section seven

“Your father and I were planning on going out, we had hoped you watch Andrew,” she asked in that voice that was supposed to make me feel guilty for putting her in the position to have to cancel her date with Dad. Firstly, at one time that voice had worked on me and I would have conceded. It didn’t work so well now. Secondly, why did Mom and Dad need to go out on a date? They were already married, what exactly was the point of this date?

“Everyone’s going.”

“Your father and I would like to spend some time together. We’d really appreciate this.”

“You share a room, isn’t that enough?”

“Brigitte Reed.”

I hated when she used my middle name.

“Can’t you get a babysitter?” This was becoming futile, I was merely arguing so I wouldn’t have to give in.

“You know how Andrew does with people he doesn’t know.” She was already wiping down the counters, probably prepared to ask me to stay downstairs so she could retire to her room. Retire was her word. And after the exhausting day at work how could I, the daughter that only goes to school five days a week, six hours a day and watches Andrew until Mom gets home, not comply to her every wish. Why, it would be downright selfish of me.

“Can’t you drop him off at Grandma’s?”

I could still hear Dad trying to console Andrew in the background, turing on the Wizard of Oz for him to watch. He loved tapping his heels together with Dorothy.

“Brigitte, your grandmother isn’t as young as she once was—” really? Was that how the aging process worked “—Andrew needs someone who can chase after him.”

“It’s not fair.” This wasn’t the first time Mom and I had gone through the motions of this conversation. It happened pretty every time I wanted to go somewhere when Mom and Dad had plans which was practically every time I wanted to do something. It was quite convenient. “I’ve only been to one school dance and all my friends are going to be there! It’s Homecoming! They really splurged on this one, there’s gonna be a DJ and everything.”

“I need you home with Andrew. Your father and I already bought the tickets for the show. We’re going to see Fiddler on the Roof. Judy, from work, saw it last week and said it was amazing.”

“You know,” I got off the counter and went to the doorway, “maybe next time you can tell me ahead of time so I don’t get my hopes.”

“I’m sorry, Brigitte, we just kind of figured you would be home.”

“So, I’m a freak with no social life? Whose fault is that? It’s a freakin’ miracle I’m even able to have any friends!”

“Excuse me? You can go to your room, Brigitte Reed, and you will definitely not be going to that dance. Not with that attitude. Consider yourself grounded.”

I huffed and turned around. Dad was sitting at the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked old. His hair, which was once dark and full, was pretty much missing and what was left was a dirty grey color.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. I’m sure he would. Another iPod, an iTunes gift card perhaps, maybe a few hundred bucks to spend at the mall.

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

At school I broke the news to Kayla that I would not be going to the dance and that I probably wouldn’t even be able to go shopping with her.

“But that’s not fair.” Didn’t I know it! Not fair was like the tagline of my biopic. “It’s not like you gave birth to him or something. He’s your brother, not your son.”

“Yeah, I know that, Kayla. My parents have some thing planned. I don’t know. I was just told last night. I flipped, Mom flipped, Andrew was screaming about the Wicked Witch of the West in the background. It was all bad,” I slumped on to the bench. Since I wasn’t Kayla my hair was probably stuck in gum, but it would just complete my day. My home ec teacher inquired about our papers and I, being me, said I was already done with mind. I had to think fast and explain that I didn’t have it on me. I hadn’t accomplished any more of the essay.

My family is…

I had even written out the dot dot dots just to add the the dismal thing the paper was turning out to be. But what was I supposed to write? If I wrote the truth it would just get me a trip to the counselor and a call home.

My family is made up of four people. My mom who completely ignores me and acts like she has sacrificed so much for her family. Do you know the last time she had a mani-pedi date with her ‘girls’? It’s been like three weeks, that’s just so unselfish of her. My dad who does his best to make everything work between all of us but is probably in over his head. Me, who gets ignored and walked over from left and right and will probably only barely make it out of the house alive come graduation. And my brother, who is trying to ruin my life.

Yeah, that would pretty much be a one way ticket to see Mrs. Lawson, the school counselor.

“Maybe Winter Formal,” Kayla said hopefully, but I wasn’t crossing any fingers.

Wednesday came too fast.

It wasn’t fair how things worked like that. When you were looking forward to something time pretty much stood still, but when you wanted to avoid something time pretty much hit the fast forward button.

“I’ll be by to pick you up at seven,” Dad told me as I picked up my bag from the floor of the car.

“And then we’ll go to fro-yo, right?” I double-checked. It would be typical for him to accidently forget, even though he spoiled me from the guilt.

“Of course, Brig. Have a good time. Make some friends.”

I didn’t say anything. I just got out of the car and slammed the door. The night was perfect, it was that nice moment between being too warm and being too cold and my jeans and tank top were the perfect combo. The building loomed in front of me with crickets and frogs chirpping and ribbiting as I walked up the lighted path to the building front. Even from outside I could hear people chatting and yelling— having gun.

Make some friends, Dad had said. The thing was I already had friends. I didn’t want anymore. I was perfectly content with my collection of friends.

word count: 1132