by Amy Clipston
Mom was silent, and I bit back a grin. Go, Dad!
“What are you saying, Chuck? Are you insinuating I don’t know how to raise our children?” She tapped the table. “I’ve always tried to do my best for our children.”
“I know you have.” Dad’s voice sounded exasperated. “And you’ve done an outstanding job. I just want you to take a step back and let Whitney make her own decisions. She’s going to be on her own when she leaves for college. You can’t guide her when she’s living in the dorms. We both know she has a good head on her shoulders. Give her some space and trust her.”
Mom paused and scowled. “Fine. I’ll back off.” She looked at me. “But you’re grounded for a month because of the way you talked to me earlier. You need to watch your tongue. You’ve become disrespectful lately.”
“A month?” My voice squeaked. “That’s unreasonable.”
“No, it’s not.” Mom rested her elbows on the table. I wondered if she realized she was breaking one of her etiquette rules. “You were totally out of line when you ran off earlier. I was still speaking to you. You didn’t tell me where you were going or when you’d be back. In fact, I was worried you’d gotten in a wreck.”
I glowered. Mom had a flare for the dramatic.
“I’ve also taken your phone.” She pulled it out of her pocket. “You’re not to use it for a month.”
I slouched in my chair. How would I say good night to Taylor? “You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can.” Mom stuck out her chin and raised her head high. “I pay the bill.”
I braced myself for her to ask me to hand her my keys, certain she was going to take my car next.
“Mom wanted to take your Jeep away, but I convinced her not to,” Dad said. “But you’re only to go to school and then come home. No social engagements at all.”
“What about youth group and Vanessa’s training sessions on Thursdays?” I asked.
“Forget them.” Mom wagged a finger at me, while my dad took a deep breath. “That Martinez family is part of why you’re in this trouble, so you need to distance yourself from them. That means Taylor too.”
“Fine.” Although I agreed to the punishment, I held on to the comfort of what Taylor said to me earlier—we still had school. “What about prom?”
My parents looked at each other, and then my father spoke. “I think you can go if you comply with your grounding.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“I want to see your attitude toward me improve,” Mom said.
“Okay.” My voice was small and meek. I knew I’d been out of line and disrespectful to Mom, and guilt nipped at me like an anxious puppy. Yet at the same time, I hoped Mom heeded Dad’s instructions about letting me choose my own friends.
“Now go to your room and finish your homework,” Mom barked orders at me like a drill sergeant. “I need to start cooking. My schedule is behind because of your little dramatic episode.”
I headed for the stairs wondering how my mom earned the right to call anyone else dramatic. My feet pounded up the stairs as if the weight of the world were on my shoulders. I hurried down the hallway to my room, flung myself onto my bed, and buried my face in the pillow. I wished Emily were still in the room down the hallway, and I could pour out my soul to her.
I rolled onto my side and wiped my wet eyes. I knew I had to get myself together. I wasn’t going to let my mother run my life or keep Taylor from me. I had to find a way to get my mother to accept Taylor and his family. I wanted my relationship with Taylor to be real and constant, not just a passing conversation at school. I knew I couldn’t make that happen on my own; I needed God’s help.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and began to pray:
Dear God, I need your help and your guidance. I’m changing, Lord, and I don’t know who I am anymore. I feel like I don’t fit in with friends I’ve known since elementary school. I miss Kristin and Tiffany, but I can’t relate to them anymore. I’m going through some confusing identity crisis, and nothing makes sense anymore. Well, the only thing that makes sense is Taylor. He’s become my strength and my comfort. I truly believe our friendship is a gift from you, and all things from you are good. Lord, I don’t know how to make my mother see the good in Taylor and his family. How can I show her that Taylor and his family are a good influence in my life? She doesn’t understand me, but I can’t figure out how to tell her I’ve changed. I’m still her daughter, but I’m just not the same old Whitney. I’m so confused, God. Please guide me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
The next afternoon I crossed over to the far end of the cafeteria, where Emily and her best friend, Chelsea Morris, were sitting.
“Hey, Whitney.” Emily gestured for me to come to her table. “I’m not used to seeing you in our neck of the woods.”
“Hi. I was wondering if I could join you today.”
“Of course you can.” Chelsea patted the seat beside her. “I thought I saw you eating in the courtyard with Taylor yesterday.”
I sat on the bench next to her. “I did eat with him yesterday, but he had to help a kid study for an exam today. This was the only time he could fit it in.”
“Oh,” Emily said, “it looks like things are going well with Taylor.”
“Yeah, you guys looked cozy yesterday.” Chelsea bumped my shoulder. “He’s hot.”
I unpacked a bottle of flavored water, a sandwich, carrot sticks, and low-fat string cheese. “He is hot. We’ve become really close friends.”
“Just friends?” Emily raised her eyebrows while lifting her sandwich.
“So far. I’m hoping it will change to a more-than-friends status, but I’m sort of waiting to see.” I glanced behind me and found Tiffany and Kristin watching me from their usual table, which was the table where I used to sit before I started questioning my friendship with them. Now I felt like a ship lost a sea. I had no idea where I belonged, but I felt comfortable with my cousin and Chelsea.
