Study Sessions With The Bad Boy

Chapter 10 (Thursday)

Brooklyn's POV

"Brooklyn!" my mom calls out as soon as I make in the house.

I let out a sigh and drop my things on the end table. "Coming," I say, walking into the living room. She's sitting on the couch, drinking a cup of tea. I take a seat in the rocking chair across from her. "How was your day, mom?" I ask more out of courtesy than curiosity. My mother doesn't work or anything. Her schedule is the same every day. Morning jog after we leave for school and my father goes to work, tea with a few of her friends from nine to ten, maybe a grocery run, soap operas at one, pick Bruce up at three, prepare dinner at five, and so on.

"It was alright. Nothing special," she says.

I nod, getting a good look at her, something I haven't done in a few days. I've been so busy. I hadn't even noticed that her dark brown hair is slowly adapting a grayer tint and small wrinkles are starting to form in the corners of her eyes. Her bright blue eyes even seem duller. She looks as if she's aged five years over night. "Is everything okay?"

She nods immediately. "Of course, honey, but I didn't call you in here to talk about the lack of excitement in my day."

"What is it?"

"It's a little late to be coming from a tutor session, don't you think?" she asks.

I look at the clock on cable box. It's only 7:13. I made it here before dinner. I was only there for a few hours. I just decided to stay a little longer and help Mitchell with the assessments just to make sure he got them done. I have to put in extra hours since we're only meeting three times a week now anyway. "This is a much bigger assignment than all of my others. That's why Mr. Brown asked me."

"Is he giving you any problems?"

"No, mom. Everything's fine. He's difficult to deal with at times but it's nothing I can't handle," I say.

"Your father and I still think it's a bad idea. What if he tries something with you. You're not exactly the most intimidating thing. We're just concerned," she says. "You're already dressing differently."

I can't believe this. If only she could have seen how I've been standing up to Mitchell these past few altercations. How dare they underestimate me like this? Why can't they just trust that I can handle myself? I'm only tutoring Mitch. They act like I plan on running away and getting knocked up.

"For the last time, mom, nothing is going to happen. I'm just tutoring him, and it'll look good on applications. My grades are fine and I'm not even remotely attracted to him. Have a little faith in me for once," I practically snap.

I'm so tired of my parents trying to control my every move. I'm doing everything they want already. Why can't they just take a step back and realize that I'm not a kid anymore?

Her eyes harden and her lips form a straight line like it always does when she's considering what to say without letting her anger get the best of her. "I will not tolerate that attitude. First that see-through thing on Monday, then you're displaying your chest and stomach for the world to see,and now you're giving me attitude? You can continue to tutor that boy, but if this behavior continues and the minute your grades start to slip, then I'm pulling you out of it. That's final." With that she gets up and heads toward the kitchen. "We had an early dinner tonight. Sorry you missed it. Now get up stairs and change before your father catches you in these ridiculous clothes."

My jaw drops in disbelief. We never have early dinners. It's a part of routine, and our routine changes. It's how we keep order and structure throughout the house. Dinner starts at 7:30 every night. Not 7:31 or 7:29. We always sit at the table at 7:30. She must really be upset with me to call an early dinner, and the fact that my father went along with it is shocking. All of this because of a lousy crop shirt and ripped jeans?