Deciding the best way to deal with it is head on, I go to the kitchen, trying my best to ignore the nerves bubbling in my stomach.
"I made you waffles and bacon even though you said you weren't hungry," Mom says when I enter the kitchen, her back to me as she rinses off a dish in the sink before setting it in the open dishwasher. "There's a plate waiting for you at the table."
"Thanks," I say gratefully as I go to the kitchen table and sit down, hoping the food will help ease the nerves.
Mom turns off the faucet and shuts the dishwasher door, then grabs a dishtowel out of the drain, drying her hands as she turns to look at me. I duck my head, my hair falling over my face, but the gasp that escapes her tells me I didn't duck fast enough.
"Amanda." My name whooshes out of her mouth, full of dread and shock. Her shoes click loudly across the tile floor and then she's right there, standing in front of me, her fingers slipping beneath my chin so she can tilt my head back and examine my face fully. "My God. What happened to you?"
I try to smile, but the stern look on her face prevents me from doing it. "It was an accident."
Her fingers drift over my face, and I wince. "Did someone hit you?" Her voice is quiet but with a lethal edge. Like she's ready to tear someone apart for hurting her baby girl. "Tell me, Amanda. What happened?"
Deciding not to hold back, I launch into the entire story, giving her pretty much every detail minus the reason the boys were fighting-supposedly over me-and the fact that Jordan kissed me. The more I explain, though, the more she scowls, until when I finally finish my story, I'm afraid her face is going to permanently stay that way.
"I thought you split up with Jordan Tuttle."
I thought so too, I want to say, but I don't. "I'm … confused over what's happening between us."
"He sounds like he's trouble."
"He's not that bad. Really." He's a big heap of trouble, but I'm drawn to him anyway. Can't tell her that either.
Her mouth is a tight line. "I've never liked you going to all those parties, and here's the perfect reason why. You're grounded."
My jaw drops open. "Are you serious? Why? I'm almost eighteen, Mom. You can't ground me."
"As long as you live under my roof, I can do whatever I want. And I can definitely ground you from going to those parties. They're nothing but trouble. People drinking and doing drugs and having-" Her voice drops to a harsh whisper. "-sex. They're not a good place for you to be."
How can I argue with her when everything she says is true? "So you're only grounding me from parties?"
"Yes." She nods. "For a month."
"A month?" That's a long time. Four weeks. Thirty days.
"Keep questioning me and I'll make it two," she warns.
I snap my lips shut and keep quiet.
"I know you have to work, and you still have a social life minus the house parties. Plus there's football, though that's ending soon, right?"
I shrug, then pick up a piece of bacon and start munching on it. "Depends on how far they go into the playoffs." I don't want to argue with her or trigger her into grounding me from everything. I need to remain neutral in order to save my senior year.
And I really don't want to miss the parties, especially if Jordan continues to host them at his house. What will he say when I tell him I can't go? He'll think I'm lame. Totally immature since I'm grounded.
"Well, the football season feels never-ending. It's already November."
"We could play until right around Thanksgiving if they keep winning."
"Great." Mom shakes her head. "Will you hate me if I wish they would lose?"
"Mom! You can't wish that. Some of those guys have potential full-ride scholarships hanging on this. If they win regional and even state championships in their division? They'll look like superstars."
"Hmm. Well, all this hydration station stuff takes my daughter away from me. It's not the same like when you played with the band. Then I could at least go watch you and enjoy the performance. Now when I watch the band, I get sad. And there's not much to see when you're handing out water bottles to the players."
She makes my job sound so small. And she can't get over the band thing. Even though I feel like she's baiting me, I'm not going to argue. I just keep munching on bacon and hope she drops the subject.
"I miss you," Mom says when I remain quiet. She smiles and I see the sadness there lingering in her eyes. "You're going to leave us soon. We only have a few months left before you're gone forever."
"Oh, Mom." Now she's making me feel bad. "I'll still be around. I thought you wanted me to go to community college."