a first name
basis.  I hadn't actually forgotten about her altogether, but a few days
ago I had decided Robbie was probably just messing with me, and that even
if he wasn't, that she wouldn't end up calling.  Now the moment had come
and I didn't know what to say.  "From school," she added, probably able to
hear my heart beating through the phone.

"Where did you?" I asked, my throat drying up enough to where I had to
swallow before I could finish, "get my number?"  I felt like a retard
already.  That was a dumb question to ask anyway, and an irrelevant one.

"Directory," she answered shortly, and then, "duh?"

"Oh, right," I said, wanting to hit myself on the forehead but resisting.

"I thought maybe you'd like to meet me at the mall," she said, using no
transition whatsoever.  No `I know we don't really know each other' or
`We've never actually spoken before'.  Just `I thought you'd like to meet
me at the mall'.  I imagined how confused I'd be if Robbie hadn't already
warned me she would call.  Suppose he hadn't said anything?  I wouldn't
have understood why she was calling out of the blue and wanting to meet me
at the mall.  Did girls always think they could call you without knowing
you and make plans to get together without any sort of attempt at getting
to know you first?

"Okay," I found myself saying, because if I said no I'd never live it down,
and because it seemed like the only answer I could give.  If someone who
doesn't know you calls and asks you to do something with them, what can you
really say?  I couldn't be rude and tell her I didn't want to because I
didn't know her, and I didn't want to offend her.  Plus, it was a girl.

"Good," she said.  "Meet me at the food court entrance at two then," she
said simply, matter-of-factly even.  That was the whole conversation.  Was
that how you set up a date?  Had we just set up a date?  I didn't really
know.  What I did know was that I had no conceivable way of getting to the
mall at two, only my mind had been so jumbled that I hadn't thought about
it until we'd hung up.  My brain hadn't been working properly.  I panicked
and paced around my house for about five minutes, and then did the only
thing I could think of: I raced outside, ran across my yard, and knocked on
Brad's door.

There was no answer at first, so I knocked louder and harder.  Just when I
thought there was no one home and that I would have to stand Nadia up
without any explanation, the door opened and Brad was standing in the
entryway on his cell phone.  He motioned for me to come in and kept
talking.  I couldn't hear what he was saying because he went to the kitchen
to finish his conversation, and I stood rigidly in the hallway between his
front door and his living room, not feeling comfortable enough to sit down.
He didn't make me wait too long.

"Hey man," he said, seeming friendly enough.  From the looks of it,
concluding I wasn't that cool after all had nothing to do with why I hadn't
seen him the past couple of days.  Regardless, that wasn't my concern right
now.

"I need a ride to the mall," I blurted out immediately.  "A girl called and
I told her I would meet her there at two and I have no other way of getting
there.  I wouldn't ask you but I have no other way.  I don't know why I
didn't think of it when I was talking to her; I'm stupid, sorry," I said,
running out of breath at the end.  "I'm really stupid," I added, feeling
dumber and dumber by the minute.

"Quite understandable," he finally said when I'd shut up long enough to
give him a chance to talk.  "Your first outing with the girl, right?" he
asked.  I nodded.  "Then of course you weren't thinking.  Happens to the
best of us," he grinned, and I finally relaxed a little.  Maybe he would be
able to bail me out.  He turned back to look at the clock hanging over the
mantel.  "That's less than an hour away," he observed softly, sounding
almost doubtful.  I waited for him to decide that he, in fact, would not be
able to do it, and automatically started to hang my head.  "You'd better
hurry up and shower," he said instead, and I looked at him, happy but
confused.

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

"You're a mess," he laughed, his eyes appraising me.  "No matter how cute
this girl may think you are, you can really damage that if you show up
looking like shit.  I mean, I don't think you look that bad, but you've got
to try a little harder at least."  He was being brutally honest, as usual.

"Okay," I agreed.  "I'll go take a shower and come back here when I'm
done," I said, already heading out the door.

"Wear something nice," he called out to me as I jumped off his porch.  "But
keep it casual!" I heard him add loudly as I bounded back across the yard
and disappeared into my house.  It was true, I had to admit, that I hadn't
showered in a few days.  My hair was scattered and kind of sticky, but
honestly my appearance had been the last thing on my mind when I realized I
had agreed to something that I shouldn't have.  I rinsed off quickly, spent
the majority of the time scrubbing my hair, and then threw on a shirt and a
pair of khaki shorts that Mom had just bought for me on Saturday when we'd
gone shopping.  They were both pretty stylish, and I thought they fit the
"nice but casual" description Brad had advised me to go with.  Quickly I
raced back across the yard to Brad's and opened his door without knocking.
I had only left ten minutes ago, after all.

