Party Read Free Page A

ago, I walked into the living room. There was a baseball game on. (There’s always a game on, of some sort.) I stood in the doorway and said, and I quote, “I’m going to drive on over to Ashley’s now.” Who lives like three miles away.
    My mother, deeply into her daily crossword puzzle, said: “Uh-huh …”
    My father said: ___________
    Which is not unusual for either one of them. Unless I have spontaneously burst into flame, which only happened that once (just kidding!), I blend into the beige walls of my house as far as they are concerned.
Keep those grades up!
and
Don’t you get pregnant!
are my only rules as far as I know. Outside of those, I do what I want. Which is cool. For the most part.
    Case in point: Mom has no problem with me going to a party, or giving me money. So she’s like all awesome, right?
    Sure.
    Since my mom had acknowledged my plan, I walked out to the old blue Super Beetle, got in, started her up, and began driving (slowly) over to Ashley’s house to start getting ready for the party. It was already eight o’clock, and the party was supposed to have started at seven.
    No kidding—two minutes later, my cell rang.
    It was Mom.
    “Where are you!” she screamed.
    I seriously could not stop myself from laughing. I laughed out loud, and it was one of those laughs that starts with a sound like you’re spitting milk out.
Pppppppth, buh ha ha ha!
    Something like that.
    I’m amazed she even noticed I was gone. Before I got a chance to tell her, “Uh, I’m like a block away,” she screamed, “Get
back
here with that
car
right
now
!”
    For a second, I thought something must be wrong with the car and Dad didn’t tell me. It’s not like I have to drive on the 101 to get to Ashley’s or the party, but maybe the brakes are worn or something. Funny, you’d think he would have mentioned something like that, right?
    So I said, “Uh, okay,” and turned the car around. I wasn’t laughing anymore. I got back to the house and went inside.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked as I went into the living room. Again.
    “You put those keys on the table,” my dad said. His eyes didn’t leave the TV screen.
    I set the keys down, functioning on autopilot because I swear to god, I was
so
confused.
    “Ohhhh-kay,” I said, and waited.
    He didn’t say anything. I had no idea where my mother was.
    “So,” I said, “what is it? What’s wrong with the car?”
    My dad: _____________
    I swear, you know? Say something!
    I tried again. “Dad …?”
    And that’s when my mom came in. “There you are!” she shouted, and—again, I am unable to help myself—I started laughing.
    “Glad you noticed!” I said back. “What’s going on?”
    “We told you not to take that car anywhere until you ask us first!” Mom declared.
    I felt something in my head make a sound like this:
DOINK!
    Huh?
    So I said, “Huh?”
    “Don’t grunt, Morrigan, you sound like a caveman,” Mom said, and plopped down on the couch again and picked up her crossword puzzle. Like,
This conversation is over
.
    Which, I assure you, it was not.
    “Wait, wait, wait,” I said, and held up my hands. (And god, that television was on so
loud
! And they complain about my music, you know?) “I stood here like five minutes ago and told you I was going to Ashley’s.”
    And here … here is where it all went south of heaven.
    My mother said, and I quote: “You said no such thing.”
    Well.
Now
it’s on.
    “Mom!
I stood right here and said ‘I am driving to Ashley’s,’ to which you responded, and I quote, ‘Uh’ and ‘Huh.’ Which,” I added, because I get a bit sarcastic when I get pissed, “when spoken together, is apparently
not
a grunt.”
    I didn’t hide a grin. That was pretty good, if I said so myself.
    Mom didn’t agree. “Don’t be smart, Morrigan.”
    I felt my eyebrows shoot up past my bangs. “It’s what you said!”
    “You don’t raise your voice to us, young lady!” Dad snapped. And his eyes, I swear to god,