carefully put the car into park, engaged the brake and fiddled with the keys. “We only have your interest at heart, you know that. It’s so hard to know whom we can trust. Daddy and I realize how difficult this is for you.”
“I don’t think you really do,” I shot back. “I’ve been in seven schools in twelve years, and I’ve never had any friends. You always tell me how special I am, how I have to be careful. But I can’t live the rest of my life worrying about being taken advantage of. I just can’t. I need to be able to get to know people, to make some real friends. You and Daddy have each other. I have no one.”
I jumped out of the car, grabbing my backpack and slamming the door. Tears were threatening, and I wasn’t going to break down out here. I held myself stiff as my mother unlocked the front door, and I followed her inside, going directly to my room.
I threw my bags on the bed and then dropped down next to them, curling up with my head buried in the pillow. I had never been a dramatic teenager. My parents had gotten off pretty lightly when it came to adolescent angst. But right now, it felt as though all the injustices of the world were crashing down on me. Any other normal girl could talk to a boy in front of her mother without said parent envisioning doom. Why did I feel so guilty?
I sulked in my room until my mother called me for dinner. At the table, the tension was painfully thick. My father broke the awkward silence about half way through the meal.
“Your mother tells me you met someone today,” he began. “That must have been nice.”
“It was a change, anyway,” I muttered.
“Well, you’re a beautiful young lady. I’m only surprised this hasn’t happened before now.” I knew what this was. This was the praise that was supposed to make me feel good about myself before they lowered the boom of whatever came next.
“But…?” I prompted.
“But what?” My father was all innocence. “I was just commenting.”
“Really?” I broke off a piece of meatloaf with my fork and toyed with it. “So you’d be okay with Michael driving me home from school?”
My mother nearly choked on her green beans, and my father put down his knife with a deliberate clunk. They both gawked at me as though I’d grown a second head.
“Driving you home? When?” My mother found her voice first.
“I don’t know. He just mentioned that he could. Or would. Some time.” I was hedging.
“Why would he do that?” my dad demanded.
“I don’t know, maybe because I’m—what did you say? A beautiful young lady?” I bit back a smug smile.
For a few minutes, the silence returned. My father took a bite of his roll, chewing slowly. I didn’t cheat and listen to him, but I couldn’t block his swirl of annoyance, worry and fear.
When he did speak, his voice was serious.
“Tasmyn, we have been given the job of protecting you, all your life. Not only because of your—your gift, but just because you are our child. No matter what the circumstance, we would be very cautious about entrusting your safety to someone we don’t really know.”
“I understand that. But I also know that I’m seventeen years old, and I’ve never given you reason to believe that I’m anything less than trustworthy. We’re talking a drive from the school to here, less than ten minutes. I’d probably be safer that way than walking home, which was what I’d been planning to do, now that I know the way.”
Neither of them answered me immediately. I knew they were struggling, and in some ways, I felt guilty for being the cause of their distress. I inadvertently picked up a few phrases floating in their heads… she’s still so young, she doesn’t know… how do we know if this boy can be trusted… But still I stayed stubbornly quiet, my eyes glued to the table.
Finally, my mother spoke. “So, you really think it’s safe for you to ride to school with someone you’ve known—what, a day? Not even?”
I shrugged. “It’s not like he’s asked me out on a date. He just offered me a ride. I’d like to know I could say yes without you guys freaking out or getting mad.”
My father scowled at me. “I don’t think either of us has freaked out. We’ve expressed our reservations to you. If I’m going to