Rules of a Rebel

Chapter 3: No Sugar

Rules #19: No Sugar

Rebellion and sweets don't really mix well together.

-()-

Dear Ms. Peyton Monroe,

After reviewing your interview and resume, we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to work at Lily's Pet House, Animal Shelter. Your job will officially begin on September 1st, Tuesday. At this date, one of our assistants will train you on the basic necessities of our deal. For further information, email us at...

Somebody knocks on the door.

I slam my laptop shut before the door can open. But, it's only mom. She saunters in, even though I didn't give her permission. This is the first time she's visited me in weeks so I know it's not just a regular visit to catch-up.

As usual, mom doesn't talk to me straight me. Instead, she walks around my room, glancing at my wall, which, besides two pictures, is complete bare. Then, she frowns at my desk, which is cluttered with homework and college applications. After shaking her head at my closet, which still has a bunch of unpacked boxes, she comes to a stop besides her bed.

"It's been two months," Mom reminds me, giving my teddy-bear, Charlotte, the evil eye. I tuck her behind my back. "Don't you think you should clean up a little?"

"I'm getting to it. I've just been, uh, busy."

"Do you need any help?"

I shake my head.

Mom presses her lips together. She hates it when I don't make an effort to start a conversation, but lately, I have no idea what to say. It seems that whatever I do, it leads to an argument.

"I got a job," I blurt out.

"That's great! It's glad to see things are working out for you. How's school?"

"Same as always."

"Yeah? Did you make any new friends?"

"Some," I lie, shrugging.

She gives me a look.

"It's only been two weeks," I protest, although we both know that's not the problem. Unlike everybody else in my family, I've never had a talent with people. Or anything in general.

"That's no excuse," Mom scolds. "Melody's made tons of friends already."

"Well, I'm not Melody."

We glare at each other for a moment. Finally, I look down at my bed, scowling down at my beloved teddy bear, Charlotte. Her fur is matted and worn from many years of use. She watches with sad, steady, brown eyes.

Mom sighs. "Alright, I'll let the issue go just this once. Besides, that's not what I came here to talk to you about. First, have you decided what to wear to the barbecue yet?"

"What barbecue?" I look up.

"Didn't Melody tell you?" She frowns when I shake my head. "Oh. Well, every month or so, the neighborhood hosts a party or so at somebody's house. This month, it's at the Raine house and they chose a 50s theme."

"Gross," I scrunch up my nose. "Whose horrible idea was that?"

"Mrs. Raine's, but-"

"Why would she choose that decade out of all things? Poodle skirts weren't the only thing that was happening back then, you know. There was black and white segregation, women's discrimination, and don't even get me started on all the animal testing-"