Rules of a Rebel

Chapter 5: Respect Individualism

Rule #27: Respect Individualism

That means no teamwork.

-()-

"So, Peyton," Mom flattens her skirt. "Your gym teacher called me yesterday and he told me something very interesting."

I say nothing, choosing to watch the flakes of my cereal swim around the milk while mom fixes me with an intent stare. I think I've lost my appetite. Melody, who's busy gobbling down a piece of toast, pauses for a second and then resumes her meal.

"Peyton. Look at me."

I look at her.

Although she's annoyed, my mom is the epitome of beauty. Her eyes still manage to sparkle when she glares at me, her lips are still the same bright shade of red when they curve down to scowl and her voice still seems melodic, even with the words she says.

"How long did you think you go on ditching gym without me finding out?"

I shift my eyes away and shrug.

"I thought we had settled on some agreements," Mom tells me, crossing her legs. "You'd make new friends, you'd go out more often and you'd wouldn't cause any trouble when you go to school. Is that really a difficult task?"

For some people, sure.

"I do go out more often," I lie, picking at my nails. "And I do have friends. Besides gym, I haven't been doing anything from wrong."

Melody makes a small sound from the back of her throat. With my eyes, I warn her not to say anything about the three detentions I've got already. So what if I stapled a kid's hand because making rape jokes? Melody shakes her hand and continues munching on her third pop tart.

"The only time you go out is for school or work. And tell me, Peyton, what friends do you have - besides those ones back in Illinois?"

A spark of annoyance ignites within me. Before I can come up with a retort, Melody interrupts. She's finally finished her breakfast. "Hey, mom. Did you get those fifties dresses for the barbecue yet?"

Thankfully, mom's attention turns away from me. "Actually, yes. I got them yesterday. They're in the closet - why don't you get them Melody?"

Melody jumps up from her chair. I shoot her a thankful look as she passes by me to get the two boxes. But as soon as she's out of earshot, mom crosses her arms and stands right in front of me so that I can't look at anything but her.

"What?" I snap.

"You're going to gym today. Or the deal is off."

"Fine."

"Alright then. That's all I wanted to say."

No, I think, clenching my hands into fists. You wanted to make me feel inferior by digging in the fact that I have no friends because I embarrassed you with that phone call.

We glare at each other.

"Is the bigger one mine?" Melody demands, strutting back into the room. "I hope not - the really poufy ones are disgusting. Did you get the knee-length ones? Those are really pretty. I wish I had gone shopping, that way I got to choose..."

"Alright," Mom takes the larger white box and hands it to me. "This is yours, Peyton. Open it gently - Melody, do not rip the wrapping paper-"

Now that I think about it, maybe letting mom choose my dress for the barbecue wasn't the best idea.

I take the top of the box off, already thinking of ways I could modify it. Maybe I can wear my black tights under it or use my black clothes' dye. I think I have a few bottles left over. After preparing myself for the worst, I take out the dress and hold it out in the light.