13 Days Before the Trip, 6:00 p.m.
“They’re fucking making me go!” I scream into the phone. As a rule, I don’t usually say the f-word, but this definitely warrants it.
“Um, okay,” Jocelyn says, sounding confused. “You want to back up a little bit?”
“No, not really,” I say. I throw myself down on my bed and reach over and crank up the AC that’s in my window. I like my room frigid. My parents are always complaining about the electricity bill, but whatever. If they’re going to make me suffer, I can totally make them suffer right back.
“Then I can’t help you,” Jocelyn says simply. I hear voices in the background.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“At the beach,” she says. “With B. J. You wanna come down?”
“No thank you,” I say. Why, why, why would my parents do something like this? Why would they make me still go on this trip? I can kind of understand it from my mom, but my dad? He hates Jordan! I even offered to pay for the plane ticket myself, out of my graduation money, but nooo. The irony of all this is that B. J. and Jocelyn, who should be the poster children for dysfunctional relationships, are going strong. They’re hanging out, cuddling, probably having sex on a beach, while Jordan and I, who NEVER EVEN FOUGHT, are done.
“So what are your parents making you do?” Jocelyn asks.
“They’re making me go on the trip with Jordan! They said it’s too late to get a ticket, and that I need to learn to take responsibility for my actions, and since I planned this trip, I should go.” Saying the words out loud makes me so mad that I start punching the up button on the air conditioner, even though it’s already as high as it can go.
“Are you serious?” Jocelyn says. “Courtney, I’m so sorry.”
“We’ll probably end up killing each other,” I say, still hitting the air conditioner. Bang. Bang. My finger is starting to get a little sore, but for some reason, it’s making me feel better. Maybe just because no more cool air is coming out doesn’t mean the power isn’t going up, therefore making the electricity bill get higher, therefore screwing my parents over.
“Yeah,” Jocelyn says. “You probably will.”
“Thanks a lot,” I say. “I can’t believe they would do something like this to me. I’m only seventeen! Since when am I supposed to take responsibility for my actions?”
“I dunno,” Jocelyn says. “It sucks, but hey, you’ll probably learn a lot.”
“Learn a lot!” I shriek, abandoning the air conditioner and burying my head in my pillow. “Don’t get all deep on me now, Jocelyn.”
“I’m just saying,” she says. “Usually the hard stuff you’re forced to do makes you learn a lot.”
“I don’t want to learn a lot,” I say. “I already know enough.”
“Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” Jocelyn says, and there’s something in her tone of voice that makes me uncomfortable.
