“I THINK I’M GONNA TELL McButterpants he’s taking me shopping for my birthday this year,” Averie tests, smiling into the shelf of emoji stress balls and grabbing one to check its durability. She tosses it back, deciding against purchase.
Averie took more of a liking to Mason than I originally thought. However, Mason is not taking her shopping. Not only because he wouldn’t have the time, or the desire, to spend a Saturday afternoon cruising the mall with a new teenager, but because I won’t let him.
Two weeks have passed without a word. Two long, torturous weeks since I knocked on his door, bursting in with all my frustration, to be sent back home with nothing for it.
“Honey, you know he’s busy,” I express, looking around the store to find the group of teens we saw earlier gathering near the counter of costume jewelry.
My nerves have been on edge since we first walked in.
My initial concern was the crowd of teenagers standing outside the front door. All wearing black clothes and heavy makeup, and those were the boys. The girls were much the same, but worse. When they noticed my daughters walking in at my side, they whispered and scowled.
I’ve also felt eyes on us. Someone watching from afar maybe. I’ve never felt unsafe shopping. But today, for whatever reason, I regret the attempt at girl time.
“He won’t be too busy if I tell him not to be busy,” Averie insists, moving on to a basket of pens, erasers, and writing pads filled with colorful paper.
“Grow up, Averie,” Amelia snaps, as she walks to a shelf of screen-printed tee shirts. Mindlessly thumbing through a few, she says, “You met Cole twice. Hardly enough time to ask him for a favor. Guys like him don’t shop.”
“But Cole likes me,” Averie challenges.
“Cole doesn’t know you…” Amelia replies on an eye-roll. “Obviously.” She scoffs and asks, “Have you seen his clothes? He doesn’t shop at the mall, Averie.”
“Rude,” Averie utters, irritated.
Amelia ignores her sister’s frustration and includes, “You’d be better off asking Dad to take you on your stupid shopping trip this year.”
“Dad’s gonna be gone for my birthday,” Averie complains. “And besides, Dad hates shopping, too.”
“Cole probably has a date that weekend anyway,” Amelia puts out.
My eyes slam shut hearing Amelia point out what’s likely true.
“He won’t,” Averie argues.
“How ignorant are you?” Amelia triggers back. “Cole’s hot. No way he won’t have plans.”
“But it’s my thirteenth birthday,” Averie declares.
“And why would you think a guy like him cares about how old you are?”
Again, shrugging off her sister’s mood, Averie gives, “Everyone cares about birthdays.”
Rolling her eyes, Amelia mutters, “God, you’re immature.”
“Why are you so mean?” Averie snaps, tossing a pen back in its basket and throwing visual daggers at her sister. “Is Aunt Flo in town or what?”
“Enough,” I call sternly.
Amelia walks away, irate for no reason other than she’s fifteen and confused. Her body is changing, her friends aren’t true, and her family is under duress. She feels it.
And it’s my fault.
Thomas is gone and she’s rebelling in the only way a girl her age knows how. She’s putting her stress and dislike for the world in a safe place. On us—her family. Those who will love her without hesitation or conditions.
But damn it’s tiring.
Averie turns to me and quietly asks, “Mom, what’s her problem?”
Running my hand down Averie’s concerned expression, I explain, “When you’re her age, you’ll act out in the same way.”
“Ha!” she cries. “When I’m Amelia’s age, I’m gonna do whatever I want.”
Oh, the naïveté of being young.
“I guess we’ll talk about that when the time comes.”
“Mom!” Amelia calls from a distance.
When I turn to her voice, my well-dressed, usually well-mannered, daughter is standing with another girl who looks about her age. Yet, this girl is wearing far less clothing than I’d ever allow either of my own to be caught around the house in.
“Hi,” I get out with surprise as the two head our way.
Is her new friend’s hair purple?
“This is Zodiac,” Amelia introduces. “That’s what people at school call her.”
Zodiac lifts her chin in lieu of a proper verbal greeting.
Lovely.
“Well, hello, Zodiac,” I test the name and am relieved to hear my tone come as even and not sarcastic.
