Rockin' Romeo and Jammin' Juliet

All You Need Is A Banana, Vaseline, And Consent

Chapter 15: All You Need Is A Banana, Vaseline, And Consent

((Playlist: Sleep by My Chemical Romance))

Sophie's parents may have been gullible when it came to feigning illness or going to 'sleepovers,' but they weren't stupid.

"Sophie, what are these?" Sophie's mother called from upstairs. It was the morning after Sophie had gone to Jackson's house to play with his Oujia Board (which was not a euphemism).

"What is what?" Sophie called through a mouthful of cereal. Her mother gallumphed down the stairs and into the kitchen. In her hands were Sophie's drumsticks.

Sophie's heart skipped a beat. Her mother eyed the sticks with a baffled, slightly grossed-out expression. "What are these? Why do you have drumsticks?"

Sophie's eyes flickered from the sticks to her mother. "They're... um." She shoved a massive spoonful of cereal into her mouth to stall.

After thirty solid seconds of meticulous over-chewing, she swallowed.  "They're drumsticks," she finally said.

"I know. But where did they come from?"

"Jonah got them for me. From a concert he went to," she added.

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "The only concerts Jonah goes to are the ones he performs in for concert band or the philharmonic. If he had wanted to get you a souvenir from one of his concerts, he would have given you an oboe reed or something. Not these dingy bits of wood."

"Maybe. But Jonah is more creative than getting me mere oboe reeds, you see," Sophie procured a small smile.

"Don't sass me, young lady. You've been acting weird lately; I want to know where these came from."

"I told you," Sophie sighed, exasperated. "Jonah got them for me."

Her mother's scowl deepened, frown lines crinkling her forehead. "Sophia Marie Evans, if you do not tell me where these drum sticks are from, I am going to ground you from now until you go college."

Sophie's heart dropped - her mother had whipped out the dreaded 'middle name' card. She was serious about this. She was about to craft up a better lie when Jackson's voice floated to mind.

Don't have to lie to your parents a lot. I would like to actually meet them at some point.

She sighed. Maybe it was time to start being honest. At least, a little bit.

"Okay, okay. You know that project I said I was working on for my Music Theory class?" she asked.

Her mother nodded, starting to seem more perplexed than angry.

"You know the boy I'm working with?"

She shook her head. "Who?"

"Jackson Laine," she said, hoping his name didn't ring any bells for her. "Anyway, we've been writing these songs for our project, and we kind of have to play them. He's on guitar, and he's teaching me how to drum. So, he gave me those drum sticks to practice with."

"But why drums? Why not learn a more sophisticated instrument, like cello?"

"I don't have time to learn cello- we have to present our songs soon."

Her mother sighed. "All right. But if you really want to become a great musician-"

"Mom, it's fine-"

"-We could get a used violin or flute or something-"

"-I don't want to play either of those."

Her mother rambled on, clearly not listening. "-And you could take that class at school that Jonah takes-"