Right as I finish my homework, and I’m about to settle into bed, Mom knocks on the door, hard. “Desert, open up.”
Yikes. She hasn’t come out of her room since she got home with Marie, but now she wants to talk to me? As I’m about to doze off? Super timing. I hope it’s nothing major. I have to get up early for school tomorrow.
“Come in, it’s unlocked!” I shout across the room.
The door opens, and there stands my mom, ponytail all limp, loose hair strands around her face, dark circles under her eyes. I would’ve expected her to look this way tomorrow, considering they’re about to have an all-night rehearsal with J. C., but now?
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Desert, what’d you do today?”
Ugh. The question. It means she knows the answer, she’s just giving me a head start before hunting and shooting me down. How does she always figure me out?
“Um…went to the beach with Becca?” No more, no less.
“Oh, yeah?” she asks with a hint of sadness, like she’s yet to see the beach since we moved.
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
She leans onto the door frame and sighs. “Des, honey, listen. There’s a lot going on right now with the recording and all…your father’s stressed, I’m stressed.”
I remember Dad and J. C. earlier today, giggling at the G-string Wonder, looking anything but stressed. “He is? He didn’t look it this afternoon.”
“Desert, I don’t care how he looked or anything you might’ve seen, okay. All I came to tell you was I have enough going on right now, between the sessions, the move, the paparazzi, the hiring of new help, promoters who are still hassling me about last year’s deals, Marie going home for a couple of weeks—”
“Marie left? In the middle of recording?”
She goes on, ignoring me, “Without having to find sand in your father’s car, along with this!” She flings my scrunchie at me.
Oops.
“Hey, my scrunchie! Where’d you find it?” I ask all innocent, smiling my fakest smile ever.
She points a finger at me and starts wiggling it around. “Drop the act, okay? The next time I find out you’ve taken that car, any car, with or without a license, without my permission, you can forget about getting one for your birthday. Do you hear me?”
Do you hear me? God, I hate when she says that! Of course I hear you, how stupid! I have to remember never to ask my kids that question when I’m a parent. But hey, if this is all the punishment I’m getting, I’ll happily comply. “Yes, Mom,” I force out.
“Good,” she growls. “Good night.”
“Good night.” Door closes.
That’s it? How totally weird! That wasn’t too bad. I guess she really does have a lot on her mind.