I’m writing this right now in my room where there is nothing but my bed, my dresser, my computer, my clarinet, my phone, and this journal. My parents took every other thing out of my room this afternoon and put it god knows where. I’m living in a cell.
Also I’ve texted Carson ten times and he hasn’t texted me back. If he’s in jail right now because of my dad, I’m seriously going to kill someone. I’m so angry. I honestly think I could punch my father in the face. I really do. I never thought I could be this angry at him. This is my dad. He’s always on my side. But whatever. That’s over now, I guess.
At least Jess is okay. We’ve texted some, and she’s grounded, too. Parents are so predictable. But anyway, back to the insanity.
Here’s how it all went down. This morning both my parents walked into my room fully showered and dressed at nine a.m. and told me to get up and get dressed. We were meeting with the substance-abuse therapist.
I told them, Great. Have fun. And pulled my blankets over my head.
My dad ripped them off of me. He said, very sternly, that he and my mother loved me and they weren’t going to watch me destroy my life. Apparently they were going to watch me get dressed, though, because my mom stood there while I got completely naked and put on a new underwear and bra. Then I yanked a T-shirt and sweatpants on, and shoved my feet into flip-flops. The whole time, I kept waiting for her to tell me this was a joke. Tell me not to worry about it. That they still trusted me. But it never happened. They were really going through with this. They were really going to drag me to some stranger to talk about how I, what? Liked to have fun? I’m seventeen. I’m supposed to be having fun, right?
My heart was pounding as I looked at my mom. Do we really have to do this? I asked. Please? I won’t sneak out again, I swear.
Her mouth was so thin it was practically not even there. She told me not to try begging my way out of this, which just pissed me off. She always caved when Ashley got all cute and weepy and pleading. I went into the bathroom and slammed the door.
What’re you doing? my mother demanded.
God! Can’t I even pee?
I heard her huff, and then she said I had two minutes. I peed and then realized my mouth tasted like ass, probably from all the pot and molly and junk food I’d ingested the past couple of days. I opened the medicine cabinet to get my toothpaste, and the Midol bottle stared at me. I took it out, and opened it up. The hit of molly was nestled in there all safe and sound. I closed the cabinet again, and stared at myself in the mirror. I’d never done molly outside of a party situation. I’d never done it without my friends. And if my parents figured it out, they’d kill me. But honestly, they’d already locked me in my room. How much worse could it get? (If only I knew.)
Screw them, I thought. There was only one way to survive this torture, and that was to be high.
I ran the water, tossed the packet into the back of my mouth, and drank it down.
Just brushing my teeth, Warden! I shouted for my mom’s benefit.
She was waiting for me, of course.
Before we left the house, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Gotta stay hydrated. And they think I’m not responsible. My parents were silent in the front seat of the car. I sat in the back by myself and waited for the molly to kick in. Which it did pretty much the second we walked into this totally posh office building downtown. I mean, honestly? These substance-abuse people must make a crap load of money. Everything was plush and gold and marble, and the lobby was superhushed and supremely air-conditioned. Right in the middle of the lobby was this wall of cascading water burbling over cut glass, and I was totally distracted by the sunlight beaming off of it in all directions. It was like being inside a rainbow, and I remember thinking, I wish Carson and Jess were here to see this.
Actually, I might have said it out loud, because my mom looked at me kind of funny.