“You can call me Zoe,” Zodiac replies, still an actual greeting. “That’s what parents usually call me.”
As I take in what’s in front of me, Averie comes to my side, stops swiftly, and does the same. Her small gasp doesn’t go unnoticed, and for that, Amelia narrows her eyes to keep Averie quiet.
Zoe is dressed in all black. From her hair tie to her motorcycle boots, beneath a straight black cotton skirt. Her shirt has a small mix of purple matching her hair that yes, is actually purple.
Where in the world are her parents?
Amelia senses my hesitation and steps in between us. “So, Zoe’s having a party tonight and I was wondering if I could go?”
“A party?” I query. “Will this party be at her house?”
“Yeah,” Amelia answers.
“Yes, not yeah,” I correct. “Will her parents be home?”
Zoe scoffs.
Amelia’s eyes grow wide as she snaps, “Mom!”
“My parents are in London for two weeks. They said I could have friends over,” Zoe adds.
Without caring if her parents aren’t home or why, and not caring what they give her permission to do or not do, I stand straight and tell Amelia, “Then no. You aren’t going.”
Another gasp comes from Averie as Zoe pulls out her cell phone. Her fingernails are painted black. Which considering that’s the only color she’s wearing, they match nicely.
“Why can’t I go?” Amelia argues. “You always say you trust me.”
“I do, honey. But this party will have no adult supervision.”
“I have unsupervised parties all the time,” Zoe chimes, her tone bored as she uses her thumb to flip through the programs on her phone.
“That’s good, Zoe,” I reply, barely holding back all I’d like to add which would be….
Your clothes are ridiculous.
Your makeup is too dark.
Your demeanor isn’t only rude, it’s absurd.
Looking down at Amelia’s state of annoyance, I tell her, “But my answer is still no.”
“Mom, please!” she argues. “You aren’t going to consider this?”
“Amelia,” I warn.
“What do you care if I go?” she counters.
“What do you mean, what do I care?”
“Are you serious?” she hisses.
I’m not only serious, I’m also confused.
“Sweetheart, talk to me,” I voice low.
Is that wall ‘cause her dad’s never home?
“You don’t pay attention anymore!” she shrieks. At this, Averie wraps her hand in mine and Zodiac looks up from her phone to smile.
Bitch.
Amelia marches on, taking two steps away from her new friend. “You don’t talk to any of us anymore,” she accuses.
“Not true,” Averie prevails. “Mom talks to me all the time.”
“Shut up. You’re a kid. You don’t know shit.”
“Amelia Terese! What’s gotten into you?” I question, noting but not caring we’re quickly gaining a teenage audience.
Your girl Amelia has something on her mind.
“You, Mom! You’re here, and you’re home, but you’re really not.”
Whatever it is, she’s having a hard time gettin’ her head around it.
Disappointed, she calms and adds an uttered, “Ryan will be there.”
Averie, being who she is, can’t help but grab a hold of this. Astonished, she clarifies, “Ryan McCallister?”
Narrowing her eyes, Amelia scolds, “Don’t even talk about him like you know him.”
Averie’s eyes turn to saucers as she replies, “Oh, I do know him, Amelia. Everyone knows Ryan McCallister.”
“Shut up.”
Averie steps forward, questioning, “Will his girlfriend, Chasity, be there too?”
Shit.
“I hate you!” Amelia snaps.
That’s it. We’re done.
“Out!” I yell, my voice pitching. I don’t recognize it as my own.
“I’ll call you and give you the time and address,” Zoe boldly informs, talking to Amelia. She’s also smirking at me as if she didn’t just hear my final answer—repeatedly.
“Right,” Amelia utters on an eye-roll, walking away from all of us.
Once we’ve reached the door to the store, Averie grabs my hand and comforts with, “And you thought me asking McButterpants to take me shopping was going to be the craziest thing that happened today.”
In every way, Averie is right.
And whether I want to admit this or not, Mason was right too. My beautiful daughter is struggling.
I’ve got to find a way to help.