Especially since this is the first time she’s spoken to me in a while.
All of our arguments end the same way, with her holding a grudge until I do something that makes her smile. While most moms get upset over bad grades, drug experimentation, or serious shit that actually affects a life, my mom gets upset over my inability to like the things that really matter in life. Things like wanting to be homecoming queen, having a great high school social status, and dating.
Two hundred and fifty-five days...
Before she can ask me to do anything, I run up the stairs to my room and shut the door. I plop onto my bed and groan as I take in the pale and bleak ugliness that surrounds me.
If anyone else saw my room right now, they’d think I was trying to imitate a cell in a psych ward. My walls are covered in a near-colorless eggshell color, my bed spread is taupe, and all of the furniture is the color of coffee cream.
If that’s not horrible enough, the only pictures that hang on the wall are those of gray and brown rocks. Oh, and sand. Lots and lots of sand.
I’ve been begging my mom to let me paint and redesign this ugliness since I was seven years old, but “neutral colors are a necessary stimulus for the female brain” according to her ridiculous psychology studies. And besides, to her, my art is a hobby that’s distracting me from the things that are truly important in life. Popularity.
I pull the covers over my head and feel my phone buzzing. A text from Dean.
DEAN: Hey. Is red your favorite color?
MIA: Hey. Just because we had a good day today does not mean you’re allowed to text me outside of tutoring. Goodnight.
DEAN: LOL. Answer the question, Mia. Is it red?
MIA: No, red is not my favorite color. Stop texting me.
DEAN: Is it blue?
MIA: Yes, it’s blue. Goodnight.
DEAN: Interesting. I only thought it was red because you always wear red bras, and you clearly have quite the collection...The one with the polka dots, the one with the lace, the one with the flowers, and today’s silk one. The best one yet, in my opinion. Goodnight :-)
I turn my phone off, my cheeks on fire.
Chapter 3
MIA
Something is definitely wrong with me. After only a few weeks of tutoring sessions with Dean, I’m actually looking forward to seeing him today. I’m looking forward to having another good conversation and seeing what he thought of the indie rock CD I gave him. (Okay, and I’m also looking forward to being close enough to smell his seductive cologne and get an up close glimpse of his smile that I secretly like.)
During school hours, we still exist in two completely different worlds, but when we’re together and alone, we get along better than I could’ve ever imagined and I haven’t had the desire to thrash him once.
Well, so far...
Hanging around him has also quite a numbing effect on my home-life. I can get through a whole dinner with my mother without wanting to scream, and for some reason, if I come home a few hours later than normal, if I tell her that I’ve been with Dean, she doesn’t mind at all.
Only one thing has me questioning me and Dean’s current arrangement: He never wants to go home. Like, ever. He’s always looking to extend our time together somehow with more conversation or more homework, and although I want to believe that he enjoys hanging out with me as much as I enjoy hanging out with him, I can’t help but think that there might be something darker beneath the surface...
Taking a seat in AP Chemistry, I pull out my books and notice a text from Autumn.
AUTUMN: Sooooo, I’m in crisis mode and I’m pulling the ‘BFF Trump Card’ ASAP!
ME: The what?
AUTUMN: The BFF Trump Card. That you-cannot-say-no-to-whatever-I-request but only just this one time type of card. Say yes!
ME: You pulled ten of those last month, Autumn.
AUTUMN: I pulled NINE. That last one didn’t count. Anyway, say yes. I’m about to take a pop quiz in Bio.
ME: Tell me what it is first.
AUTUMN: Just say yes. (Oh, and is it the nucleus or the mitochondria that stores the cell’s information?)
ME: Does it involve a party? (The mitochondria)
AUTUMN: Never. Stop being difficult! (DNA helix was discovered by...?)
ME: Does it involve being a third-wheel with you and Jacob? (Crick and Watson)
AUTUMN: Shockingly, no. We’re currently fighting :-( (Can you just take this damn quiz for me? WTF...There are like fifty questions on this thing. This isn’t a QUIZ! It’s a TEST!)
I laugh, figuring whatever it is she wants to do can’t be too bad.
ME: Yes. Now, what is the trump card for?
AUTUMN: You have to be my wing woman at the pep rally tonight! Okay gotta go for real this time! I’ll pick you up at seven!
What the hell... Ugh...
She knows I don’t enjoy going to those, that I’m going to fight her to the very last minute about going with her tonight. I start texting a response, but I hear a familiar deep laugh next to me.