Cynda and the City Doctor - Theodora Taylor Page 0,13
have found them this way if they’d heard me enter. Right now they’re in violation of at least three of my house rules. Eating on the couch. Watching television, I didn’t approve first. And turning on any screen whatsoever before their homework is done.
A’s the first to recover. “School’s cancelled. They sent us home before lunch.”
“What? Why didn’t you call me? And why didn’t the school send out a message?”
“We texted you,” E replies. “And when we tried calling you at Doc Haim’s, nobody answered.”
I silently curse, realizing that I never took my phone off of silent mode.
I take it out of my purse and sure enough, there are several alerts hanging out on the home screen. Text messages from both A and E.
“Okay, I’ve got to figure this out. Make yourself a real snack that’s not junk,” I say, snatching the potato chip bag out of A’s hands. “And then start on your homework.”
“We don’t have any homework.” E turns around and comes up to her knees on the couch. “And I can’t go over my lines, because Mr. Neville says the spring musical will probably be cancelled.”
She tears up and I can’t blame her. She’s been dreaming of playing the lead in the spring musical ever since joining the Guac High Thespian troupe as a freshman. And she’d gone through a lot, including a former director who didn’t believe in colorblind casting. This year, she’d finally gotten the lead role her talent deserved as Cinderella in Into the Woods. But now it looks like that dream long deferred won’t be coming true.
My heart squeezes with pity for her.
But then she wipes underneath her heavily mascaraed eye and asks, “Can I go over to August the Fifth’s house? He’s having a little get together.”
“First of all, I doubt it’s going to be little. Brandt Manor is huge, and I know how you teenagers get.”
I mean really know. As a former popular girl myself, I’d been invited to my share of get-togethers. And they always went from little to—shock of all shocks in a town with nothing else for teenagers to do—complete ragers.
On top of that, August Brandt V was the great-great grandson of the original founder of Weiss Fox Beer, which was headquartered in Guadalajara. That meant not only did he have access to all the beer his underage guests could imbibe, but since Weiss Fox was the main source of income in our little town, he could also get away with whatever he wanted.
“Second of all, I thought you hated August Brandt.”
E shrugs like she hasn’t been complaining about the what an intolerable asshole the Weiss Fox scion was since junior high. “I mean the party’s just at his house. I don’t have to talk to him or anything.”
“Third of all, a party doesn’t seem like the right reaction to school getting cancelled due to a highly contagious virus,” I finish.
“But—”
“No buts. You’re staying here. And A, turn on something else, please. I have no idea what this is, but I can already see it’s not going to make the cut for my approved watch list.”
Now it’s A’s turn to whine. “But everyone at school’s watching Tiger King.”
“Is that what this is?” I vaguely recall a few posts from my Instagram feed about the crazy true crime docuseries. “Now I really don’t want you watching it.”
Cue the teenage anguish. I clean up the mess they’ve somehow already managed to make of the living room while they claim to be the only high school seniors in the entire world who aren’t allowed to watch whatever they want whenever they want.
“You know what, keep on whining,” I tell them. “I drink teenage tears for breakfast. And they taste good. Mm-mm-mmm!”
An indignant double intake of breath. Then cue the accusations about me being a horrible tyrant who obviously enjoys their suffering. Eventually, I simply take the remote to the house’s only television and deposit it in my purse before letting them know, “You can have the remote for the TV I pay the electricity bill for and the password for the Wi-Fi after you clean your rooms and bathrooms.”
More screams before they finally disappear up the stairs on a trail of loud laments about how hard their lives are.
Aw, teenagers….
After they’re gone, I sit down on the couch and finally respond to all the stuff I missed. According to the school’s many emails, Spring Break, which was already set to begin next Monday would be extended by an additional week. And