It's My Life - Melody Carlson [6]
Thursday, July 19 (whose life is this anyway?)
Okay, I'm putting in a hard week at work. I even chauffeur my little brother and three of his buds to a baseball game this evening so my parents can go out. I'm living a responsible and mature sort of life, but then I want to go and spend the weekend with my friend, and my parents come totally unglued. What is it with parents anyway? They want you to act like an adult, but then they refuse to treat you like one.
“This is so sudden,” says my mom. “We don't even know Andrea's father.” As if the man might be an ax murderer or child molester or something equally despicable. You see, Andrea's parents are divorced; her mom's remarried to a nice guy, and her dad's still single. But he has a girlfriend (or two, according to Andrea, which I did not tell my parents–no need to add fuel to their little fire). Anyway, her dad has this really cool cabin on a lake with a dock and a ski boat and everything. And he invited Andrea to come up this weekend and to bring along a friend, and she called me.
“How do we know who's going to be up there?” asks my dad suspiciously.
“Who do you think will be up there?” I toss back.
“He might have friends. You know, it might be a party weekend, with who knows what going on–”
“Why would a dad invite his daughter and her friend if he wanted to party, as you put it? I mean, think about it, Dad. Is that what you would do?” Thankfully, this seems to fluster him a little. And it's not that I want to be disrespectful exactly. I mean, really, I don't. But I want to go, and spending the weekend at the lake sounds so great!
“But what if something happens? You say there's no phone,” says my ever–practical mother.
“If you're that worried, you could just let me take your cell phone,” I wisely counter. “Really, Mom and Dad, I've been trying to show you how mature I can be and now you're treating me like a baby.” I eye Benjamin who, like a dog, is licking the remains of death–by–chocolate ice cream from his bowl. And to my surprise, this kid actually speaks up in my defense, probably trying to show some appreciation for me driving him and his friends around, which he should considering how Ryan Bender spilled a whole bag of popcorn all over the backseat of my car.
“Yeah, you guys should lighten up on Cate,” he says as cool as can be, not realizing he has a brown smudge of ice cream on the tip of his nose. “She's been a good ol’ gal lately.”
My dad laughs at this, but then seems to consider the advice of this little male pubescent. “Yeah, maybe you're right, bud. Maybe we should let up on the ol’ gal.”
And I bite my tongue, waiting for the consensus.
“But what about–” my mom starts but thankfully never finishes.
“She can take my cell phone,” offers my dad, taking control of the decision. “She's got her own car, and if for some reason something doesn't seem right, I'm sure she'll just phone us, climb in her car, and come straight home. Right, Catie?”
“Of course,” I assure them. “It's not like I'm stupid or looking for trouble. And just for the record, I'm not the least bit worried. Besides, you've met Andrea's mom. Does she seem the sort of woman who would send her daughter and friend off into some bad situation?”
“I guess not.” My mom seems slightly more at ease now. “It's just that we love you, sweetie.” Then we all hug, and it's settled. Cool, I get to go!
But what bugs me is that we had to go through such turmoil just to get here. I don't see why they can't just trust my judgment about these things. I mean, some kids my age are already living out on their own. And I've been being all responsible