Boys & Detentions

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Hey, Honey. How was work and school?" comes my mother's voice, who is watching TV while sipping the tea in her hands. She is sitting on the leather couch while her eyes look over me with… something.

But, nonetheless, I shrug, smile, and shut the front door behind me while I say with indifference, "Same old, same old. Sorry for coming home so late, Mr. Melson made me work a little longer."

My mother just chuckles and places her mug on the glass table while I drag my book bag on the marble floor towards the leather chair, leaving the bag against it and jumping to sink into the leather chair itself.

"That's funny," Mom starts, humor clearly nowhere in her voice, "Because when I called Mr. Melson three hours ago, he told me that you never showed up."

Well, shit.

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Maybe something like, "Oh yeah, I was late because I ran into this bipolar douche in detention that practically hand-raped me while carrying me on his back, and harassed me for about ten minutes while he took me to this giant tree. And we just… talked, " would be great.

Note the sarcasm.

What I do know, is that I'm staring at my mother like a deer caught in headlights with my body frozen and my heart beating like crazy.

"So," Mom smiles sweetly, "Are you going to tell me why you're home so late?"

I glance around nervously, trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes into mind, so my next few glances are focused on objects around the room, trying to think of ways some of the items can help me with an excuse. My eyes linger on the vase, the shelves, books, and many other things, but the main thing that catches my gaze the longest, which is about two seconds, is the yellow and black striped vase I made for my mother when I was in sixth grade.

"Nami!"

I clear my throat and look back at my mother's hard stare. "Well, um…you see… I," am going to die, "I… dropped my glasses down… a… down a—"

"Down a what?" my mother questions, one eyebrow raised.

"Down a hill," I say, nodding furiously to reassure her, "Because I was… running away from a… bee," she raises both her eyebrows, "And since I'm so clumsy, I tripped and then my glasses went flying down the hill. So then I went to look for it, and it took me forever to find it because… the grass was really tall," Oh, God, "… and then… I found it… and walked home from school."

"Well, as unfortunate as that sounds," she says, her face expressing sorrow, "Why didn't you just take the bus? You know, like EVERY OTHER DAY?!"

What she means is that I take the bus home after work because I live about eight miles away from work, which is a mile farther away from school, but since I didn't go to work today, I could've immediately taken the public transportation home like I usually do after work, but obviously none of that really worked out…

Back to the present.

I wince at her outburst, but nonetheless respond back, "I missed the bus because I took too long looking for my glasses."

My mom's gaze softens a little, probably feeling guilty for accusing me, and she gives me a small smile. But I quickly realize that it wasn't those I'm-feeling-guilty smiles, it was the type of smile that I had gotten one too many times by His Royal Ass himself.

"Oh?" A smirk curves onto her lips, "Then where are your glasses?"

My eyes widen, staring at my mother until a few moments later, I burst into giggles. And I do not giggle.