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Sixteen - Prom Night

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Study. Sleep. Go for an exam. Study. Sleep.

Can life be any more crappy?

By my last exam on Friday, I would gladly set all my books on fire and never look at them again. I probably won't even have to, considering as I just appeared in my final exam for my final year in high school. Does this make me a big girl? A grown-up?

Hell, yes, it does. And that's why I tell my dad -- instead of asking him -- that I'm going to the prom with Xavier tomorrow.

He's happy. 

Honestly, sometimes I think my dad has a crush on Xavier too. Lucky my crush isn't gay, though, or I might have been attending his wedding to my dad.

Talk about creepy.

"Haley!" dad calls from outside my door on Friday evening.

I slip on my own feet, stifling a loud squeal and landing on the floor. It's not that dad's voice freaked me out. It's just that I'm locked in my room, trying on different dresses, and right now, I'm wearing nothing but my undies.

"Just a minute!" I pant, hurriedly pulling on random clothes. And by 'random', I mean a pink tank-top, blue yoga pants, a yellow skirt, and white jacket to cover up my multi-colored fiasco, before pulling open the door to show my dad my red face.

Thankfully, he doesn't comment, raising his eyebrows and holding a phone out towards me.

"Your mom wants to talk to you," he says, resisting a smile.

Mom has been trying to reach me for the past few days and I have ignored both her calls and her messages in the hope that she would realize I don't want to talk to her. She didn't give up though, persistently calling me and leaving messages saying I should call her back. 

I take the phone from dad, and he gives me a nod before descending the stairs. Reluctantly, I return to my bed and put the phone to my ear.

Is it strange that I don't want to hear what my mom has to say? How can I, knowing she left me for her own selfish desires? My dad has always told me she loved me, but I know that's not the truth. Dad says she wanted to take me along and he didn't let me go, but I know what really happened. She never thought about me, not once.

"Hello?" I finally speak into the silence, tossing the clutter of clothes off my bed so I have space to sit.

"Haley, I've been calling you all week. Where have you been?" she exclaims into the phone.

I purse my lips, not wanting to answer.

"Been busy," I answer begrudgingly, inwardly glaring at my dad who is forcing me to talk to her.

"Yes, your father told me you were having your finals. How did they go? Will you be going to Stanford?" 

'What do you care?' I want to ask.

"Fine," I actually grumble.

"You know, I've been thinking, if you actually move to California, so will I," she says. "George has a house near Stanford, and then we'll be able to spend every weekend together. Shopping!" she squeals like a creep.

"I don't want that," I say before I can stop myself.

"Wh ... what did you say, Haley?" mom asks.

"Nothing," I mumble, remembering all my dad's sermons about how silence is better than bad words.  Maybe that's why Xavier is always quiet, because he doesn't want to end up cussing everyone out.

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