I didn’t want Cal to pick me up at my house. I didn’t want my father to see. I didn’t want Ryan rolling down the sidewalk on his skateboard to see. I wasn’t even sure why I was going on this date. After my last afternoon with Ryan, I thought my entire world shifted. My entire purpose. I no longer cared about revenge and guilt and victims. I cared about being with a boy who was nice to me, who treated me like I was the most important person in his life. A boy who made me laugh, talk my head off, say silly embarrassing things, come like an exploding star.
I even thought I could paint again. I had not picked up my brush since trying to paint the fall leaves. But I thought I could do it now. And I thought it could be good enough to hang in a gallery and fetch thousands of dollars. I decided this weekend to spend time with Ryan, to fill up on his goodness, and to paint.
I wanted to meet Cal at the bowling alley. I told him about the change of plans at school, and I waited until the end of the day to do it. He wasn’t happy about it. He told me that guys were supposed to pick up girls for dates.
“Really?” I asked. “Where’d you hear that?”
“It’s common knowledge, Brooke,” Cal said, completely missing my sarcasm. “I can’t even take this date seriously if you don’t let me pick you up.”
“I’d just rather make it more casual the first time,” I said, feeling myself getting backed into a corner. He was insistent.
“No,” Cal replied. “Look, I’m not a text guy or a ‘Go Dutch’ guy. I’m not an ‘I’ll just meet you there’ kind of guy. I’m old school, Brooke. I pick up a girl. I take her out. I pay for it. And then I call her the next day, not text her. I call her to see if she had a nice time.”
Suddenly he was Prince Charming.
I fidgeted uncomfortably.
“Stop fidgeting, Brooke,” Cal said. “You’re a grown-ass woman. Start acting like one and let me pick you up.”
“I am acting like one!” I cried.
“Good. Then I’ll be at your door at seven.”
I stood in the living room peering out the window every three seconds. As soon as I saw Cal pull up, I’d sprint out the door before he could make it up the walkway. I should have just explained to Dad that I was going on a few dates with different boys to see which one “fit.” That way he wouldn’t wonder about Ryan. But it sounded like something a college girl would do. High schoolers didn’t date around. We were in committed relationships, even if they only lasted two weeks at a time.
“Brooke! Get in here!” Dad called from the kitchen.
“I’m waiting for my ride, Dad,” I called back.
“Get in here now!”
I hadn’t heard my dad talk to me like that since I let our dog go outside to potty without a leash. I was ten years old. I thought Poppy could handle it. She was always so good. Well-behaved. Plus, I was in the middle of painting my fingernails. I couldn’t run the risk of messing up my nails by putting on her leash. Well, she ran away and never came back. Dad lit into me and told me I could forget about ever having another dog because I was too self-absorbed. I cried for a week.
I was reluctant to leave the window, but I knew better than to keep Dad waiting. I sprinted to the kitchen.
“Yes, Daddy?” I asked.
“Don’t ‘Daddy’ me,” he snapped. “What the hell is this?” he asked holding up a bill.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“It’s our cell phone bill,” he said. “Now, do you want to tell me what all these charges are about?”
“What charges?”
“God, Brooklyn! This is a five hundred dollar bill! Who the hell have you been talking to? How much data can you possibly use in a month? You got your GPS permanently on? Are you texting while you drive? Surfing the web in class?”
“Dad, take it easy,” I said. “I barely use my phone.” It was the dumbest lie I’d ever told, and the bill proved it.
Dad looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Give it to me.”
“Huh?”
“Your phone, Brooke. Give it to me.”
“Dad!”
“I’m serious. You’re done. No phone for . . . a month!”
“What the fu—”
“Go ahead and say it,” Dad warned. “I’ll make it a year.”
“Dad!! You’re being unreasonable! And anyway, I have a date tonight. I need it to get in touch with you!”
“A date? With Ryan? I don’t think so. You talk to him enough on the phone,” he said, waving the bill in my face.
“It’s not with Ryan,” I said. “It’s with some other dude.”
“What happened to Ryan? I thought you were in love with Ryan,” Dad said.
“I am so not discussing this with you!”
“Well guess what, missy? I’m the parent here. I get to know what you’re doing, where you’re going, and who you’re going with. So I guess you so will be discussing this with me. Now hand it over.”
“No!”
“Brooklyn, hand over that damn phone.”
“Dad, I cannot survive without my cell phone. Please. You don’t understand. I need it.”
“What the hell is happening to kids these days?” Dad lamented.
“Dad, please. I’ll pay the cell phone bill. I’ve got enough to pay it. More than enough,” I pleaded.
Dad looked at me and sighed. “I don’t want you to use all your money to pay this bill, Brooke. I want you to be responsible. Ever heard of it? Responsibility?”
I nodded my head vigorously.
“I want you to save your money,” Dad continued. “And stop texting so damn much.”
“Do I really text that much?” I asked, grabbing the bill and scanning the charges.