“What’s going on, Whitney?” Emily picked up on my furtive look immediately.
“A lot is going on,” I said as I picked up a carrot stick. “I was hoping to talk to you. Last night I was wishing you were still at my house.”
Emily tilted her head. “You sound like you really need a friend.”
“Yeah, I do.” I took a deep breath and then told Emily and Chelsea all about my falling out with the cheer team and my mother.
Emily and Chelsea listened with their eyes wide throughout most of my story.
“Wow,” Emily said when I was finished. “Your mom is really over the top. I knew she was controlling, but picking your friends goes beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t get what she has against Taylor.” Chelsea picked up a fry from her tray. “He’s such a nice kid, and his family is nice too. I’m certain your mom has met his mom at some point with all of the school events we’ve had through the years. Mrs. Martinez is a really cool lady.”
“I know she is, and our moms have met at church. I’ve talked to her, and she was really sweet. In fact, she’s easier to talk to than my mom.” I studied my uneaten carrot sticks. “I really care about Taylor, and I don’t want to lose him.”
Chelsea touched my arm. “What if you gave your mom a few days to calm down and then tried to talk to her again? Do you think she’d listen if you both had some time to cool off?”
Emily shook her head. “No, Chels, she won’t listen. Whitney’s mom is really hard core when it comes to being controlling. When I lived there, she was always after me about my clothes, my hair, everything.” She pointed a finger at me. “Whitney finally had to get her to back off.”
“Yeah, and I had to practically hit her over the head with a brick.” I gnawed my lower lip while considering my predicament.
“You said your dad seems to be more supportive, right?” Chelsea asked.
I nodded while chewing my sandwich. “He actually listens to me, and he usually understands my point of view. He actually told her to back off
, and she said she would. But I’m still grounded, and I’m not sure if I can even go to the prom.”
“Maybe you can let things calm down. Maybe she will back off, and maybe your dad will talk to her again.” Chelsea gave me a sad look. “Don’t give up hope. Things might get better after your mom has had a few days to think things through.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe she will calm down after we’ve had a few days to let things cool off.” I took another bite of my sandwich while thinking about what Chelsea had suggested. I hoped she was right.
I finished eating and said good-bye to Emily and Chelsea before crossing the cafeteria. Kristin looked up at me as I walked by, and I thought I caught a glimpse of regret in her eyes. My heart tugged at me, but I didn’t stop walking. I couldn’t stand to be around anyone who criticized my friendship with Taylor.
I rushed through the hallway to the library, hoping Taylor was still tutoring. I approached the small conference room and spotted Taylor talking to a boy, who was standing there holding his books.
Taylor’s eyes met mine, and he motioned for me to come in. He opened the door. “Hey, Whitney. Did you need help with calculus?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I was wondering if you had time to talk.”
“Sure, I do. Jared and I were just finishing up.” Taylor looked at the student. “I hope you do well on that test. Let me know if you need more help.”
“Thanks.” Jared gave me a strange look and then left the conference room.
Taylor closed the door behind him, leaned back on it, and pulled me into his arms. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”
I melted into his embrace and felt myself relax for the first time since I argued with my mother. I looped my arms around his neck and held on to him.
“Tell me what happened when you got home.” He murmured the words into my hair.
With my eyes closed and my head on his chest I told him about the conversation I had with my parents. He rubbed my back as he listened.
“Like I told you last night, your parents can’t take school away from you, so they won’t keep us apart.”
I looked up at him. “I know, but I feel so bad I can’t train Vanessa anymore. She’s going to be so disappointed.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’ve already taught her so much. I’m certain she’ll do great at tryouts.”
“Would you tell her why I can’t come over anymore?”
“Of course I will.” He pushed a strand of my hair back behind my ear, and I wished I could hear his thoughts. I wanted to know how he felt about me. Was he as happy as I was to be standing here alone together in the library conference room? Did he love me?
I noticed a movement through the glass behind Taylor and saw a librarian glaring in at us. I quickly took a step back and dropped my backpack onto the table.
“So, about that calculus homework. I was wondering if you would look at my answers.” I opened my backpack and fished through my notebook.
Taylor grinned at me. “You’ve learned quickly how to talk yourself out of any situation.”
I looked up at him. “You’re rubbing off on me, Taylor.”
chapter seventeen
Two weeks later I sat down across from Taylor at the library conference-room table. “You do realize I don’t need the tutoring session anymore, right?”
“I knew that a month ago, but I’ve been telling Mr. Turner you just don’t get it.”
I swatted his arm. “You told my math teacher I’m stupid?”
“No. I told him I needed more time with you.”
“Oh.” I rested my elbows on the table. “I miss our late-night texting chats.”
“I do too.” He took one of my hands in his. “It doesn’t feel right when I can’t tell you to have sweet dreams.”
“How’s Vanessa? I didn’t get to talk to her much at church on Sunday.”
