Booked

Chapter 10 | Add a Social Life to Your Wish List

I made a lot of mistakes whenever I listened to Mom.

When I was seven, she got me to see a therapist for my nightmares. Two sessions later, I had a meltdown and missed a month of school. Last time I ever cried.

Many more instances twirled incomplete circles around my brain, revisiting clips of babysitting, camping trips, trying out for varsity teams, and all the accidents associated with them.

They were apparently not enough to teach me the reasonable lifelong principle of tuning out Mom's advice. Her proximity was bringing back the bad habits I thought I had grown out of.

That was what lingered in the back of my mind when I found myself at a coffee shop in the evening when Ace invited me to join him and Emma.

I was planning on refusing the offer as I always did on reflex when I was worn out—and when I didn't—but Mom had a better idea.

"You're just planning on working on homework tonight, right?" she had asked, the scheming neurons in her brain working overtime.

Naturally, I fell right into the trap. "Yeah, I have to work on a French presentation for next week."

"Well, you know, my French is pretty good from the years your Dad and I spent there trying to open up our company to an international level."

I must have been the most clueless person in history because I still hadn't understood where this was going. "So?"

"So, I could give you a hand with your presentation," she said, a matter-of-fact tone that seemed to express concern at my apparent lack of discernment abilities.

"Why would you do that?" I asked, eyeing her, suspicious of her motives. She had been emphasizing that I get my own work done without her and Dad's help since elementary school. This wasn't the right time for regression.

Mom leaned back on the couch, closed the book she had been reading, and removed her reading glasses to fully turn to me. I could almost sense the smoke in her head from the hard work of planning the rest of my life.

"Because I want to help, of course. And, also because it would give you one less excuse not to go out tonight."

I scoffed. "Mom, I don't know if you've noticed, but I am drowning in things to do."

"So what? College is a busy time. Add a social life to your wish list for the year."

One annoying detail about my mom she still hadn't dusted off was that, once she thought she was right, it wasn't much trouble to convince everyone to agree.

"Kelly," she said, and I sighed at the speech I could sense was coming. "You need to have some things on your planner that make you happier. Can you honestly say that you have a balanced schedule? You're a junior—you'll graduate soon. You'll never get back that time to be around your friends. Do you think you guys will be as close when you all find yourselves in a different corner of the world? Take advantage of the time. Multitask or something."

I didn't think she understood that if I added one more activity to the ones I was already juggling, they would all turn against me and smack me in the face.

Yet, some part of me still considered it long enough to side with her. Adding one more thing to the stack that already dangerously leaned to the side couldn't hurt.

So, I joined them at their hangout that evening at the coffee shop we found our senior year.

It had a reputation for being the most chaotic coffee shop in Raleigh. The atmosphere at "Coffee Hideout" constantly changed to accommodate the various special events it held.