nineteen - grounded

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Monday, November 5, 1984

This must have been the longest shower you've ever taken. But it was highly beneficial. After that, you decided to nap in the living room while waiting for Mona so that you were sure to hear the doorbell. You walk downstairs, wrapped in a blanket and ready to crash on the couch, when a sheet of paper on the dining table catches your attention. You walk over to it and pick it up, curious.

"Since the both of you had fun not coming home yesterday, we figured it would be enough for the whole week. You're grounded."

You had genuinely forgotten you had parents for a minute. They must have waited for you for dinner last night, and ended up sharing their meal in silence, as they usually do when Steve and you are around. Really, you could hardly see the difference your presence would have made. You arch an eyebrow, dropping the paper back on the table.

"Oh no," you sigh, unbothered. "We're grounded."

You would have to tell Steve when you would visit him at the hospital later today. They had said he should stay at least until dusk so that they could check whether there was something wrong with his head.

In your opinion, there had been something wrong with Steve ever since his birth, but nobody ever listened to you.

You would have stayed with him longer, but he insisted you went home to shower, constantly teasing you about your terrible smell. You had ended up giving in.

You jump on the couch, settling in comfortably and looking at the clock on the wall. You had about five to six hours before Mona arrived. This wasn't even close to enough, but it was something. You sigh contently as your aching muscles unwind against the soft fabric of your blanket.

Now you sleep.

___

"Shit!" You yell as the ringing of the doorbell jolts you awake. You feel like you've just closed your eyes and dozed off, but haven't quite slept. Yet when you roll off the couch and fall to the floor, you feel you've rested a bit.

Your hair is a mess, and so is the pajama you've absent-mindedly picked earlier, when you open the door to reveal a stone-faced Mona. She takes a look at you before smiling softly.

"You're a mess."

"Thanks," you grin back, gesturing her in. "Come in."

"I biked here. Hadn't gotten on a bike in a few months," she drops her bag next to the dining table, eyes falling on the note your parents had left you. "You didn't tell your parents you were at the hospital?"

"No," you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "Didn't want them to know Steve got into a fight."

"I thought he was done with that," she comments, opening the fridge to see what you had. "You know, ever since he stopped hanging out with Tommy."

"It wasn't his fault," you hop and sit on the counter, learning your side against the cabinet. "Max's broth- the new guy started it."

"Billy boy?"

"Billy boy," you echo with a giggle. "He's an asshole, honestly. But his sister's cool."

"He has a sister?" Mona gets a packet of bacon bits out of the fridge, showing it to you questioningly. You nod. Carbonara for lunch, it was.

"Max," you smile, remembering the sarcastic red head. "She's a badass. The boys' age."

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