“She’s fine.” He squeezed my hand. “How are things at home?”
“The same. Mom isn’t saying much to me. I tried to talk to my dad about lifting my grounding, but he says he has to respect my mom. I know he sees how ridiculous Mom is being, but I guess he gets tired of arguing with her too. How’s your mom?”
“She’s fine.” Taylor asked me about my classes, and we wound up discussing the upcoming unit test in calculus. Before I realized it, he was helping me study, and I was actually learning what I thought I’d already understood.
When the bell rang, I jumped. “Oh no. I was hoping we had more time.” I packed up my books. “You need to start tutoring me in another subject so we have more time together.”
He grinned. “How about Spanish?”
“That’s a great idea.” I laughed as I stood. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch?”
“That sounds good.”
I reached for the doorknob, and Taylor placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Whitney, wait. I wanted to ask you something.”
My thoughts raced with anticipation as I looked back at him. “What’s up?”
He paused and cupped his hand at the back of his neck. He looked either scared or nervous. “I was wondering,” he began and then paused. “Would you consider going to prom with me?”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “I would love to.”
“Cool.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “The thing is, I don’t want to go as friends.”
My heart thumped in my chest. “What are you saying, Taylor?”
“Well, I’m sort of asking you to be my girlfriend.”
I was almost certain he was blushing, and I loved it! “I thought you’d never ask,” I said.
“Is that a yes?” His expression was hopeful.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He dipped his chin and kissed me.
The bell rang again, and I pulled away from him as my pulse leaped into hyper-speed. “I’m late for Spanish! See you later!”
I heard him laughing as I ran through the library toward class. I didn’t even care that I was late for class. All that mattered was I was officially Taylor Martinez’s girlfriend!
I was still floating on air after class when I stopped in the girls’ restroom. I stood in front of the mirror and washed my hands while thinking about that last kiss. Oh, Taylor was so amazing! His kisses sent my heart soaring, and I’d never experienced anything remotely close to that when I kissed my ex-boyfriends, Brett or Chad. And Taylor asked me to prom! I was so excited I thought I might burst, but now I needed to come up with a plan to get my mother to let me go.
I grabbed a paper towel and dried my hands while looking at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes focused on the part in my hair, and I couldn’t stop staring at my dark roots. I was born with nearly white-blonde hair that turned golden when I was a toddler. However, it slowly darkened over time to a light brown.
My mother had started encouraging me to highlight my hair in middle school, and I soon fell into a pattern of having my hair highlighted, and eventually dyed all over, every six to eight weeks. I was tired of the routine and also tired of being phony and worrying too much about my appearance. I wanted to just be comfortable in my own skin for once without worrying about keeping my hair blonde.
The bathroom door opened with a loud squeak, and Emily stepped in. “Hey, Cuz. Fancy meeting you here. What’s up?”
“Hey.” I tossed the paper towel into the trash bin. “What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Nothing. I actually got a day off from work. Why?”
“Can you come over?”
Emily eyed me with suspicion. “Would that be okay considering your mother?”
“It would be perfect. Mom loves you, and I need a favor.”
Emily grinned. “This sounds sneaky.”
“Oh, it is.” I picked up my backpack from the floor. “I need to stop at the pharmacy, and then I need you to help me with something.”
“All right.” She handed me her camouflage colored bag. “Just give me a minute.”
&n
bsp; “Let’s see.” Emily sat on the edge of the counter in my bathroom an hour later while reading the back of the Nice ’n Easy hair-color box. “You’re supposed to leave this on for ten minutes. After that, you rinse it out and then use the conditioner.” She held up a tube.
“Okay.” I sat on the edge of the garden tub and held a towel around my shoulders as the dye tickled my scalp. “Wait until my mom sees this towel.” The peach bath towel, which matched the décor of the bathroom, was splattered with dark hair dye.
“No, wait until she sees your hair.” Emily clicked her tongue. “I still can’t believe you decided to dye your hair.”
“Do you think Taylor will like me as a brunette?”
“I think he would like you bald.” Emily studied me for a moment. “How are you going to convince your mom to let you go to the prom with him?”
“I haven’t figured that out.” I shifted my weight on the edge of the tub. “I assume you’re going to prom with Zander?”
“Yes.” Emily beamed. “I can’t wait to see him in his tux. He looked so awesome last year at his senior prom.”
“Yes, he did.” I smiled, remembering Emily and Zander posing for photos in the driveway next door before they left for prom. “What color dress are you going to get?”
“I don’t know.” Emily shrugged. “I haven’t talked to my dad about that yet. He wants me to save every cent of the money I’m making at the shop for college. I have to ask him if he’ll get me a dress. If not, then I’ll just wear the one I wore last year.”
An idea popped into my head, and I snapped my fingers. “I’ve got it! What if I ask my mom to take you and me dress shopping? She’ll be so thrilled the three of us are going out for a girls’ day that she’ll have to let me go to prom.”
Emily frowned. “You know I hate being your mom’s charity case.”