I'm The Geek Who Slapped A Football Player.

17 - Tomato Face

Chapter 17:

 

Heyyyy!! Soo sorry!! Again!! D: I’m bad at deadlines!! Hope you enjoy the chapter and thanks for being patient with me!!!

 

I was surprised at how easily my parents had allowed me freedom.

When I got home and asked them if I could go to the O’Bruman football game, neither of them even set up a fuss. They just asked how long it would take to get there. If I needed gas. When the game started. When I’d get home. Did I have money to pay to get in? For food and drink? Did I have a blanket to bring in case it got chilly? What time I’d get home again?

It was all very weird. They were freakishly calm and very nice and each gave me a hug as I got in the car.

Maybe it was because Scarlett showed up at my house with me.

When Scarlett pulled up to my house and walked in with me, you’d have thought a fucking Mayberry bomb had just exploded in my house and coated everything in SuperSweetlyWeirdFriendlyEverything’s-fucking-fine-and-dandyness juice. And I think I’m allergic to the stuff.

I introduced them to Scarlett, and Scarlett smiled at them looking all normal and friendly and Scarlett-y and shook their hands. Then they did all that weirdly pleasant questioning that I mentioned before. Dad handed me a twenty. Mom put her arm around my shoulder and kindly reminded me to mind my manners. We walked out to Scarlett’s bright blue ’04 Honda Civic and then mom and dad both gave me a hug before I got in the car and then stood in the driveway and waved as we drove away.

To say I was freaking out was an understatement.

“The fuck was that?!” I exclaimed once Scarlett and I were in the car and far enough down the street so that my parents couldn’t see the utterly flabbergasted look on my face. I was half turned in my seat as I gawked back at them over the headrest.

“The fuck was what?” Scarlett asked, not even the slightest bit baffled. She was messing with the buttons on the radio.

“My parents!” I whipped back forward in my seat, readjusting my friggin’ seatbelt. “What the hell’s wrong with them?” They were acting like they were those awfully smiley perfect families in commercials, all white carpets and broad smiles and nondescript yet nice clothes. And my parents are nothing like that. My parents smile very small-like. Mom and Dad were both wearing t-shirts they got when they went to see Bon Jovi in 1983. And our carpet is brown.

“What are you talking about?” Scarlett asked, giving me this confused look. “They seemed fine to me. Really nice.”

“Are you kidding me?!” I gasped. “They were…! They were just…!”

“Being really cool parents and letting you go with a friend they’ve only met once? Seriously Clarisse, most parents would be all ‘who are you and want are you gonna do with my kid?’ when they first meet someone. They were great.”

I frowned, hunching down in my seat, glowering out the windshield. “It was weird though. I’ve never…” I trailed off because I was embarrassed at what I was about to say. Because I was gonna say ‘I’ve never gone anywhere with anyone really,’. Which is embarrassing as hell, because, I’m a fricking senior in high school!!! I should have friends and hung out and done stuff!! (I don’t mean nasty stuff, I mean cool stuff ya pervs! Get your minds outa the gutters!!!).

“Gone to a football game with a friend?” Scarlett supplied casually, yet I could just tell that she knew what I was thinking. She understands that my social skills are more like verbal assault skills.