My mother loved this and as much as I hated it, it was not worth starting trouble. My mother grabbed the book and held it in her hands; it shined and looked cleaner than ever. Unlike other people, my mother kept all of my childhood scrapbooks on display on the shelf leading to the basement, instead of picture frames.

“Did you enjoy making all of these?”
And without a response she just gave me a smile with rosy cheeks that made me cringe inside. I knew that she did love them and that when I was gone she would look at them everyday, reminiscing.

But without a second to ponder these thoughts I put a smile on my face and looked through the pictures to make sure she did not catch me feeling distant.

The first picture the book opened to was me at my 6th birthday party. There were plenty of pictures of the characters we had hired, such as Cinderella who played with my cousins and I. And then there was the cake my mother has especially ordered that read, “Happy 6th Birthday Elizabeth”. Although, I looked happy and effervescent, there was something missing. There were no pictures of my friends or signs that I even had friends there…

“Who was at this party” I asked to my mom nonchalantly, as she kept flipping through the pages.

“Just your cousins.” With a slight pause but with tension in her lips that you knew she was not done talking. “And I think the neighbor next door. You remember how her mother was so nosy, she saw me setting up and asked what was going on, so I felt obligated to invite her daughter.

Inviting a neighbor to a party was something my mother had never done after or before my sixth birthday. She liked everything to be very family oriented and for my attention to be focused on everything she had done with no distractions. Even on her birthday she would not want any family to come over just my father and I watching her open presents and eat dinner. My father and I had to provide her with all of our attention for everything.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My childhood was like a television series that seemed too scripted out to be real. From the outside my family looked perfect. My mother was the PTA president and came to every function and set up for every activity night; while my dad went on all the class field trips. But every time I think back, I always wonder where something went wrong? Why had my mother always kept me away from the world and getting to know it?
One night I remember my home phone ringing and my mother answer, “Oh, she’s not home right now sweetie, she will have to play with you some other time.” And never did she once come to my room to tell me the phone rang for me. At some point they must have caught on and stopped calling for me.

As I could feel my face become sunken in and tired from looking at pictures that brought me to a lonely place, I said to my mom, “I think I’m going to go upstairs and take a nap before we go out for dinner.” She just looked at me for a while and finally said, “Okay honey. We’re leaving at 5 I will get you up at 4.”

I turned and walked up my wooden stairs that I had once slipped down running to the Christmas tree; the stairs I would no longer have to walk up once I left for good in a little over a month.

Just as I had fallen to a slumber, there came the knock that had woken me up every day since kindergarten. My father’s light but powerful three taps.

“Mom wanted me to get you up. We’re leaving in an hour,” and just as he turned his back to my room, he faced me and said, “I’m really proud of you honey. Whatever happens in your future involving yourself and your mother and I, I will always love you.”

With the town being what seemed to be 1,000 sq feet anywhere you went, you were bound to see someone you “knew”. We went to the towns best and only restaurant, Strobbs Sea Food, and when we walked in, who was there? Yes. The whole graduating class. But that was nothing new and almost predictable. Before graduating I had asked my mom if we could try somewhere new and she said, “Why? Isn’t Strobbs your favorite?” I did not want to let her down, but it was her favorite, and every time we went there I would rave about how much I loved it. That way, she would be happy with me that night.

“Hi, I’m Daniel and I’ll be your waiter tonight, can I get you some drinks to start with?”
And before anyone could get a word in my mother responded, “Three unsweetened iced- teas, please.”

I was getting my usual dinner, a hamburger with lettuce and mayonnaise on the side. It was the first meal I had ever gotten out to eat when I was in 6th grade. We were forced to go out because my grandmother wanted to celebrate my accomplishment of winning the spelling bee. I guess my mother then realized it was not a big deal if the family went out once in a while; we did not have to always be cooped up inside our house around the kitchen.

Just as the waiter graciously walked over with our food I realized something. He was not just our waiter. He was the boy that saw me crying in the hallway because I got a bad grade (a B+) and was scared to go home and show my mother. She had always told me that if I did not get all A’s on my report card, I would not get into college.

In the hallway he came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder and asked me why I had been crying. When I finally realized someone was talking to me and not just someone, a guy, I wiped my eyes and did one big sniffle (what was I thinking? Ew!) and said, “I got a B+ in science and now I’m not going to get into college and my mom is going to yell at me.” And he said something like, “mmm... Yeah that does suck” (suck was a bad word back then and if you said it you were bound to be cool). In sixth grade what else was there to say? What startled me the most at that age was that a boy, a boy, was talking to me. It kind of made me feel special, but that feeling soon was beside the point because I still had to go home at the end of the day.

