Prologue: Part Three

My head is spinning...

I looked over at the clock. It was noon. I had never slept that late, unless I was sick. I usually liked getting up early and starting my day. What happened last night?

I went downstairs. I needed a glass of water before I even thought about things like showering. And did I ever need a shower.

Ashley was sitting at the bar eating lunch. She gave me a dirty look.

Forgetting our argument the day before, I asked, "What's wrong, Ash?" She ignored me.

My mother walked into the room. "Anna Marie, come to the study."

Uh oh. I just got middle-named. What did I do?

I walked into the study to find my father standing behind his desk. My mother shut the door behind her. Crap. Not good.

 My father cleared his throat. "Well, we let you sleep in after last night's...fiasco, but now I think you owe both of us an apology and an explanation." My mother nodded.

"Erm...uh..." was all I managed to get out.

"Look," my father said, annoyed at my stumbling, "we have been very tolerant of your little painting hobbies, but this 'artsy' lifestyle is starting to have just the effect on you that we feared."

I tried to think of any time that my parents were "tolerant" of my art. No success.

My father continued, his voice raising with each word, "We have a reputation to uphold in this town, dammit, and having our daughter paraded to our front door in handcuffs like some kind of street rat is completely unacceptable!" He slammed his fist down.

I jumped back, startled. My father and I never got along, but I'd never managed to make him this mad before. He was more of a "quiet rage" sort of man, so this sudden outburst was very unexpected and more than a little frightening.

"Dad, I-I'm sorry! I really don't know what happened...I just-"

"We don't want to hear excuses. Just go to your room and don't expect to leave it anytime soon," my mother said, wisely realizing that my father was still too angry to hear anything I had to say.

I walked slowly to my room. I'd never been in this much trouble before, and I couldn't even remember what happened!

Wait a minute. Did he say something about handcuffs? Was I arrested? And it was at that moment that the previous night's events came flooding back to me...

***

I remember the gym looked horrible. It was like they had just picked up some ugly balloons and spread them around. Knowing our school, that's actually probably what they did.

Shark crept behind the buffet line and poured something from a flask into the punch. He offered me a drink.

Against my better judgment, I took it. In my mind, it was time for me to start experiencing life. At 15, experiencing life seems to always equate to breaking the rules.

It didn't stop with just one drink either. I ended up losing count.

With my inhibitions significantly lower, I found myself drawn to the dance floor. Shark and I danced for what seemed like hours, and it felt like everyone was watching us even though I doubt anyone was.

And then there, in the middle of the dance floor, Shark pulled me in for my very first kiss. It was perfect.

By that time, the dance was ending and everyone was going home. The city-wide curfew for minors was in less than an hour, so there was no hanging around. For most, anyway. Shark and I went around to the back of the school and waited for it to clear out. I asked Shark, in between my fits of the giggles, what we were going to do now. He pulled out a carton of eggs from his backpack and ran off toward the nearest neighborhood.

I had my first "egging" experience.

Then the cops showed up. We started running, but I couldn't run very fast in my dress and heels. Shark got away, but the police quickly caught up to me.

The cops drove me home and spoke to my parents. I didn't really hear anything that was said. I simply walked past them and went to bed.

***

No wonder they're so mad at me, I thought. I'd never done anything remotely close to this before. I was embarrassed that I'd gotten caught, but I didn't really feel bad about acting out. That night was the most fun I'd ever had after years of having to "keep up appearances."

"Thinking happy thoughts?" a voice said from the corner of my room.

I screamed.