My parents were waiting for me at the table the moment I got down the stairs. An ambush. I groaned inwardly as my dad gestured to a chair. I sat, knowing from the look on their faces that it was nothing good. “We checked your grades last night”, my dad began, his voice sounding ominous.
“And what did I see?,” he continued, angrily. “This is completely unacceptable! STRAIGHT A’s, HONORS classes, and an A PLUS in English!”
My mom put a hand on his arm. “Calm down honey. Things happen. It’s not all bad. Remember how we got that call last month about her being late to math class?”
“But they called two days later to apologize, because they’d gotten mixed up, and it was really a different Lexa who was late!”, my fathers face got redder.
“What we’re trying to say, Lexa sweetie, is really, live a little! You’re only sixteen once!”, my mom smiled cheerily.
My dad nodded, slightly calmer. “Really! Lexa, you have no life! All I ever see you doing is reading some silly book, or doing your homework! Last week, I saw you reading War and Peace, and now you’re on to Anna Karenina! I didn’t read those until I was in my twenties. And I was forced to! And what’s up with all these depressing books by dead Russian guys? Everyone dies in the end, what’s to like about them?!”.
“But they’re classic literature!”, I exclaimed, surreptitiously shoving my copy of Macbeth into my backpack so they wouldn’t see it.
“Come on, read some Twilight!”, my mom urged. I rolled my eyes.
“Sure mom, suuuure”, I groaned, just to shut her up. I made a mental note to Google Twilight in case she quizzed me, which wouldn’t be a surprise.
“Great!”, my mom beamed. “Here’s a copy. I want chapters one through ten read by tonight, and I’ll rent the movie this Friday!”. I opened my mouth and closed it abruptly, knowing that the excuse of having an Honors Chemistry study session wouldn’t exactly fly with her or my dad. I glared at the offending book as my mom slid it across the table to me.
My dad looked happier. “Lexa, please. Study a little less, have some fun!”.
I gasped. “But dad, I HAVE to study and get good grades, otherwise I’ll never get into an Ivy League college or make it into medical school!”, I cried.
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Not again with that doctor nonsense! That’s boring! You need to DO something with your life! BE someone! Don’t just settle for average!”.
“But it’s a respectable career!”, I tried to plead with them. “It’s a good way to help and give back to the community.”.
My dad waved a hand. “Who cares? There are doctors left and right these days! You’ve got to set yourself apart! Have a life, go out and do something cool! Be a model, be an actress, do something exciting, for once! You’ve got to get out of this boring town and make a name for yourself!”.
I put my head in my hands. “Don’t be rude dear”, my mother chimed in, tapping my shoulder. “Your father only has your best interests in mind”. Yeah right, I thought. Shouldn’t “best interests” be to send your kid to college and make sure they can get a good job?
I stood up. “I’m going to be late”, I announced, even though it was more than an hour until school started, and I’d gotten up early, as usual, so that I could get to class early for some extra study time.
My parents gaped at me. “School isn’t for another hour”, exclaimed my dad, just as my mom went, “Is that REALLY what you’re wearing?!”. I sat back down and smoothed my crisp, white button down blouse, and straightened my skirt.
“What’s wrong with it? I even ironed the shirt!”, I protested, glaring deliberately at my mom.
“That’s exactly the problem? What happened to good old teenage sloppiness?!”, my mom burst out. “What kind of teenager actually IRONS their clothes? And that has to be the most boring outfit I’ve ever seen! Would Lady Gaga ever be caught dead in THAT?!”.
“But mom, pop music is stupid. Who cares about Lady whatever? She may be a hit right now, but Mozart will be around forever.”.
“MOZART?!”, my dad thundered. “Who cares about some dead violinist? ROCK is in! Go listen to some REAL music!”.
I groaned as my mom continued her rant about my outfit. “Seriously, you look just like every other loser on the planet! No one would pick you out of a crowd in THAT! Don’t you want to be an individual?!”. She stood up. “And that ponytail. Are you TRYING to make yourself look as boring as possible? No guy is ever going to go for a girl who looks plain and uptight!”.
I tried again. “But mom, I don’t’ have time to be in a relationship now. I have to study and get ready for my SAT’s, and I don’t need some guy to interfere. Besides, I want to get established before I even consider a relationship.”
“Blah blah blah”, my mother mocked. “AGAIN with the no boyfriend speech! What do you have against guys? Are you a lesbian or something?”.
I took a deep breath. “As I’ve said before, I can’t let any sort of relationship interfere with my plans for the future-“.
“I’ve had enough”, my mom interrupted. She got up and left the table. “You’re not going anywhere looking like THAT”.
My dad started in right where she’d left off. “And you’re too CLEAN, too! You even wash your own dishes and put them away! What kind of OCD neat freak does THAT? And don’t even get me STARTED on your room. It looks like a freaking HOTEL, it’s so neat! How can you live like that? Clutter is natural! Why can’t you be a normal teenager? I’m the only guy in the Golf club who doesn’t complain about their rotten kid all the time!”.
I tried not to laugh. You’d think my parents would be grateful to not have some rebellious teen living under their roof but no. Only THEY would go complain about it like that.
My mom returned then, and I was saved from having to think of a reply. She was carrying an armload of clothes. I stood up again.
“Guys, I really need to get to school…”.
“You can’t leave the house looking like that!”, my mother insisted. She held up a t-shirt to me body, scrutinizing.
“You’re about my size, right? Here, try these on!”, she flung a pair of pants at me, along with a shirt, and as I caught them, I gasped in horror.

“Are those..RIPPED jeans?!”, exclaimed. “Why rip a perfectly good pair of pants like that!”.
My mom rolled her eyes again. “Lexa, it’s all the rage right now…you’ll look great! Now put that stuff on!”.
“So people think it’s hot to look like a bum?”, I muttered to myself, as I reluctantly left the room to put on the jeans, not wanting to be even later to school than I already was.
I tried not to look at myself in the hallway mirror as I went back to the kitchen.
My dad whistled and my mom smiled and clapped as I stepped back in.

“You look great honey! Now maybe you’ll stop wearing those stupid old lady outfits everywhere!”, my dad exclaimed.
I looked down at my shirt.

“But I’ve never heard of this-this…Green Day!”, I protested.

My dad’s face began to turn red.
“YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF GREEN DAY?!?!”, he thundered angrily. I took a step back. My mother put a hand on his back.
“I’m sure Lexa is just kidding, sweetie”, she soothed, shooting me a glare.
I picked up my backpack and headed for the door. I wasn’t stopped this time. I shook my head. “I’m doomed”, I muttered, slamming the door behind me.