To this day, never have I ever said, “I’m crying because my mom is going to ground me”. During classes I had always heard stories about kids getting grounded because they talked back or got bad grades and their punishment would be that they could not go out with their friends for the weekend. I guess I never had that problem.

During the dinner we had our usual banter back and forth about nothing really. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw her. Melanie Gladd. The girl who changed my life last weekend. I turned my jet-black hair to face the back of her, the last thing I needed was for her to come over. My mother would not appreciate her ear piercings and her hair that was golden brown with ends bleach blonde. To my mother this kind of girl would be “a bad influence.” Thankfully Melanie went into the other dining room just as our check arrived.

When we arrived home I took my flat shoes off and wiped them on the mat. My family proceeded after me and when I entered the family room that had two presents and cards awaiting me on the coffee table. I waited for my parents to come too, and I sat on the mesh brown carpet- Indian style, and began to open the cards. First there was the pink envelope that was scented with my mother’s ocean breezy perfume and read: To My Beautiful Daughter. Classic, she used this line on every card. I opened it up and found the standard Hallmark greeting and then my mothers words, “Good luck in the future honey. You have been the best daughter I could ask for. You have kept me company and we have shared the best mother- daughter bond there is. I know you will go far in whatever you do. Now everything is up to you, just don’t forget where your home is. The door is open and I hope that you come home often so we can watch movies and talk. That way it will be like you never left. And if you do come home, I may throw in a few extra dollars a week ;)” In my head I rolled my eyes but smiled on the outside as I read it. I never wanted to let my mother down, but I knew that I would never be home.

Next was my father’s card. He always could pick out the most heart wrenching, meaningful, and true card. His envelope just read: “ELIZABETH” in his all capital letter handwriting. After the standard greeting that was very true, there was my father’s handwriting with the message, “Liz, with you gone I am going to be lost. Even if we may not talk as much as your mother and I, I know we have a special bond. Your company and face can brighten my day. I can be to your school in less than 30 minutes, nothing bad will ever happen to you. I love you and know you don’t need any luck. Do not make the same mistake as me, do what you love. Love, Dad”. I could not hold in my tears and the stream ran down my face.

My father had never written anything like that to me. He was the quietest yet meaningful guy I had ever met. I knew what he meant about his mistake. Not to fall into a place where your voice means nothing.

That night I went up to my room and fell to my bed. High school was over and almost everything had passed me by. What was senior prom? The homecoming football game? A lunch table full of friends? Or even what a high school party was like? That I did know a thing or two about.

Last weekend Melanie, the girl I had seen from the corner of my eye at the restaurant, took me out for the first time. I had met her in my Psychology class when my teacher paired us together to be partners, and she asked me so many questions about my life- I guess she took a liking to me. But she was not one to show her true feelings. I would act all bubbly while she sat there quiet and would respond with answers like, “Sure” or “That’s nice” nothing to ever keep the conversation rolling, but she must have been taking in every word I said very closely. She gave off the look as a rebel and sort of a “Goth”. Little did I know she hung out with all of the blondes and had died her hair to be “different”.

Once our class was coming to a halt she told me how much we needed to hangout, and of course I just nonchalantly bobbed my head and said “Yeaaaah”, but really in my head I knew I could never go out and what was I going to tell my mother I was doing? Going to the library on a Friday night till 12’ o clock? Anyways, we exchanged numbers and I thought that it was just a polite gesture... until the unthinkable happened.

My phone was sitting on my night stand when I heard it beep, not to mention it was Friday at 8’ o clock pm and I was already in my pajamas. My phone never went off and the only time I had ever truly used it was to text my parents when I got to school, (my dad never made him text him, just my mom).

The text read, “Hey girl, if you’re not doing anything tonight I am having a party. Let me know if you want the details!”

My stomach filled with butterflies. It was the first time I had ever been invited anywhere. A feeling I had never experienced before, a feeling as though I made it. I was four years late, but it was better than nothing. At that I moment I knew I needed to go.

I texted her back with, “Yah sure what time is it? I’m not sure I have a ride tho. :(“ As soon as I hit the send button I began to think oh my god I sent a sad smiley? Really? Is that acceptable or weird? How would I know! Seconds later she texted back with “10’ o clock I can pick u up at 9 if you need a ride. If not I live @ 22 West Reimer Drive. Let me know!!”

