Still, I am so over it. This summer, I wanted to try something different, even though I feel guilty for not helping Dad more. The business has taken a hit during the last few years with so much stuff being manufactured in countries like China and all, and my mom’s salary as an assistant bank manager doesn’t exactly make up for it. Now we’ve got to hire a lawyer. My parents don’t need to be shelling out that kind of money right now.
It’s official. I suck.
I promise myself I’ll be a better daughter, just as soon as I work out this megamess with Joey. Maybe we can both say we’re sorry and start over again. Is that what I want? That’s part of the problem. I don’t think I’ll know until I talk to Joey again. What I do know is that I want this conversation to be over. I look at the clock on the microwave. Lilliana and her cousin Marissa are picking me up down the street soon. If I can sneak out, we’re going to do a drive-by of Joey’s house and job.
“Maybe she should go away,” Mom says. She’s skimming Matty’s trip itinerary.
“What?!” Dad bellows. “We don’t even know these boys.”
“Well, of course we’ll need to call their parents, and Matty will be with her,” Mom says. I’m not sure I like where she’s going with this.
“Look,” Mom continues. “It’s not my first choice either. But it will keep Rosie out of trouble until her court date, and she might learn something.”
“You’re not serious!” Eddie shouts. His nose and forehead are pink, and he has white circles around his eyes in the shape of his sunglasses. He really needs to get some better sunscreen—it’s hard to take Raccoon Boy’s anger seriously. I stifle the urge to tell him that. I’m already in enough trouble.
“Stay out of this, Eddie,” Mom says. “In fact, go outside. All of you. I want to talk to your father.”
Outside, I plop my butt on the cushiony chaise lounge on the deck. Matty and Eddie walk down into the yard to shoot hoops. There’s a net mounted to our detached garage. It’s a good thing that in addition to being Super Dork, Matty is freaking excellent at basketball. He was the only sophomore on varsity. It no doubt saves him from many an ass kicking.
I close my eyes and try to pretend it’s a regular summer night. I’m kinda pissed because I’m realizing that blowing up your ex’s car and getting a restraining order really robs a person of the sympathy that is her due. I would never say this out loud, but I’m not even that sorry I did it. I’m still angry and hurt. I was in love with Joey, he was my first real boyfriend, and he cheated on me. Ever since we broke up, I’ve been harboring hope that he was telling the truth when he said that his one-night screwup meant nothing. So when I saw him with his new girl at Kevin’s party on Friday, it was like a bikini wax times ten. Even though I knew about her, I didn’t think they were dating. I didn’t think she could fit under his arm as well as I did. Seeing him with her . . . I came unglued.
But the really screwed-up part of all this is, I still love him. In my head, I had us married with two kids, living right here in town with the rest of my entire extended family. High school sweethearts. Happily ever after. The end. I know I’m supposed to have dreams about college and a career, but the truth is, I dream about my wedding day more. Neither of my parents went to college, and look at the life they built together. Sure, Eddie and I get on each other’s nerves sometimes, but for the most part, I’m pretty lucky. My family is close and there’s no question we love one another.
A car horn gives two quick beeps as it passes by the front of the house, waking me from my thoughts. I get up from the chaise and peek in through the screen door. My parents are locked in an exchange of intense whispers. I open the door and try to act super casual.
“I’m going upstairs,” I say. Neither parent acknowledges me. Cool. I make a point of running loudly upstairs before creeping silently back down, carrying my flip-flops. Luckily, the front door isn’t visible from the kitchen. Pony is asleep on the couch. I don’t want him waking up, running to the kitchen to grab his leash, and busting me. I turn the doorknob carefully and slip out, vowing to make it the last time I do something like this. For a while, at least.
I round the corner and see Lilliana’s car. She fist bumps me when I get in. “A restraining order. Nice.”
Lilliana and her younger cousin Marissa go to Sacred Heart with me. We despise plaid and have a shared, but silent, contempt for authority. We’ve never had detention, and we get along with mostly everyone. I’ve noticed that girls treat each other pretty good when there are no boys around to impress. All-girl schools still have their cliques, but my friends are the nonjoiners who feel too cool for student council and Spanish club. But the trouble I’m in doesn’t feel cool at all. I get light-headed every time I think about what people are saying about me. What’s going to happen when school starts again? Am I going to have one of those social outcast nicknames like “Psycho Torch Girl” or something?