“CYNTHIA,” DAD SAID. “We have something to discuss.”
I hated when Dad called me “Cynthia.” When Ashley did it, it was kind of cute. When Dad did it, it meant I was in trouble. The last time he referred to me by my full name was when I had barricaded Britt in her closet for three hours because she was by far and away the most annoying person in the entire universe, and then she somehow broke free and came sobbing to Dad, telling him that she was a shattered person and scarred for life—and I got called “Cynthia.”
“Britt, why don’t you go upstairs and do your homework,” Dad said.
“I don’t have any homework,” Britt said. “Anyway, I think I should be part of this.”
“Part of what?” I asked.
“The discussion we’re going to have about your recent behavior,” Britt replied. “The incident at school today, with the principal. What happened at the dump on Saturday. You’re doing it with Kevin Malloy.”
“What are you talking about!” I yelled. “And how do you know all of this?”
“See?” Britt said, with that awful little smirk on her hideous dweeb face. “I told you she was doing it with him!”
“Shut up!” I threw a pillow from the couch at her. “Dad!”
“Britt!” Dad said. “To your room. Now!”
“You can run but you can’t hide!” Britt sneered, as she ever-so-slowly inched her way out of the living room.
“Oh my God! You are such a ...”
“Girls!” Dad said, his voice rising a notch. He waited for Britt to exit. “Cynthia, we need to talk about . . .”
“Britt, I know you’re sitting at the top of the stairs!” I yelled. “Dad said go to your damn room!”
Dad let out a long sigh, similar to the sigh Principal Miller had let loose when I was in his office earlier in the day. It wasn’t even dinnertime and it had already been a two-adult-sigh day.
“I’m not doing it with Kevin Malloy,” I said. “Seriously, Dad, we’ve only had one date. What kind of a girl do you think I am?”
“You’ve gone on a date with him?” Dad asked.
“Well, it was more like a thingamabob.”
Dad looked confused. “And where was this?”
“At the recycling station.”
“At the recycling station? We have a recycling station?”
“She means the dump!” Britt yelled from the top of the stairs.
“Shut up, Britt!” I yelled back. “I’m not doing it with him, Dad. I like him. I like him a lot. But give me a little credit here.”
“I saw you making out with him in the driveway after school,” Britt yelled.
“Oh my God, Britt!” I screamed. “You’re spying on me? Really? Are you serious?”
“It was impossible not to!” Britt yelled back. “I could hear the slurping noises even with the television on!”
“What did I say about watching TV after school!” Dad yelled.
“Good God, Dad, just let her come down. The whole neighborhood can hear us. And we’re going to get hoarse from yelling.”
Before Dad could sigh again Britt was back on the couch, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.
“I just don’t know how comfortable I am with this,” Dad continued. “You’re fifteen years old. Fifteen. I’m not sure that you should be making out with boys in the driveway at fifteen.”
“Dad. Please. It’s not boys. It’s a boy. Kevin Malloy. You know him. I’m not going to do anything stupid. There have been two girls in my grade who have already dropped out this year because they’re pregnant.”
“Soon to be three,” Britt added.
“Who else?” I asked.
“Nancy Garlock. She just found out.”
“Terrific!” Dad said. “How reassuring. I feel so much better now.”
“Dad!” I said. “Relax. The point is this. Number one: I am not doing it with him. Making out is not doing it. Number two: I don’t plan on doing it with him anytime soon. Number three: if or when I do, you can bet I’m going to be using protection. I know how it works, Dad. I know about birth control. I’m not stupid.”
“Of course you’re not,” Dad said. “I just worry. Boys are boys and, well, boys are . . .”
“Horny,” Britt said.
I put my hands over my eyes. I could not believe I was having this conversation.
“Enough of this,” I said. “On to the next subject.”
“I get it, Dad. I really do. If and when I decide, and it will be me not him deciding, that I am ready, I’ll be careful. Can we please change the subject?”
“Why don’t you just sext him?” Britt asked.
“Britt!” I said. “How do you know all of this stuff? She’s the one you’re going to have to worry about, Dad. Not me. Just wait till she gets her period. You’ll be totally screwed then!”