"Okay!" I called to him.  He appeared in the hallway, giving me a look as I
stood in the entryway.

"Better," he observed.  "But not perfect."  He motioned for me to follow
him.  Confused once again, I did so.  He was leading me to the bathroom at
the end of the hall, nestled in between two bedrooms, one being Tyler's,
and the other being, I assumed, Brad's for the time being.  He flipped on
the switch and steered me in front of the mirror, where I was met with the
same face I had seen in the mirror at my house.  I looked at Brad's
reflection behind me, seeing for the first time just how much he loomed
over me.

"What are we doing?" I asked curiously.

"A couple of things," he said in a business-like manner.  "Have you ever
tried gelling your hair?"

"No," I answered.  "I think it looks fine without it."

"Fair enough," he answered.  "I don't gel mine anymore, either.  I mean, I
wouldn't even if I had hair," he grinned, as I was looking skeptically at
his hair in the mirror and wondering what the point would be of gelling the
closely shaved stubble on his scalp.  "But it can still be an effective
style trick, even in today's messier-is-better society," he continued,
grabbing a bottle of it from near the sink and opening it.  "Trust me,
you'll like it," he assured me, opening the bottle and applying some into
his hands.  I watched him closely, hoping he knew what he was doing.  I
liked my hair to look reckless (like he said, messier was better), and I
didn't particularly want him to touch it, but I didn't stop him when he
rubbed his hands together slightly and began to grab handfuls of my hair.
He monitored the process carefully, glancing back and forth between me and
my reflection, rotating my head this way and that to make sure he got each
follicle where he wanted it.  Before long he had managed to dishevel it
perfectly; it looked just like it did if I toweled it dry vigorously and
let it settle into place, only spikier and a little more fixed in the
position.  I had to admit I liked it, and he could tell I did when I
allowed a small smile.  "Told you," he smirked as we studied it together in
the mirror now.

He turned on the faucet to rid his hands of the gooey substance, and then
opened a drawer right in front of me.  He pulled out several bottles of
cologne and lined them up for me.  "Okay, this is the next step.  You can
use any one of these.  Which one do you like?"  I stared at all the
bottles, trying to decide on appearance alone.  I picked up a few and
sniffed them, and in the end I decided on a trendy container with the label
"Hugo Boss" on it.

"An excellent choice, sir," he sniffed pretentiously, taking on the air of
a servant, but genuinely appearing to approve of my decision.  "Here," he
said, losing his false tone as he grabbed my hands and positioned them
together with the palms up.  He sprayed a small amount into them and rubbed
my hands together.  "Rub your wrists together, and then pat them on your
neck," he instructed, and I did so slowly, having never actually put on
cologne before.  "That should be perfect," he said when I had completed his
task.  "I gave you the right amount; you won't reek of it, but anyone who
gets close will definitely smell it," he assured me, looking very pleased
with himself.

"And finally," he said.  "I don't wanna embarrass you or anything, but I
hope you put on deodorant," he ventured, not really looking all that
concerned if I was embarrassed or not.

"Oh," I said, blushing slightly.  "I forgot," I admitted.  "But I do have
some!" I added quickly, wanting him to realize I was old enough to own a
stick of deodorant.  "I was just in a hurry and I forgot about it."

"I know," he said, brushing off my stammering excuse.  Wordlessly, he
handed me a stick of Old Spice.  "You can have that," he said.  "I haven't
used any yet, and I probably won't need it.  I have other kinds."  I felt
weird about taking deodorant from him, but I didn't protest; I reached
underneath my shirt and dabbed it quickly into my right armpit, and then my
left.  "Oh yeah, one more thing," he added.  "This isn't meant as an insult
to you, because I'm sure you brushed your teeth this morning and
everything," (I hadn't, although I usually did), "but take some of this,
too," he said, sliding over a bottle of mouthwash.  He handed me a small
paper cup and I poured a small amount into it and swished with it, spitting
in his sink when he told me it'd been long enough.  "It's after 1:30, let's
go!" he said then, pushing me out the doorway quickly and leading me to the
front hallway.  "Nice choice on the outfit, by the way," he smiled as we
entered the garage.  "You're not completely helpless fashion-wise," he
said.

