“Katie? Everything okay in there?”
I was at home in the bathroom, and I had the shower running.
“What? I can’t hear you!”
“You’ve been in the shower a long time!”
“Okay, I’m getting out!”
The truth was, I hadn’t been in the shower at all. I’d been texting my friends. It was an hour after rehearsal, and there was a lot to discuss. But if I’d been in my room, my parents would have done what they did the other night, knocking every five seconds and looking over my shoulder.
So I decided to “take” a shower. And my mom wanted to know why it was taking so long to get clean.
“You’re wasting water!”
“In a minute!”
My phone beeped—incoming. I was mainly texting three people: Becca, Nareem, and Charlie Joe. I was talking to Becca about the talent show, avoiding the topic of writing songs; I was complaining to Nareem that Becca didn’t want to write songs; and I was telling Charlie Joe that Nareem was a great boyfriend because he listened without judging.
Are you saying I judge? asked Charlie Joe.
Stop jumping to conclusions, I answered. Nareem is just nicer than you, that’s all.
He wrote back immediately: Hey!
“Katie!” It was my dad. “Turn that thing off!”
You can’t pressure her. From Nareem.
I’m not! I just thought writing songs would be cool.
Becca: Sorry about today. Don’t be mad.
So, she wanted to talk about the songwriting thing after all.
I immediately wrote her back. i’m totally not mad!
Phew, she wrote back. I don’t want to hold you back. If you want to start another band with more serious musicians i would totally understand.
Cut it out, I wrote. i’m a CHICKMATER for life.
HA-HA, Becca wrote.
Another knock on the door. I turned the shower off. “I’m drying my hair!”
“For crying out loud,” muttered my dad.
I needed to wrap this up.
TTYL XX, I texted Becca.
Becca and I just made up! I texted Nareem.
A text from Charlie Joe: Well i’m glad you still like Nareem. It actually makes life a lot less complicated. I mean it.
A text from Nareem. Yay!
“What exactly are you doing in there?” my mom asked.
“I think we need to talk about possibly limiting your phone time,” said my dad. “Enough is enough. This is absurd.”
“Coming!” I yelled. “I swear!”
“Now!” my dad yelled back.
“I can’t believe this!” I screamed. “I’m not doing anything wrong!”
“Hurry up!”
I stared down at the phone, my heart pounding. My parents were really getting on my nerves, but if I didn’t get out of there, I was going to lose my phone privileges. I quickly typed out one last text.
I didn’t say I still liked Nareem. I said he was a great boyfriend. LOL! G2G
I hit send.
Then I unlocked the bathroom door, walked by my parents with a smile, went into my room, and lay down on my bed.
My parents stood at the doorway and watched me.
“We just think it’s getting too much,” my mom said, quietly.
I stared at the ceiling. “What’s getting too much?”
“You know,” said my dad.
“You guys don’t understand,” I said. “It’s how kids communicate today. It is. Everyone does it. I told you that.”
My mom took a deep breath. “We do understand,” she said. “That’s what we’re afraid of. It’s kind of communicating, but it’s also not. It’s also hiding behind something. It’s not completely real.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. It’s real to me.”
My phone beeped.
Incoming text.
I didn’t move.
“Aren’t you going to get it?” asked my dad.
“No.”
It beeped again.
“Just get it,” said my mom.
“Fine!” I grabbed my phone and looked.
I think this was meant for someone else.
From Nareem.
Huh? I was confused. My first thought was that he’d made the mistake. Then my heart started pounding, and I scrolled up.
I didn’t say I still liked Nareem! I said he was a great boyfriend. LOL! G2G
My mouth suddenly went really dry. I let out a little gasp and started hyperventilating.
I DIDN’T SAY I STILL LIKED NAREEM! I SAID HE WAS A GREAT BOYFRIEND.
LOL!
Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no!!!!!
I meant to send it to Charlie Joe, but sent it to Nareem instead.
Nareem—the absolute nicest, most caring person in the whole world.
I immediately felt like the smallest, lowest person in the whole world.
I felt like dying.
Tears sprang to my eyes. I covered my face with a pillow.
“Noooooooo!”
My parents ran over to me, asking questions. “What is it, honey?” “What’s going on?” “Can we help?”
But I didn’t answer. I just kept crying. Finally I managed to croak out, “Please just leave me alone.”
My mom looked scared. “Please tell us what’s happening, honey.”
“Not right now,” I moaned. “Later I will, I promise.”
My parents looked at each other, then came to a silent decision.
“Okay, sweetheart,” my dad whispered to me gently. “We’ll be back in a little while.”
“A very little while,” I heard my mom whisper to my dad, as they slipped out of the room.
I turned all the lights off in my room and lay down on my bed for hours. My breathing slowly returned to normal. My parents came back every few minutes, but I couldn’t talk to them. Finally, I started to calm down, as my horror turned to sadness, and embarrassment, and then complete exhaustion.
I wrote the lyrics to my first song.
Then I cried myself to sleep.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I had just sent my last text.