Page 29 of Grounded
"I really don't want to. High school sucked," he confesses.
I can only imagine how difficult high school was for Theo. Not exactly the most attractive or popular kid there. Lost his father in a horrible accident in Afghanistan and had to finish out his senior year with friends who abandoned him.
I'm sure our experiences were completely different. Theo had his own club of fellow nerds that tapered off into a party of one. I was among the attractive bunch of alpha males and pageant queens who ditched classes and went to every football game.
Apparently, growing boobs over the summer makes you more popular your senior year. Which felt invalidating since my personality alone never got me in that crowd.
They were all surface-level friends. I felt like an outsider who never belonged and was only useful for my car. When we went our separate ways after graduation, I didn't keep in contact with anyone. The friendships never felt genuine.
"You should go," Molly encourages us. "It could be fun to see how everyone is ten years later."
"No offense, Molly, but Theo and I live at home temporarily. And we're jobless. I'm pretty sure we won't be wowing anyone with our accomplishments. I can't show up and claim I invented Post-Its."
"Post-Its?" Molly echoes.
She's clearly never seenRomy and Michele's High School Reunion. "Never mind. Either way, I'm not going to mine."
"I'll think about it," Theo admits.
Because, of course! Why wouldn't he make his grand debut and reveal the smoke show he turned into?
He could point to the women he wanted to take home, and they'd drop everything—their drink, their husband, their panties—and walk out the door with him.
I have nothing to show for myself if I go to my reunion.
I'm living with my parents and about to go back to the same job I had as a senior. No thanks.
Myten-yearhighschoolreunion?
Sure, I could attend and show them how much I grew up. No one would even recognize me. But like Amelia said: I'm living at home, I have no job, and no girlfriend.
No one will care I helped build ten houses for families in need. They'd want to know how much weight I lost and what my workout routine is. The superficial tendencies from our high school days will no doubt be as obvious as my transformation.
And yet, I want to see the faces of everyone who avoided me my senior year.
No one knew how to deal with someone whose father was killed in the war. And while I understand they had no idea what to do at our young age, I can't help but feel the tiniest bit of resentment. They should have been there for me even when I pushed them away.
"We're barbecuing tonight," Bruce tells us. "We'd like it if you'd join us for dinner on the patio."
Amelia doesn't commit right away, so I'm unsure if I'm supposed to, too. We were about to discuss our parents and how precarious it is living back home with them.
I wonder if my mom is as hopeful as I imagine her to be that the four of us will get along. That's doubtful. I tolerate Bruce because she loves him, but he is not my father, and will never be my father.
"I'll try to be there." Amelia crumples her invitation into an even smaller wad of paper.
"We bought a ton of food and wanted to celebrate you both being back home," Bruce adds, jumping at any opportunity to point out our current living arrangements.
"Temporarily," Amelia reminds him.
Her constant need to remind us she's only here for a small amount of time is already driving me nuts.
Del Mar, a coastal town north of San Diego, is known for its beaches, not the film industry. She’s dreaming if she thinks she can find something down here.
Is she judging me because I don't know how long I plan on staying here? The discernment and unspoken truth are evident in the way she's constantly defending her position.
"Okay, we get it. You don't want to be here," I say with an eye roll.
"No, I don't. I wish I was back at my old job, in my old apartment, living my giant lie of a life."
