Does she not get how creepy that is?
“What?” I whisper, tucking my phone under my leg so she can’t see what I just wrote to Bex.
“Hey, uh… so… I was talking to Dad.”
Oh shit, here we go.
“And he was telling me some guy dropped you home from school today.”
“Yep.” I nod, wishing like anything that Dad hadn’t been standing in the kitchen in that exact moment. Talk about the universe working against me.
“Who was he?”
I swallow. Do I really have to say?
“He’s a guy from school.”
“Okay.” Mom nods, so obviously trying to play it cool. But she’s failing. “And he was driving?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Legally?”
“Mom!” I whip a horrified look at her.
“What?” She smiles. “I’m just trying to work out how old he is.”
“Why? So you can go on about how I’m just a freshman and I’m not old enough to have a life yet?”
“I never said that.” Mom shakes her head, butyeah right! She was about to say it. And now she’s going to tell me not to put words in her mouth. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
See!
It’s always the same with these two. One of them gets upset, and then the other backs them up without ever siding with us kids. They’re an unbreakable team. A force to be reckoned with, and I’m so fucking sick of it!
“You are growing into a beautiful young lady.” Mom touches my arm. “And we want to make sure you’re being safe and making smart decisions.”
I huff, angling my body away from her.
“I’m not trying to upset you, Zo. I just want to have a conversation. Tell me about this guy. Why do you like him so much?”
Great. Now she’s trying to get all chummy with me. Do the smiley, “I remember what being a teenager was like” thing and then nicely tell me that I’m playing with fire and to stay away from him!
Well, it’s not gonna work, Mom! Curry likes me, and there’s nothing you can say or do that will make me stay away or stop kissing him!
An announcement comes over the airport speakers before I can answer her, and I breathe a sigh of relief when our flight is called and we can start boarding the plane. I jump up, distracting myself with my boarding pass and carry-on luggage.
Mom does the same while Dad grabs Olly’s hand before he can cut the line.
We move toward the onboarding doors, and Mom sidles up beside me.
“At least tell me his name,” she whispers.
I roll my eyes and mutter, “Curry.”
“Curry?” Her eyebrows wrinkle, and I go on the immediate defensive when she fights a smile and asks, “Like butter chicken curry?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Yes, Curry. It’s a cool name, okay? Everything about him is cool.”
