I Don't Like His Skinny Jeans

When Sav and I landed in California, our parents were waiting for us. The whole plane ride, I was preparing myself for a whole lecture. Or at least something horrible. But of course, all my nail biting was wasted. After saying good bye to Sav, getting in the car, and driving onto the freeway, my dad told me that I was as pale as a ghost.

"We're not mad at you Wilfred, we really aren't. You're almost eighteen, and we shouldn't be punishing you for something like this anymore. Your grades are okay, you're happy, you're healthy, and you got a plan for college, and that's all we really care about right now. Just relax, you have school tomorrow so just get to bed early, okay?" He assured me, ruffling my hair. It had grown out to past my shoulders now, I was long overdue for a trim. My bangs, fringe, whatever you want to call it, was now past my chin, safely tucked behind my ear.

"Just okay? I have one C. One! And it's a C plus!" I asked melodramatically.

"Just go to sleep, you're flight was probably tiring. Did you sleep at all?"

"No," I said. "But Sav sure did! She was snoring!"

My parents laughed, I laughed, I laid down, they turned the radio on. The last thing I heard before falling asleep was the trash economy. Wonderful.