The Idea of You

first.

Classic 90's teen movies, a two-liter bottle of pop, and freshly painted pigs. This was Friday night.

Every Friday night. I have seen Molly Ringwald turn 16 about a hundred times, Heath Ledger win Julia Stiles' heart about a million, and seen Reese Witherspoon take revenge on Sarah Michelle Gellar so many times I could reenact the whole movie of Cruel Intentions word for word and play every cast members role without effort. I am seventeen years old and I haven't done a damn thing with my teenage years. In fact, my life is so boring the last truly eventful thing I could speak about was when I went up a cup size last summer and forgot to get a new bathing suit so my nipple popped out at a kid at the pool. I laid in horror every night for a week after seeing that kid's smug face.

Chelsea hobbles into the room trying not to mess up her painted toes while holding a bowl of pretzels. "So since last week we watched Heathers I was thinking we'd go for something a little cuter today and see My Date With the President's Daughter. I know Disney, but it's really good and we technically haven't watched it together yet, so it's something new!" She says in her chipper voice that she usually squeaks out.

I don't say anything, instead, I just give a light groan as a signal of acceptance, and Chelsea squeals in delight. "Great, I haven't seen this in ages!"

"Chels, you're idea of ages is like two weeks."

"And I haven't seen it in two weeks!"

My eyes roll as I reach for my cup. "I'm gonna get a drink, want one?" I ask lifting myself from my bed.

"Nope, I've got some pop left. Oh bring up the almonds I forgot them," she says as she starts to get the movie going.

I slip on my fuzzy house slippers and close my room door behind me. Since I and Chelsea are the only ones home and awake most of the lights are out except for a couple that gives just enough light to go to and from where we need to be. Most nights were like this, my parents were asleep by 9 promptly every night and my brother was out until the sun came up if at all.

My parents were mediocre on their best days. They're the kind of people who had kids because they thought it was the thing to do when they got married and bought a house, not so much because they were actually excited about the idea of having kids. They were more preoccupied with their careers and frankly, their crumbling marriage.

Our house had six bedrooms and of the six, four were occupied. One for me, one for my brother, and one each for my mom and dad. They've been sleeping in different beds for about two years now and when me and Romeo, my other brother, first brought it up they pretended like they didn't hear the question. In fact, they ignored our question so many times we gave up asking. At this point, we're just waiting for them to push their pride to the side and just get it over with.

The stillness in our house was nauseating, I guess that's why Romeo prefers to stay out all day and night.

I trot down the steps a little quicker than normal and drag my feet into the kitchen. I hadn't realized all day just how tired I was until just now and if I was going to keep up the tradition with Chelsea I needed a cup of joe to keep me going through the night. And maybe a snack with a little more sugar than pretzels and almonds.

Once I step into the kitchen I find myself making a pot of coffee rather than just a cup in case I need to venture down again after the movie or even during it. I scoop in almost double the number of grinds that a normal person does and pop it into the machine before pressing start. Done with that I begin to search the cupboards for some chocolate or anything of the like.