Dad slumped over, put his face in his hands, and scrunched his knuckles into his eyes.
“This is, like, the most awkward conversation ever,” I said, curling into the fetal position on the couch. “Can we please move on!”
“No way!” Britt said. “We’re nowhere near done!”
Dad sighed yet again as he straightened back up. “I got a call from Principal Miller today. Looks like you’ve made some pretty nasty enemies out there. Those two boys seem like very scary individuals.”
“Assholes. Bastards.”
“And I also heard about what happened at the dump on Saturday.”
“Wow, Dad, is there anything you don’t know about me?”
“I know you care very deeply about this mountaintop removal issue, Cyndie.”
Thank God he was calling me “Cyndie” again. The “Cynthia” thing was creeping me out.
“And I’m proud of you for that,” he continued. “I really am. But I honestly think you need to reconsider this whole thing, given some of the recent events that have happened. I will not have you putting yourself into dangerous situations. You know and I know that there are people in this town who are not very happy with your activism. Environmentalism is a dirty word around here.”
“Too bad mountaintop removal isn’t.”
“Well, it is what it is. Whether you like it or not.”
“What are you saying, Dad? What are you telling me?”
“I’m saying that it makes sense to tone it down a little. You’re fifteen. You don’t need to move so quickly. Let the adults deal with this. It’s a complicated issue, sweetheart.”
“Oh, nowww I get it. Let the adults deal with it. That makes so much sense, Dad. What a relief. That is such good advice!”
Dad looked confused again.
“Well,” he stammered. “I’m glad you think so.” Dad was like Ashley, completely clueless when it came to sarcasm.
“I totally think so, Dad. I mean, look at the wonderful job you adults have done with this so far. You’ve blown the tops off of, what is it, 500 mountains? Blown them up, Dad. KABOOM! They’re gone forever and they’re not coming back. Wow! What an awesome job. And you’ve polluted how many rivers with toxic waste? How many new cases of cancer? Mom would be so pleased to know about that one, wouldn’t she? I bet she’s up in heaven right now, sitting in the cloud bleachers, yelling, ‘Go, guys, go! Blow up another one for me!’ You shut down drinking water for the entire state capital in Charleston for how many days when the slurry dam broke? The water is still probably unsafe to drink! And all of this so we can burn the effin coal to fry the planet? You’re right, Dad. You are so right! I’m so happy with how you adults are running things. I really am. I’m so pumped about my future! Killer storms. Rising sea levels. Drought. Wildfires. Less food. More terrorism. And my favorite place in the whole world turned into a wasteland! Wow, Dad, thank God for the adults. You’re doing such an awesome job handling the effin world the way that you are.”
I had emerged from the fetal position and had been pacing the room the entire time while I went off like this. All the while, Dad had sat there in stunned silence. Even Britt was quiet.
Totally spent, I collapsed on the couch and brought my voice back to normal.
“No offense, Dad. By adults I didn’t mean you.”
“Is that a compliment?” he asked.
“Damn,” Dad said.
“Damn what?”
“Damn it. I’m never going to be able to retire, now.”
“What are talking about?” I asked.
“The way you argue I’m going to have send you to law school. That’s four years of college, then three more years to get your legal degree. Think of the cost. I don’t want you burdened with a huge debt, so I’ll never be able to retire.”
“Is that a compliment?” I asked, snuggling up next to him, putting my arms around him, and resting my head on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he said. “But I still think . . .”
“Dad,” I interrupted. “I will be careful. I promise. About boys and about mountaintops. But I am going to do what I have to do. And you’ll know everything that’s going on because somehow, the snoopity-snoop that she is, Britt will find out and I’m sure she’ll tell you.”
“She’s right,” Britt said. “I will.”
“You could tell me, too,” Dad said.
“I could,” I said.
“Not everything, but some of the stuff I would like to know. I really would.”
“Deal. Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” Dad asked.
“Kevin Malloy and I are getting married. I’m going to be a child bride!”
“What?” Dad leapt up.
“Chill, Dad! I’m kidding!”
Not for the last time, Dad breathed in deep and sighed even deeper.