BROOKLYN
Here I am, a senior, sitting in a parent teacher conference. I think my parents keeping up with my grades is nice and everything but I do think I'm a bit too old for this. It's weird, especially because only about two other people's parents came to these conferences. I don't exactly go to a good school so most of the kids' parents could care less about this.
I yawn, trying my hardest to not fall asleep. "Brooklyn, why were you not in class last Thursday? You are to have perfect attendance. This is unacceptable. Where were you?" my dad asks me. I frown a little. He notices the smallest things. "I was at school." I lie. The truth is I skipped seventh period and went to my bestfriend Tya's house. Tya's a bit on the wild side and I'm not. She's like darkness and I'm light but I don't care. She's a real friend.
"Brooklyn, you were not in class." my teacher calmly says with a raised eyebrow. "No, I wasn't in class but I was at school. I'm embarrassed but I had diarrhea. I had to go to the bathroom really bad. Every time I thought I was done, more boo boo came out and by the time it stopped, class only had two more minutes left." I lie, trying my hardest to not laugh in their faces.
My teacher looks away, trying not to laugh. "Mr. Cook, I apologize for my daughter's choice of words." my dad sterny says, giving me the death glare of the century. "Brooklyn, you do not talk that way! What's gotten into you?" my mom snaps at me. My teacher is laughing his ass off, breathing heavily and everything.
I chuckle. "Sorry mom and dad. You guys taught me to not lie. I was really in the restroom." I lie. "Let's go, now." my dad demands, standing up. I stand up. "Brooklyn, I'll change this unexcused absence to an excused one. Next time you have mud butt, please let me know so I don't think you're skipping my class." Mr. Cook jokes, still laughing.
I laugh as I follow my parents out of his classroom. "What was that, Brooklyn?" my mom asks, clearly pissed off. "Wouldn't you rather me be honest?" I ask. "You could have said that another way." my dad says. I shrug my shoulders. "What's gotten into you?" my mom asks. "Nothing. I'm fine." I answer. I'm tired of them asking me this same question every single day.
"You better buckle down, Brooklyn." my dad sternly says as we walk out of the bathroom. "I already did my homework and I already studied. My room is clean and the dishes are washed. May I please go over Tya's house?" I ask my parents. They look at each other. "That young lady is a bit wild. I don't care for her." my mom says. "Mom, you don't even know her. Stop judging people." I mumble. True, Tya is wild as hell but I don't care.
"I'm not judging her. I'm just stating the obvious. She's seventeen with multiple tattoos and you mean to tell me she isn't wild?" my mom asks. "Mom, you and dad had me when you guys were seventeen. That's worse than a tattoo." I point out. "You will not talk to your mother that way!" my dad yells. I roll my eyes, looking out the back seat window. They're so fake. They got saved four years ago and haven't been the same since. They act as if every little thing will send them to hell so they're beyond strict and they make life so hard to live sometimes.
"Jalepeño head ass." I mumble. "What was that?" my mom asks. "I said can I please go." I lie. "Fine. You can go. I'm picking you up tonight at ten." my dad says, finally giving in. I smile in satisfaction. About time.
The ride to Tya's house wasn't that long. Tya lives in a really rough neighborhood. I used to before I moved to Los Angeles from Houston but it wasn't nearly as bad as hers is. I don't care though. I can see the disgust in my parents' faces. Something I can't stand about them is how they act like their shit don't stink. We aren't perfect but they don't seem to realize that.
"Answer your phone if I call you. Go straight in the house. It's too many hoodlums hanging around." my dad says, pointing at the guys who are outside talking. They're minding their business. He is so judgemental. They may not even be hoodlums but any guy from a bad neighborhood is a hoodlum or thug in his eyes.
