Page 7 of We Are the Stars

“Call me when you’re done being a jackass!” I call over my shoulder.

Taking long strides, I hurry my way to my car before he decides to chase me down again. Jase and I hardly ever fight; in fact, I think we’ve had about four arguments our entire friendship.

Guess we can add a fifth one to that now.

Annoyance tinged with confusion pours from me as I unlock my sedan and throw my clothes into the back seat. I try to ignore the little voice in the back of my head nagging at me to not walk away during a fight, but I’m frustrated with Jase’s behavior. This is so unlike him, and I know he hurt that Carsen guy’s feelings. The dude all but fled from the diner the moment those words left Jase’s mouth.

I pull out onto the street, heading toward my parents’ house. Passing by Jase, who’s still standing where I abandoned him, I ignore his attempt to flag me down.

During the short drive back home, the smallest ounce of curiosity flitters through me at what Jase said about Carsen, but I squash it before it can get far. I willnotcontribute to gossip of any sort. If I want information, I will get it from the source, but I don’t want information. I want to forget about the shitty fight I had with Jase and forget about how much he seems to be changing.

I park my car along the shoulder in front of our modern two-story house. I can hear music filtering outside through the open windows, and I smile. Mom’s playing an old record again, and through the open curtains, I see she’s dancing along to the music.

Reaching into the back seat, I grab my basket of laundry and hustle my way into the house.

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!”

I drop my clothes by the door and make my way into the kitchen, drawing to a stop once I see the scene in front of me. Dad has a broom kicked sideways as he runs his fingers down the wooden stem like a guitar. Mom’s shimmying her hips back and forth with her apron covering her pajamas. The smell of Reuben sandwiches fills the air and makes my mouth water. Maybe it’s a good thing I walked out on lunch; Reubens are my favorite.

“You have some sick skills, Dad.”

Startled, he almost drops the broom. “Damn, kid, warn an old man next time you try to sneak up on him.”

“I shouted when I walked in the door. Besides, warning you would defeat the purpose of sneaking,ifI was.”

“Oh please, like I can hear you over the soothing sounds of Bob Seger’s ‘Hollywood Nights’.”

“Soothing? Is that what this is called?”

He points a finger at me. “I will ground you.”

“Bring it on, old man. I’m too old to be grounded.”

“You still live here, dear,” my mother reminds me as she begins making another sandwich.

“Aha! That means Icanground you. You’re on thin ice.”

“You’re not grounding her, Nigel—unless she did something illegal.” My mother grabs her chest and gasps. “Oh Lord, did you do something illegal, Elliott Marie?Again?”

“That snowball was an accident! I wasn’t aiming for the window; I was aiming for that asshole Jase. He moves too fast. Also, I wasnine!”

My dad looks over at my mom with a frown. “I told you we should have sent her off to juvie when we had the chance, Kaye. Not only is she a vagrant with a criminal past, but she’s now turned into”—audible gulp—“a potty mouth!”

My mother’s eyes begin to fill with tears. “Where did we go wrong, Nigel? Where!”

They embrace and pretend to cry into each other’s arms, throwing out soothing words and repeatedly saying, “I only wanted a good kid!” They think they’re a comedy duo.

I turn up the melodramatics and throw myself into one of the chairs surrounding the overcrowded square dinner table. “Why couldn’t I have normal parents?”

“Oh you do, dear,” my mother says, smacking a kiss to my father’s cheek, her love for him shining bright in her eyes before she turns back to the sandwiches like she didn’t put on an Oscar-worthy performance only seconds ago. “Now, where did you run off to this morning?”

“Hung out at the laundromat with Jase.”

My father peeks his head out from behind the pantry door. “Is our washer and dryer broken?” He turns to my mom. “Do I need to grab my tool belt?”

Mom scoffs. “As if you could actually fix something, Nigel. No, the washer and dryer work fine as far as I know.”

“It gets me out of the house. I need a break from you weirdos sometimes. Plus, Fish had his crap in there and I wasnotgoing to fold his underwear.”

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