Parents are a mystery. If we ignore them, we’re rebellious and disobedient. If we do what they say, they have a go because we’re doing it wrong. They can shout at us and be rude all they like, but if we talk back, we’re being disrespectful. And of course they are always right, they understand how we feel even though everything has changed since they were our age, and we’re always wrong. And finally, they never listen to their own advice.
So can you imagine what they think when you’re fifteen and have your first boyfriend?
“Slut!” screamed my frantic mother, her face a terrifying shade of scarlet, My dad on the other hand remained in silence whilst he sat in his armchair. I could imagine what was going through his mind, we with a boy. Well, you’ll be pleased to know that I am completely innocent. All we have done is meet up a few times, secretly, and text (an awful lot) since we told each other how we felt. Apart from that afternoon at the ice rink.. but never mind that.
Besides, it’s not exactly my fault that the person I’ve been crushing on since year two has realised he’s crazy about me (that’s what he said, when he told me) Me! Not the Royals, or a really tall blonde. But me. And in my defence, it’s all Miss Brewer’s fault for assigning that really hard task the week before we broke up from school.. Ok I can blame her for a lot of things, but not that. Annoyingly. But still, my dad can’t really blame me, can he? I am a girl, a teenage girl, and I do have feelings and certain needs. And my rather gorgeous boyfriend meets them. He makes me feel so wanted, and special. And at the end of the day when he’s all alone, I’m the one he wants beside him.
Snap out of it Vinny, of course it’s your fault. Your fault for you walking straight into him that day! Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Dad. He hates me, who am I kidding. He still treats me like I’m five, not fifteen and I’m sixteen in two months for crying out loud. Although I have absolutely no ‘intentions’ WHATSOEVER, it’s not like I can just walk up to my parents and say,
“Mum, Dad, no need to worry. I’m not up to no good, this whole thing is completely innocent and harmless, I promise,” can I? Like every other teenager hasn’t said that before! I’m not stupid, I knew they would find out eventually. It’s just that I had hoped to keep it a secret for a little longer, that’s all.
No, I am stupid. Flaming stupid for sending all of those frilling messages and turning on that flipping SMS Delivery Service. So basically every time I sent a message, I was unaware of the fact that I was being charged. Dang phone contract. When the bill came through, my dad was furious. Mental.
“£40! You’ve cost me £40!” He kept repeating it over and over again. Correction, bellowing it over and over again. As if I was blind to my bleeding stupid mistake. I had no idea that I sent that many messages! I’ve only been on my new contract for a month, this is only the second bill. Now, because I have unlimited messages I don’t worry or keep track of how messages I’m sending.
Stupid dang delivery reports. Stupid frilling Vinny, aka, world’s biggest idiot. But nothing could have prepared me for when he printed off the list of numbers. I thought he was mad then but, god I was wrong. He meticulously went through each page, (much to my dismay) all eleven of them, highlighting the modal numbers. But after just page two it’s obvious who I text the most. Dad then picked up the phone and violently punched the keys, dialling Matt’s number. I prayed so hard for his phone to be off, but this time my prayers were unanswered. How I didn’t die of embarrassment downstairs in the lounge this morning I do not know.
“Who the hell is this?” But Dad didn’t give Matt a chance to answer.
“Why the hell are you texting my daughter so much?”
“Dam right this is Lavinia’s father! Care to explain yourself, Matthew,” he spat his name, “what are your intentions? Answer me god dam it!” He would if you’d shut up dad! However, in light of the current situation I thought it best to keep that one to myself and remain silent, and to just curse my father inside my head. My dad’s expression was filled with disgust as he handed over the phone.
“It’s for you.” Reluctantly, I placed the phone by my ear.
“He..hello?” I managed to stutter. As much as I wanted to talk to him, I was struggling to get any words out.
“Hey Vin, it’s me,” even though I was fighting back the tears, I couldn’t help but smile. I was so happy to hear his voice. I still couldn’t find any words, so I stayed silent.
“I take it your Dad found out.”
“I guess you could say that, what gave it away?” My smile now stretched from ear to ear which peeved my dad even more probably.
“Well we had a good run, didn’t we Vin?” There he was, my Matt. I adore his sense of humour.
The line went dead after dad viciously snatched the phone from me. He looked like a spiteful child in a playground who’s just been smacked for being naughty. He was acting like it too. But then as he sat back down, and the realisation sank in, his expression changed, frown gone. Now his face was emotionless. That’s when my mum jumped up and called me a slut. Even though I was absolutely terrified by my mum, I couldn’t help but look past her, at Dad. I can’t forget his face. I’m his little girl, well to him anyway. But now he has to accept that I’m growing up. Finally!
A few minutes later, after lots of shouting, name-calling and answering back I had been banished from the lounge. This time I felt like a child as I was sent to my room, empty handed. Amazingly I’d had enough common sense to hit the DELETE-ALL option in my message centre before having my phone confiscated by my dad.
Grounded. Two months, as well as for the rest of the summer holiday, all one week of it. That and my allowance being taken away to pay for the phone bill. They didn’t take my laptop away, but my dad wasn’t born yesterday. He’s changed the security code for the wireless home-hub and funnily enough, he’s forgotten to give it to me. The only internet access I have now is by using the family computer, conveniently situated in the lounge, in full view of my family. Dang it.
At the moment I’m lying down on my bed, music blaring full volume (just to wind dad up). But all I can think of is Matt’s face, his sweet smile, the way he takes my breath away whenever he says hello or the sensation of flying I get whenever he holds my hand. Chest aching, my heart sinks and hits the floor with a loud