I got in his car and immediately buckled my seat belt, remembering what a
horrible driver he was from last time.  At least his speeding and general
disagreement with the traffic laws meant we would be getting to the mall on
time.  He gave me one last look to make sure I met his approval as he hit
the garage door button and waited for it to go up, seemed to find my
appearance acceptable, and nodded.  For a moment I thought he was going to
put his arm around me, but he was just resting his arm on the top of my
seat while he turned around to reverse.  He didn't reverse slowly; instead
he pulled out of the garage and out onto the street in one fast motion,
making the tires squeal slightly as he threw the gear from reverse into
drive in another quick motion.  I was already scared.

He blared his music pretty loud again.  This time I didn't recognize the
band, but they were definitely a lot more hardcore than Coldplay.  He
appeared to have a wide range of taste in music.  We were nearly there
before he turned it down and looked over at me again.  "You did bring
money, right?" he asked, and I shook my head.  He very nearly slammed on
the brakes even though we had been going down the road at a reasonable
speed previously and there was no reason to be stopping.

"Are you joking?" he asked, and again I shook my head, not sure why it was
such a big deal to him.  "What if she wants to see a movie or something?"
he asked.  "Or get something to eat?  You can't make her pay for you, can
you?  I'm not saying you'll have to pay for her, but you've got to at least
have money!"  He shook his head in astonishment.  "I guess I forget how
thirteen-year-olds think or something," he said as we got closer and closer
to our destination.  "But clearly you weren't thinking at all."  It almost
felt like I was being lectured, and I didn't say anything.

We pulled slowly into the lot and he winded around the parked cars slowly,
idling towards the food court entrance that I had told him to drop me off
at.  With a sigh, he put the car in park and reached into his pocket.  He
pulled out a twenty from his wallet and handed it to me, and I recoiled,
horrified.

"I can't take money from you!" I said, but he didn't flinch.

"Oh, trust me, you're paying me back," he responded evenly.  "This isn't
charity.  Consider it a friend looking after a friend.  Actually, I'm
saving your ass.  Do you have any idea what a loser she'll think you are if
she wants to see a movie and you don't have any money with you?  You can't
go to the mall with a girl and not bring money, no matter how old you are.
If you remember nothing else the rest of your life, man, at least remember
that."  I had to smile at his words of his wisdom, but I didn't move my
hand to take the outstretched twenty-dollar bill.

"I still can't take it," I insisted.  I struggled to come up with a good
reason.  "My mom wouldn't like it," I finally said, knowing it was true,
but also knowing that had nothing to do with it.  Mom wouldn't like
anything that had transpired between me and Brad, probably, based on her
attitude last week.

"For fuck's sake," Brad said, still not backing down.  "This has nothing to
do with your mom!  I'm simply loaning you twenty dollars so you don't make
an ass out of yourself in front of this girl today.  If you don't pay me
back I'll chase after you with a rounded wooden object later."  I smiled
again, and slowly extended my hand and closed my fingers around the bill.
"Take it and go already, you dumb little bastard," he said, but he was
grinning as he said it and I didn't mind.  I snatched it away from him,
pocketed it, and got out of his car.  I leaned against the door after I got
out, trying to decide what I should say after all the favors he'd just done
me.  And to think I'd been moping about him, figuring he didn't really like
me that much and didn't care if he never saw me again.  While he might not
have cared if he saw me again, at least he had been willing to help me out
today, and I was brimming with gratefulness that I didn't have any idea how
to express.

"You're welcome," he said, cutting me off when I started to speak.  He
waited until I pulled my arms off the side of the car, and then he took
off.  I turned and slowly made my way towards the door, but wheeled around
when I heard his tires squeal and his car back up, even with me once again.
"Don't act like you," he said, giving me one last piece of advice.  "Be
cocky.  Make her think you could have any girl you want.  You can't be
nervous or you'll lose serious points."  With a final parting grin, he left
for good that time.  I wrinkled up my nose and shook my head as I walked
inside.  How could I not be nervous?  Hopefully he was misjudging the
situation, anyway.  She wouldn't actually want to see a movie, would she?

But she did.  She did want to see a movie.  At first I thought it was going
to be her that stood me up.  I hovered around the food court area for
fifteen minutes, fidgeting nervously on a bench while I looked around in
vain for her.  My heart sank fast when two came and went.  I had gotten all
excited, made Brad bend over backwards to get me here, and now she wasn't
even going to show up, and what's more is that I was stranded at the mall
indefinitely.  Come to think of it, even if she did show up I wasn't sure
how I was supposed to go about getting home.  I guess I could always call
Mom, but that would lead to lots of questions I would have to answer.

