He's Bad News ✔

Chapter 11 - The Red Dinner

CHAPTER 11 - THE RED DINNER

  After the whole 'Ryder fiasco' the last thing I wanted to do was have dinner with the Anderson's. The Anderson's were boring, asked too many questions and didn't let you eat in silence. What happened to 'don't talk while eating' "rule" or whatever that was.

Unfortunately I couldn't break the subsection 3 of rule 7; "All the members of the Anderson family have to eat dinner together". It wasn't exactly a rule -not typically- but my parents thought it was really important and as serious as committing a crime or something.

How these people were my parents I'll never know.

Anderson's dinner included a 'lovely family atmosphere', great food and my mom asking endless questions like; "Were you a good girl?" "Did you impress your teachers?" "Did you take any notes?" in which I always answered "Yes mother" when what I would really like to say to her was; "Jeez mom if only I was seventeen and knew what my damn priorities were!" But I didn't.

Seth's situation was easier. Since my mother thought she wasn't the appropriate person to communicate with a teenage boy, let my dad handle Seth. Their conversation usually went like this;

Dad: Were you a good fella today?

Seth: Yap.

And that was it! What happened to human equality!?

"Oh Chloe!" said my mother after a couple of minutes of surprisingly peaceful quiet, totally ruining it "I forgot to tell you. I took the intrepidity to organize you your everyday schedule. Now that you are junior in High School you have a lot of responsibilities so I thought of help you."

I let my fork down and took the pink journal she was holding and opened it. I scanned it all warily, word by word, looked up my mother and then scanned it again to see if I hadn't read something correctly.

I surely must had.

"But mom... all the days are full .The only free time I have is before I go to bed." Swimming, tennis, piano? Why would she add all these without asking me first. Even on the weekends!

"So?"

"So... when will I go out?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Go out?" She asked surprised that I had just dare to ask that.

"Y-yeah but not like in the m-mornings w-when I h-have all this r-responsibilities, the night-" I stopped myself immediately knowing I had just step into a dangerous ground. I had hit a very, very soft spot.

Just because I sneaked out the nights that didn't mean I would somehow magically now went out, with my friends. My parents didn't know I had go to parties or that I had stay up all night, something that I wanted to keep that way.

"The nights?" She gasped out like I had just said I murder someone. "Honey, go where at nights? Only tramps go out at nights!"

Before I could speak she interrupted me. Again;

"You are an Anderson. Anderson's don't go out partying. We fill our minds with knowledge and try to become better human and Christians. 'Partying' is hell..."

I stood frozen and speechless letting her go on and on saying how night was full of 'bad people' that only wanted to have 'intercourse' and 'bad things' with you. I tried to keep up with her insane thoughts, I really did but it was impossible. Besides the fact that she had just went all 'religious' on me... did she really believed everything she said?

I mean what did she do when she was in my age? The same things! And maybe even worse! She always went on and on about my generation going down the drain and having no idea what was happening to the world like we were stupid and blind when I knew by my grandmother that my mom wasn't exactly a 'saint'.

But even if she was why did I have to suffer her 'teenage issues"? I was a teenager for god's sake! I couldn't care less about school or 'becoming better person and Christian'. Actually I did... but that wasn't the point.

The point was that I wanted to enjoy my teenage years. At least what was left of them.

By the time I finished dinner and my mother finally stopped talking we were allowed to return to our rooms. For some reason I was really angry, so, so angry. I felt like I wanted to punch or break something. Maybe it was because my hormones were going crazy or maybe it was because I indeed was experiencing my PMS. Whatever the reason was, I was angry.

And no matter how many times I closed my eyes and took deep breaths to calm down I couldn't get rid of my mom's obsessive stupid monologue off my head. I had to talk to someone. Or else I wouldn't calm down.

I thought about calling Annabelle but I knew she wasn't the right person. She would comfort me, tell me everything was going to be alright but that was it. I wanted, needed something more.

Unconsciously, in my adrenaline rush, my fingers started typing a very familiar number. I didn't even stop myself from pressing 'call' because there was no doubt; only one person could take my mind of my worries.

"Hello?" answered Ryder in the other line.

"Hey, it's me." I sighed "Can we meet?"