Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘Too fun. I’m keeping this.’ Of course, when I turned around, Mom was on the front lawn of our house with a betrayed expression on her face.

‘Looks like mealtime will be interesting at your house tonight,’ Digby said.

‘I told her I wasn’t talking to you anymore. I should go.’

‘If she gets on you, remember – there’s at least one other person in your life who she hates even more than she hates me.’

‘No, there isn’t.’ As I walked away, I thought he said something else about tonight, but I was focused on Mom’s rarely seen but greatly feared throbbing forehead vein. ‘Yeah … okay … see you later.’

‘What was that about?’ Mom was playing it cool.

‘Just … neighborhood stuff. Someone’s vandalizing Dumpsters,’ I said.

‘I see you met Zillah.’

‘Who?’

‘The high priestess of our neighborhood cult. Her name’s Zillah. Want to hear something weird? I mean, beyond the obvious?’ Mom said. ‘I’ve been watching them clean and so far, I’ve seen a dozen different girls.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t think they’re being trafficked or anything. They, like, play in the yard and stuff,’ I said. ‘Although … Digby pointed out they could have Stockholm syndrome.’

‘Digby. That boy’s trouble, Zoe. Trust me, I know trouble. I married trouble,’ Mom said.

Digby’s comment suddenly made sense. There was one other person in my life who bothered Mom more than Digby.

‘So, speaking of … what should I tell Dad?’

‘You still haven’t told him you got arrested?’

‘I’m going to tell him when he calls on Sunday.’

‘And since we’re talking about your father, he e-mailed me about Christmas. He and Shereene are taking you to her parents’ in Aspen. Do you have skis and boots, he wanted to know. I told him yes but we left them in our Switzerland house because we’re tired of flying that stuff back and forth every weekend,’ Mom said.

‘I don’t even really know her and now I have to hang out with her parents?’

‘I bet he’ll make you sit for a group portrait. Remember those? How he used to make us sit for those tacky Christmas notes?’

‘How excited do you think they’ll be when they realize I’m now officially in the system?’ I said. ‘In the system and in their Christmas photos.’

‘Oh, Zo, thank you. The bright side. But, seriously, will you be okay?’

I hadn’t really thought about it much, and now, horrifyingly, my eyes started to tear up. ‘Yeah, whatever … I don’t even listen to Shereene half the time.’

‘No?’

‘No. I zone out and make up shipper fanfic stuff. I just say uh-huh every few minutes.’

‘Really?’

‘Easy Bella/Harry Potter stuff when I’m feeling lazy or some Bella/Hermione when I need a challenge,’ I said. ‘What will you be doing this Christmas?’

‘About that.’ Mom sipped her wine and avoided eye contact. ‘So, yes … about that …’

‘Just say it, Mom.’

‘I’m seeing someone. And … I want us all to go out sometime but it’s early and I don’t want to jinx it but he’s a good man and I don’t want it to be weird for you …’

‘Mom. Please. Don’t ask my permission to date. That’s even weirder. Look, I don’t need to meet anyone until you decide he’s going to be my new daddy.’

‘I didn’t just screw you up, did I, Zo?’

‘Ugh, Mom …’

‘Because I don’t know what to tell you and what not to. I like us talking, but if I tell you everything … I don’t want to make you cynical.’

Make me cynical? Typical Mom. Always late to the party.





THIRTEEN


That night, I dreamed it was Water Safety Day. The girls lined up on one side of the pool and boys along the other. When the whistle blew, we were supposed to jump in and tread water. But suddenly, everyone was staring at me, mocking me. My swimsuit was totally see-through. Digby was there, wearing his usual black suit. His were the only words I could make out. He pointed at my privates, shaking his head, and said, ‘That’s the ugliest thing I ever saw.’

I woke up, feeling sick. I thought I heard a noise, but it stopped. I rolled over to go back to sleep.

A voice cut through the dark. ‘Whoa … until I saw this.’

I tweaked my back sitting up so fast. How I controlled myself from screaming, I don’t know. I was terrified. My toes buzzed with adrenaline. I turned on the light and there was Digby, standing with a huge pile of my stuff on the floor in front of him. He had my five-fingered running shoes in his hand.

‘What the yuck are these?’ he said.

‘Uh … I was briefly into running … What are you doing here?’ I said.

‘And ugliness propelled you down the track?’

‘Shut up.’

‘And what’s this?’

‘My ewer?’

‘Oh, so when pitchers are super fug, they’re called ewers? Why do you have this thing?’