"Since when do you gel your hair?" a voice asked from behind me all of a
sudden.  I knew, instantly, that it was her, and I waited until I was sure
I wouldn't appear nervous to turn around and meet her eyes.

"It's a new thing," I admitted, making an effort not to look embarrassed by
her immediate observation about my extra stylish appearance.

"Well, I like it," she said after quietly running her eyes over my hair.
"I think you should do it like that more often."  I looked up into her
face, then, and had to overcome another brief period of panic.  She really
was attractive, and from what I had noticed at school, pretty popular, too.
I was pretty sure I wasn't a match for her, and I couldn't go on fooling
her all afternoon.  "Did you come alone?" she asked, her icy blue eyes
scanning the bench as if she might have overlooked a friend sitting beside
me.

"Yes," I answered, managing to avoid a stammer.  "Was I supposed to bring
friends?" I asked, forcing a smile I hoped appeared somewhat sly.  She
shrugged indifferently.

"I didn't know if you would, so I brought some with me.  But I told them
I'd be with you the whole time if you were alone."  She smiled then, and I
felt even flutterier, because she was really pretty when she smiled.  "So I
blew them off when I spotted you on the bench by yourself, basically," she
said with an innocently short laugh.  I hadn't said anything in a while,
and after a moment of silence, I started to feel that maybe I should.  It
wasn't the kind of thing I was good at, though, and I didn't really see
what there was to say.  "We can go somewhere if you want," she finally
said, saving me from having to make a stupid comment.

"Like, somewhere in here?" I asked, immediately wanting to throw myself
into the nearby fountain that a few people were tossing pennies into.  So
much for not making a stupid comment.

"Yeah, that's sort of the idea," she responded coolly, and this time I
really did blush.  I knew I had already failed miserably at being cocky.
She was so much at ease that whatever nerve I had summoned up was gone.
Then again, I couldn't have expected someone that called me up at random
and came right out by inviting me to the mall without any pretense
whatsoever to be timid.  Reluctantly, I got to my feet.  She was taller
than me, which was kind of embarrassing.  Then again, most people were.
"You're funny," she said, giving me a look that lingered for a few seconds.

"Thanks, I guess," I said, and we started walking.  But I felt better.
Rather than act as though my shyness was a shameful quality, she seemed
amused by it instead.  There was hope for me yet.

It was much easier after that.  So it was with relative ease that we spent
the next several hours together, walking around aimlessly, popping in at
random stores and talking comfortably.  Eventually she would, of course
want to get something to eat, and then, of course, want to see a movie,
just as Brad had thought she would.  And of course, it never occurred to
her I might not have money to finance my end of these things.  By the time
we were settled in at the movie, though, my twenty had been cut more than
in half; it was down to a few ones and some change.  I just hoped she
wouldn't want to eat again after the movie or something.

I wasn't anywhere near brave enough to touch her, but I considered it
progress that I'd even thought of it over the course of the movie.  It
seemed like the thing to do.  Didn't guys and girls sometimes hold hands
while watching movies?  Didn't they put their arm around each other?  I was
pretty sure they did, but I definitely wasn't going to try it just yet.  It
was going on six by the time we got out of the movie.

"I don't mean to sound like a bitch," she said as soon we were back outside
in the light.  "But I have to go find my friends.  They're my ride home,
and Amy's mom is supposed to pick us all up in a few minutes.  It'll
probably take me twenty minutes just to find them in the first place," she
grumbled.  "Did you need a ride?"

"That's okay," I shrugged, even though I did.  I just didn't want to be in
the same car with her and all her friends; I wasn't ready for that
humiliation.  Me and a carful of girls?  My cheeks would be rosy for the
next month.  "I can look for them with you if you want, though."  She
smiled at my innocent offer.

"I'll be alright.  Do you want to meet me here again on Friday?" she asked,
every bit as straightforward as she was earlier on the phone.

