A-Girl

Gilda

Patty and I woke up at nine. The smell of bacon and waffles drifted through the house. Patty’s mother is a wonderful cook and I could see the similarities in the mother-daughter figure as I walked down stairs.
“The bacon smells good and all Mrs. Beezle, but I’m a strict vegetarian like my mother.” I said, trying not to sound cruel.
“Oh that reminds me!” She said looking up from the stove. “Your mother called last night to check up on you.”
I froze in mid-step. “Uh, what did she say?”
“Well, she called to ask how you were doing, but you two had already left for the concert. I told her that you would call when you came home, but you girls looked so tired. I decided to let it go.”
I stood frozen. My world melted around me.
“Gilda, are you ok?” Asked Patty, putting a re-assuring hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m…I’m OK,” I squeaked shaking it off. What was I going to do? HELP! I couldn’t even eat my waffles. I just watched them drown in their syrupy deathbeds.
“Oh dear,” sighed Mrs. Beezle. “I think you caught something at that concert last night.”
“Gilda, do you wanna lie down for a bit?”
“Uh no I’m fine,” I said starting to cut my waffles. Just trying to remember why I was born.
After breakfast Patty and I got dressed and she helped me pack up. We put my things on the porch and sat on the steps.
“Patty, I have to tell you something,” I whispered.
“Gilda, don’t say it. I already know.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Its kind of obvious!” Patty laughed.
“I’m going to be in big trouble with my mom though. How is that funny?” I practically shouted.
“How are you going to get in trouble for liking Jacob?” She said quizzically.
“Oh, I meant about something else.” I mumbled.
“Huh? What is it Gilda? You can tell me anything.”
“Oh, no, no it’s nothing.”
Patty shrugged and leaned back on top of my sleeping bag.
“Hey you’re going to flatten it!” I said punching it out from under her. She landed on her back with an “Oomph!”
We both started giggling, until my dad pulled up the driveway.
“Well see ya later.” Here I am, first in line at death row.
I grabbed my junk and walked toward the van. Dad didn’t say anything, but helped to put my things in the trunk. When I sat next to him in the car he pulled out of the driveway and sighed loudly.
“You’re grounded.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Mrs. Beezle.”
“How did she know?”
“She told me what she told mom.”
“Oh.”
The rest of the drive was quiet except for the radio, which was playing eerie jazz music.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Yes you will be, once all your chores are done, without any cell phone, computer, or anything else besides school. You’ll be sorry you ever went to that concert,” he grunted, positioning his glasses.
“Jeez,” I mumbled under my breath.
As we got toward our house, I could see mom meditating in the front lawn. She raised her hands in the air and screamed, “Hello? Hello!”
“Could you tell her not to do that? Some people from my school might see her,” I whined.
“You have no right to say what your mother can and can’t do. Go inside and pack, now.” Dad said angrily.
I dragged my feet inside my freezing house. The air conditioning was blasting even though it was sixty degrees outside. Could it get any colder in here?
Once I walked into my room I threw my crap on my bed. I fell on top of it, clothes and all, but I tried to ignore the hurt that I felt. Not just the bags, but also the hurt of disobeying my parents. I sighed deeply, and I felt like my heart was ripped in two. Guilt is horrible.