I had never done anything wrong and just once in my life I wanted to do something! I did not just want to sit in my bed and watch the Friday night special of “Are you smarter than a fifth grader.” That’s when I knew.

I started with, “a ride would be great! I live at 24 Estonia Lane. Thank you!!” Really I lived at 18 Yeller Lane, but I knew that it would not be far to walk to the other street and that it would be a less of a chance of my mom catching me. I would go down to my parents in my pajamas and say goodnight and shut all the lights off in my room. Although my mother was over protective she knew better than to disturb my sleep so she would never come in. I would open the windows and climb down to the awning above my back deck and from there I would be able to jump to the grass, with much luck.

But before all the scheming and sneaking out could occur I needed to plan out an outfit. I did not want to seem like a total dummy and ask what I should wear. Not that I would have anything similar to what the other girls would be wearing. I found my tightest pair of jeans and threw on one of my camisoles that would only be acceptable for under a shirt of mine, but for this event I figured it would be fine. I added a touch a pink with my flat gladiator sandals that I had only worn once because my mother was not the biggest fan of them and wore my hair wavy. I felt good.

Then came the moment when I would defy my mother and if she ever found out, I would be long gone.

My night played out like a bad horror film. While I made it to the party safe and sound, without my mother catching me, I thought the rest of the night would be just as great. But I should have known from the start that when Melanie was friends with the blondes, she was not as sweet as she seemed.

As we pulled into her mile- long driveway the clock struck 9:30. Melanie’s house was all stone and four times the size of mine. When we entered everything was organized and looked as though it had never been touched and catalogue perfect.

But if I thought the down- stairs was nice I would be mistaken when I entered her bedroom; bright orange walls- with hot pink carpet and a vanity and flat screen television hanging on the wall. A room right out of the Pottery Barn Teens Catalog. Just then, she opened the doors to her closet. It was a closet that was like another room filled with couches, designer brand clothes, dressers and ceiling-to-floor mirrors. Any girl’s dream.

“Do you want me to give you a top to borrow and do your make- up for you?” Melanie stared me up and down and from the look in her eye I knew that saying no was not acceptable. But before I could even respond she threw me a black tube top and told me to throw it on. Once I put it on I actually thought it looked pretty good and that Mel had the best intentions for me.

Her basement lead to the out- side and that is how the wall-to-wall people entered. I sat on the couch looking around like a tourist in a foreign land. I knew no one.

But just then a boy with sandy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes sat down next to me. Of course being myself, I just sat there with my hands folded in my lap and pursed my lips together. He must have been shy too because it took him five minutes of silence to say something.

“So, you’re friends with Mel?” He said in a husky voice.
“Yah but this is my first time at one of her parties,” I said in a shy- innocent voice.
“Yeah I’ve never seen you here. What’s your name?” as he inched closer to me
For a second I thought, was Elizabeth to babyish? With that I said, “Liz”.

The conversation went all night and he brought me drink after drink. Most of the night was a blur after my fifth drink.

…. And that was when I woke up the next morning in my vomit at 4: 30 a.m. with no clothes on in a bed. Tears streamed down my face because I had no idea what had happened to me. Before anyone else could see me I wiped my body with the sheets and threw on a pair of gym shorts and a tee shirt that were not mine and ran out of the house.
My head spun with the combination of humidity, bright sun and hangover, something I had never experienced before. Needless to say, I kept squinting and wandered the streets with bare feet that began to get torn up from the gravel and rocks that I kept accidentally stepping on, because of my lack of vision. I walked down out of the neighborhood and all I could think about was getting home in time before my mother would awake. When just then, my father pulled aside me and rolled down the window.

“Get in” were his only words. With a sigh of relief and a sense of embarrassment and fear I got in the car, not saying a word.

“Your mom is still sleeping,“ he said almost as if he knew that was the only thing on my mind. Those words put my stomach to ease.

The whole rest of the way home was silence. And my mother never found out about that night.

When we returned to school I thought know one would remember what they saw or thought- that I was alone the whole night in a bedroom, but I was mistaken. News traveled fast around school and supposedly I had slept with the quarterback of the football team who was one of Melanie’s best friend’s ex- boyfriend. The word around school was that I came on to him. At this time I still have no clue and that day all I felt was embarrassment and betrayal.

Supposedly Melanie started the rumor that I had been obsessing over Chad (the quarterback) in class and that’s why she felt “compelled” to invite me to her party. When really I knew she was too embarrassed to tell everyone that I was her friend. But it was and still is clear to me: we were never true friends.

I guess only time can tell whether past issues come back to haunt someone. Wish me luck in college.