My feet tapped along to the punk rock music blasting in my ears. My curly, dark brown hair blew in the wind as my Mother drove down the interstate, swerving in and out of the rush hour traffic. My eyes traveled to the towering buildings we passed. Most of them looked like they were made of glass. I need to get Dad to take me to his office so I can look down on this interstate from the 21rd floor. My Dad had moved us to this city, Hot Springs, two years ago so he could continue his job being a therapist. Not like our old town didn’t haven’t enough wackos. Although, since then my life has been little less than perfect. However, today I was facing a surprising difficulty. I spent my entire weekend scrubbing some old ladies house to get enough money to go to a rock concert tonight. I didn’t think about whether or not my parents would let me, until I told Mom at the grocery store we just finished shopping at. Coming to that thought, it reminded me that I had to keep up my you’re-ruining-my-life attitude. I scowled at Mom, realizing that I look just like her. The same color brown hair, the same gray eyes, and the same tall, lanky stature. I suppressed that thought as she nervously leaned over to grab her phone from under my seat.
“Mom! Why don’t you watch the road?” I snapped, feeling guilty about using that tone of voice with her the moment it was out. Rose, why are you doing this to her?
“Excuse me? I think I know what I’m doing,” she began, then mumbled something unintelligible as she dialed a number on her phone.
Once again, just like every time there is friction between us, which has been a lot lately, she begins to talk on the phone at a hundred miles per hour.
As we pulled into our driveway, my twin brother, Ayden, and my Dad, Jeffery, were both on ladders, attempting, but failing, to put up Christmas lights. Mom and I grabbed the bags out of the trunk and I lagged along behind her, making sure to sigh and groan loud enough for her to hear.
“Rosemary,” she began, changing my name into a threat. “I don’t want to hear anything more about this stupid concert. You’re not going.” Her brown eyes bore into mine as I mentally shouted back at her. Why are you doing this to me? I am not a kid! You would let Ayden go!
“No, I would not!” She yelled. I bit my tongue as I realized I had spoken out loud.
“Yes, you would! You are always letting him do things that you won’t let me do.” I retorted much too loudly. She began to shoving cans into the cupboard.
“Rose, it’s different,” she said, suddenly taking a more calm approach to my rebellion. I roll my eyes because I know one of her parenting book speeches is about to come. “People mature at different rates. And as I am fully aware that you and your brother were born at almost the exact same time-believe me, I know-he has matured faster. He is ready for things right now that you aren’t. Just like you were ready to potty train before him. You’ll get there just like he got there. Be patient. And, in the meantime, you are going to have to trust your father and I.”
I couldn’t take anymore. I threw the grocery bags down and stormed up the stairs into my bedroom. Just as I grabbed the glass doorknob to slam the door, a black boot stopped my rebellious act.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ayden asked, as he strolled over to my bed. His brown hair was wet, probably from the snow, and his nose was a light shade of pink.
“Mom is making me mad. She won’t let me go to the concert tonight!” I complained, plopping down onto the bed beside him.
“Well, you need to chill. You know Mom is only trying to protect you,” he said, nudging my shoulder. I began to pull on a loose string from my pink flowered bed spread. “Besides, I heard they stink anyways.”
“Yeah, right! I have been waiting all year from them to come to Hot Springs and now I can’t even go see them!” I know it’s foolish, but I desperately want to start crying. I don’t think it is because I can’t go to the concert. It’s something else.
“Have you tried asking Mom or Dad to take you? You could probably go then.”
“No. I don’t want them to take me.” I snatched a pillow that was laying on my white carpet and hugged it close to me.
“Well, stop complaining then. You have an option and you don’t want to take it.” Ayden got up and started throwing an old hackey sack into the air.
“Aay, I just got a great idea,” I explain, jumping from the bed. “You could take me! You have your drivers license-they trust you.” I added when he started to shake his head.
“No way, Rose. They won’t let either of us go, and you know it.”
“We don’t have to tell them.” I whispered, grabbing his arm, stopping him from leaving.
“Do you really think that is such a good idea?” He asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He formed it into a accusation.
“Yeah, I do,” I responded. “Please, Aay! You snuck out the just the other night!”
“Did not!” Finally, I got under his skin. He's easier to manipulate if you hold something to him. Aren’t we all?
“I know you did. Now, please, let me have my fun.”
“No, Rose.” At that, he left the room, but somehow I knew that our conversation wasn’t over.
