"Why am I always in trouble?" I asked my mom once.
"Because, I've caught you doing some bad things. They say parents will only see ten percent of the mischievous stuff their teenagers do. Imagine the ninety percent I'm missing."
There was no ninety percent. There was only one hundred since the woman caught me EVERY TIME I did something bad, seriously. There must be something about Italian mothers--she knew stuff before it happened! The time I battled in a spray paint war and got my best friend in the eye, my mom knew about that right before we went to the doctor. The time I accidentally started my friend's driveway on fire, of course my friend's mom saw the smoke. The time I made holes in the bookshelf since it made a nice waterfall with all my mom's fine glasses angled just right and water flowing down--she found that too--what were the odds?!
I was a pretty good kid, who never got to experience the other ninety percent, but I hoped change hung in the wind. That's when I decided to sluff. I put it in my planner because I refused to get anything less than a "B." I was on track to graduate two trimesters early and earn a scholarship. I wouldn't screw that up for anything.
Anyway, some of my best friends at the time were four boys. We drove around town, singing loud and being ridiculous. I remember worrying that at any moment the car behind us would be a cop--after all, I never got the ninety percent.
It wasn't until a really old lady looked at us suspiciously since we were too young to be out of school. She started gawking at the license plate and pulled out a pen and paper. "NO!" My friend and I screamed. She just jotted down the numbers and looked serious.
Dave floored it after that. And I swear the woman followed us for a bit because if old ladies know anything, it's how to drive fast and make good tea!
We finally did lose her and I turned to one of the guys.
"Do you think she called the cops?" I asked after a moment.
"Maybe, but we're under age. We have a few more years to live things up and have the time of our lives. Don't worry so much. Today is about having fun. This is Dave's car; he'd rather die than rat any of us out. Concentrate on not getting caught, and you'll finally get away with it."
So we went to Burger King and I felt pretty neat. I was the lanky prankster-chick, like Harley Quinn; who probably got to experience ninety percent.
We sat down and I ate a huge Whopper. Life never tasted so good. "You know, having the ninety percent, well it feels real great."
The guys chuckled. "Yep, and you're practically one of the boys now. You passed our initiation."
Another one nodded. "Plus, it's nice having a girl around. So Dave isn't the softest one around."
I glared and Jim knew he should shut his mouth; plus I think he had a crush on me even before I started wearing makeup.
We told jokes and laughed. I was the luckiest girl in the world...until my dad walked into Burger King!
"Oh crap." I whispered and felt my ninety percent fly out the window. "Why do I always get caught?!"
"I told you we shouldn't have brought a girl. They're bad luck," Dave said. Jim was right--Dave was a pansy.
Meanwhile, as we fought at the table, my dad looked as happy as ever. He's one of the most amazing people, who never goes INSIDE fast food restaurants.
"Did he see us?" I asked Jim.
He shook his head. "I don't think so. But like I said before, you're one of the boys now. We'll get you out of this. Here's what we're gonna do."
To be continued tomorrow . . .
This mum saw and knew more then she let on, why???? because I picked my battles
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