"Sure," I agreed quickly.  I didn't mean to sound too excited, but I don't
think I succeeded, because she smiled again.  She gave me her number.
"Call me on Friday, then," she said.  "I'll see you."  Then she turned and
was gone, but when she glanced back at me several steps in the distance and
smiled again, I knew instantly how Brad had felt on the night he'd taken me
to get pizza with him.  I also realized, all of a sudden, why he had been
so happy about his receipt.  She'd put her phone number on it.  That was
what he had been doing with his cell phone right after he got it.  And that
same look he'd gotten from her as she walked away from him that night, I
had just gotten from Nadia.  It was good to get that look.

But I had a problem now: I needed to get home.  There was nothing to do but
find a pay phone and call Mom.  I would have called Brad if I knew his cell
phone number, but it was just as well I didn't.  There was no need to
bother him anymore.  The problem with calling Mom was that I was going to
have to answer a bunch of questions, and probably lie in response to at
least one of them.

I went outside and ambled up to the phone, sighing over the clink of my
change being inserted into the slot.  I dialed our number slowly, hoping to
have a brainstorm as my finger pushed in the digits so I could call someone
else.  Simply put, there was no one.  I pressed the last button and
listened to the dull ring tone as the connection was made.  She answered on
the second ring, which wasn't a good development.  It meant she was
probably sitting there waiting for me, as opposed to doing something that
was keeping her mind off the time.

"Mom?" I said tentatively.  I waited to see if she was going to say
something about me not being home at five.  She didn't, at least not right
away.  Instead she merely waited for me to explain myself.  "I'm sorry I
wasn't home by five," I started, hoping to save myself later trouble.  "I
was at a movie that just ended.  Anyway, can you come get me?" I asked.

"I suppose," was all she said.  I was relieved that was all she said, but
it also unsettled me a bit.  Surely I wouldn't be getting off this easy.
Surely she had questions.  Nonetheless, I told her what entrance I was at,
found a seat on a nearby bench and waited.  She didn't drive nearly as fast
as Brad, and traffic would be slightly worse now than it had been at two,
so it took her twenty minutes before I saw her car pull in.  Trying to act
as though I wasn't expecting to be in any trouble, I opened the passenger
door and slid in the seat.

"Well?" she asked as she slowly made her way past the three-way stop and
back out onto the street.  "What did you see?" she asked.

"Kicking and Screaming," I answered truthfully.  That wasn't such a bad
question.  "It was okay," I added, hoping to turn our focus to the
conversation away from the more serious questions that were soon to follow.

"Aha," she said.  "I don't see why everyone thinks he's so funny," she
said, referring to Will Ferrell.  "He always plays the role of an overgrown
child.  It gets old."  Mom didn't like very many comedies.  Briefly, I had
an opportunity to keep her steered in that direction, but she moved on
before I had the chance to keep her going.  "And who did you see it with?"
I turned the possible answers over in my head and tried to decide, without
taking too long, if the truth was an acceptable answer here.  I decided it
was.

"This girl from school," I said evasively.

"I see," she said, giving me a glance.  "So that's why you put so much
effort into your hair."  I had forgotten about my hair.  I fidgeted in my
seat beside her.  Was she going to ask me where I got the styling gel to
make it look like that?  Because I didn't own any and never had, and it was
clear that something had been required to make my hair look as it did.  She
reached over and tried to run her fingers through the front, but was met
with stiff resistance.  She smiled.  "What'd you put in it?" she asked,
sounding mildly interested.

"Just gel," I answered, wishing we could leave it at that.  But the
avalanche had already begun.  I would have to tell a lie in my next answer,
and maybe a series more of them before we were done.  At least, I felt that
I would have to lie or else she'd get really mad.  If she didn't want me
spending time with Brad, I don't imagine she would appreciate knowing he
had styled my hair, given me his deodorant, and loaned me twenty dollars.
That would surely result in a confrontation I didn't want any part of.

"Are you wearing cologne?" she asked, rather than pursuing the gel question
any longer.  She leaned over to me again and sniffed quickly.  I didn't own
any cologne, either, and I had forgotten about it too.  This was starting
to get sticky.

"Yeah," I answered quickly.  "You see, I stopped off at Kevin's house
before I went.  His mom gave us a ride, and I was at his house before we
went."

"Strange," she answered.  "I don't recall you getting hold of me at work to
let me know you were going to be going over to Kevin's.  Or that you were
going to the mall at all, for that matter."

"I'm sorry," I answered.  "I was going to call you at five and let you know
where I was so you wouldn't have to worry, but the movie didn't end until
six."

