High School Hangover Read Free Page A

grading curve, and now, on the last time we will ever be together in this school, he finally decides to make his move. I feel like I’m going to pass out and my brain can’t seem to form a cohesive response.
    “She’ll be there,” Mom answers for me, sneaking up behind Leo’s imposing build. Jack exhales loudly and stomps off.
    I just stand there nodding like a bobble head.
     
    *****
     
    Much to Grandpa’s dismay, we skipped the buffet. Mom is acting a bit insane and rushed us home to start primping me. She has been trying to push her designer clothes and shoes at me with the intensity of a drug dealer trying to get me hooked on crack.
    “I’ll look like a Vegas showgirl,” I say, eyeing the red, strapless gown she picked out for me. To my ultimate horror, I have just found out that we are exactly the same clothes and shoe size. It’s not that Mom doesn’t dress nice, actually, quite the opposite, but I’m more of a khakis and T-shirt kind of gal.
    “What about this one?” She asks excitedly, tossing the red dress on my bed and holding up an emerald green halter style dress that I don’t immediately hate. If I wore a jacket over it I would almost be fully clothed, unlike most of the other options she has presented me.
    “I don’t hate it,” I answer unenthusiastically. Mom’s face lights up like a Christmas tree as she delicately hangs the dress in my closet.
    “I have the perfect shoes to go with it,” she says, scurrying off to get them.
    I’m trying to remember how happy it is making Mom helping me get ready for tonight but her obsession with clothes and shoes has always been a sore spot for me. I know as Karen Mathers, real estate agent, she has to dress a certain way to impress her clients, but I’ve always assumed that Dad is the one footing all of the bills. Every time I see her drag home a new pair of shoes, I can’t help but think of Dad working more to pay for them.
    He is already a workaholic, but it still makes me feel bad for him. I’ve only seen him twice since he moved from Missouri to Tennessee. We text daily, but his job keeps him flying all over the world at a moment’s notice so it’s hard to coordinate actual visits. I keep trying to convince him to Skype so I can actually see him, but for some reason, he is totally against it. Having a technology based relationship is getting harder and harder, I’m starting to forget things about him.
    “Check these out,” Mom says, flashing a pair of black leather heels at me.
    “I’ll break my neck,” I say. Besides, I see the red soles on the bottom of the heels and realize how expensive they are. I may not subscribe to Vogue but I do know a few things about fashion. I don’t want my clumsy butt ruining an expensive pair of shoes that Dad paid for.
    “No, you won’t,” Mom assures me, and I don’t have it in me to put up a fight.
    “I’m going to do your hair and makeup, too,” she says excitedly, pulling on the ponytail I had my blah brown hair pulled back in for graduation.
    “Please don’t make me look like a freak,” I beg.
    “When I get done with you, Jack is going to be following you around like a love sick puppy all night,” she promises.
    “Leo is going to be following me around like a love sick puppy all night,” I correct her.
    “I like Jack better,” she states, while curling fat sections of my hair.
    I’m reminded of our not-so-distant battle of the wills over my choice in colleges and I decide it isn’t worth it to try and change her mind. She just doesn’t understand that I have to go to college in Tennessee. I’ve been with her for three years and now its Dad’s turn. Even Dad battled with me, insisting he wouldn’t be around much, but I’ll take whatever I can get. Besides, I’m going to be super busy myself, so it isn’t like I’ll be waiting around to see him.
    Mom hums contentedly while she rolls up the remaining sections of my hair. It’s been a long time since we’ve done anything