"I understand that," she said.  So far she was still calm, so my
interrogation was going about average.  I had already lied, though, and I
felt guilty about it.  I didn't like lying about being with Brad, but if
she was going to act weird about it, I had no choice.  "Make sure you call
me at work from now on.  You can at least leave me a message in my office
so I know you won't be home."

"I will, Mom, I'm sorry," I repeated, trying my absolute best to be
agreeable.  She smiled at my politeness and patted my leg, which I figured
to be a good sign.

"So I thought you went with a girl from school," she said, returning to the
interrogation and pulling her hand away from me at the same time.

"I did," I said.  "It was more of a group outing, I guess."

"I see."

She hummed quietly along with the radio for the next few minutes while
occasionally glancing over at me and smiling.  It looked like everything
had worked out, after all, and I started to relax finally.  I had already
been deciding on how I would spend my night, my mind going to other things,
when she went past the turn that was supposed to take us back to the house.
I waited a second, and then frowned.

"Are we going somewhere?" I asked timidly.

"No," she said.  "But we're not going home until I find out why you just
lied to me."  My heart slid lethargically into the pit of my stomach, a
cold sensation accompanying it.  How did she know?  I immediately began to
fidget again, knowing now I was in ten times more trouble than I would have
been in if I had just told her the truth about everything in the first
place.

"What do you mean?" I asked, but my shaking voice gave me away.  Not that
it mattered.  She wasn't bluffing; clearly she knew something she hadn't
let on earlier, and I had already given myself away anyway.  There was
nothing that could save me now.

"I talked to Brad," she said simply.  "He told me he gave you a ride to the
mall."  My throat was dry, so I didn't say anything.  "I thought you might
be over there, so I went over to find out.  He answered the door and said
you were at the mall with some girl, and that he'd dropped you off earlier.
So I'm having trouble figuring out why you would want me to believe you
went with Kevin instead."

"Because you don't like Brad," I answered, slumping down in my seat.

"How could I not like him?" she asked, her voice still dangerously quiet.
"He's a nice boy.  It's not that I don't like him; it's that I don't know
him.  It's fine he gave you a ride.  It's not fine that you lied to me
about it."

"Last week you told me not to spend time with him anymore," I mumbled.
"And I haven't since then!  I just needed a ride today, that's all."  We
were driving around a residential area just a few minutes from our house.
I wasn't sure why we had to be driving around while we had this talk, but
at least I could stare straight out the windshield and watch the road
instead of having to make eye contact with her.

"Yes, that's perfectly understandable," she responded, although I knew she
didn't really find it to be perfectly understandable at all.  "I just don't
see why you'd feel the need to lie about something so insignificant.  I'd
rather you get a ride from Brad than a complete stranger, although to be
honest as far as I'm concerned Brad's about the same as a complete
stranger.  If you're going to lie to me about being with him, then maybe
you shouldn't be allowed to see him anymore at all."

"You already told me not to see him!" I snapped, starting to get angry.  I
could feel my ears burning already.  I didn't understand why she was being
so weird about Brad; he was just a friend who happened to be a few years
older, that's all.

"I told you not to stay over at his house until midnight," she corrected
me.  "I assumed you'd still go over there during the day.  But if this is
the way you're going to be about it, maybe you shouldn't go over there at
all."

"How would you be able to stop me, anyway?" I asked.  I hadn't meant to.
It just came out, and I immediately regretted it.  It was not the right
thing to say.

"I can't stop you," she admitted, slowing down to a crawl and looking over
at me for a second.  "But I can call you every hour from work and ground
you if I catch you not being at home."  I pouted at her threat, slumping
down even lower and staring at the floor.  I wanted to get out of the car
and run away.  "Don't make me do that, Zach," she said, as if she wouldn't
unless I talked her into it.  "I don't want you to have a bad summer."

"I already am!" I shouted.  "Since I'm not allowed to have a father or make
any friends, I'm not exactly having a wonderful time, am I?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, but her tone had softened slightly.  "Your
dad will call soon, and you can have as many friends as you want.  But Brad
isn't a friend.  He's eighteen.  You're thirteen," she reminded me, not for
the first time.  "Are you ready to go home now?" she asked with a sigh.  I
said nothing; I didn't even bother pointing out that it hadn't been my idea
to postpone going home in favor of having this whole conversation in the
first place.  "I just don't understand," she said again.  "Why would Brad
be so concerned about your appearance that he would loan you his hair gel
and his cologne?"  I had given up on defending him, so I didn't say
anything.  I continued to sulk the whole way back.