Geez was that a long night.

I was trapped in mom-land. Well, my room, actually. But mom was there, and she was in one of those moods. You know, the ‘tell me everything that’s up in your life’ mood.

So I did. Well, not everything, of course. That’d make her head explode. But we talked a lot of stuff – the stuff that I thought she could handle, and a few things that I didn’t mean to tell her, but it just sort of came out.

Anyway, I told her enough.

She seemed sad to hear about Luis and me. I didn’t tell her that I was the one that called it quits. I’ve outgrown him. It’s for the best.

Doesn’t mean I want to do this family dinner thing, though.

Doesnt mean it’s a family dinner, either.

It’s a date. Mom plus mom’s ex equals date.

Still a chance to get out of it, maybe. We’ll see. I can’t try too much, though. Mom’s going to be freaking today, I’m sure.

She doesn’t date too often, but when she does, she kind of freaks.

I have a feeling that dating Bette Porter is going to be the mother of all mother-freaks.

I got up way too early. To try to fix that, I lounged in bed for the next 20 minutes or so with Mr. Goofy Bear. Mom left for her own room last night, late. As I lay there I could hear her, doing laps around the house. Not literally, probably, but she’s clomping around.

No doubt she’s wondering what to wear, how she should do her hair, if her kid along as a fashion accessory or conversation starter. The usual.

Maybe I can still work out a way to get to Jeri’s. I asked her if her mom would be there, and she just laughed. No point in trying to do it the ‘real’ way.

It wasn’t even 11 yet. I wasn’t sure why I was up so early. Most weekends I stay asleep at least until noon.

Must have been the stress building up in the house.

I considered talking to Aunt Shane about doing dreadlocks.

Something tells me that a fine, educated and cultured lady like Ms. Bette Porter don’t want no kids with no dreadlocks.

I wondered if I could have dreads by dinnertime.

I contemplated a trip to the bathroom, but figured I’d check email, instead.

Mistake!

One email from Ms. Bette Porter telling me how she’s looking forward to dinner. Another from Luis saying that we should try things again.

They’re both trying too hard.

It was shower time, anyway. Then time to make an appearance, and see if mom needs me to join in to her all-out-freak-frenzy that I’m sure she’s working on.

When I exited the shower, things were not just as bad as I expected.

They were worse.

Aunt Alice was over, and so was Aunt Shane. They’d parked Uncle Frank out by the pool where he was reading a newspaper.

Maybe I should join him, rather than be surrounded by all the women.

Whatever mom was talking about with her friends, they all shut up when I entered the room. That always makes me feel good.

“Don’t worry, I won’t listen.” I stuck my fingers in my ears. “Lalalalala.”

Then I realized that it was impossible to fix a bowl of cereal that way. Well, at least with the fingers-in-the-ears part. So I took them out and started fixing breakfast. And got stared at for my troubles.

As if they were normal.

“What?” I finally asked.

They all had these looks on their faces. I felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“Are you excited about tonight?” I wasn’t sure why I needed to be, since Aunt Alice seemed excited enough for both of us.

Honestly, I was more excited that my cereal was remaining crunchy in the milk, just like the commercials promised. I shrugged.

Mom brushed my bangs out of my eyes. “Shane’s giving me a trim. Maybe she should trim yours, also.”

“I’m growing it out.”

They all got these weird looks on their faces, and it took a moment, but I think I figured out what they were doing. They were all trying to imagine what I’d look like with Bette Porter’s long hair. “So I can shave it all off and donate it to cancer patients.”

There, that’ll do it. Maybe. “Or maybe I should just shave it now.”

No reaction.

There’s never a reaction when it comes to hair stuff. I found that out after I dyed it green, for the first time.

Mom would probably freak out over a tattoo, or some sort of piercing that would normally be covered by clothes. But she lets me do what I want on the hair stuff.

Sort of takes the fun out of it, unless there’s a bunch of us doing it or something.

My softball team all dyed our hair pink for the championship. Someone on the other team started a rumor that we played like girls. Maybe, but the girls with pink hair kicked their butts in a shut-out series.

“What are your plans for today?” Mom asked, as if she didn’t have her own ideas.

I shrugged again. I really didn’t have any, since I didn’t have a good dinner-avoidance strategy down yet.

“Is your homework done?”

Let’s think on that for a second. I spent all of last night in girl talk. And, this morning, my all important rejuvenating sleep period. Mom, do you think the homework’s done? “Yeah.” It will be, anyway, by Monday morning. That’s what counts, so it’s not like I’m really lying to her or something.

I put the bowl in the sink and rinsed it. “I’m going to go swimming.”

They just watched me as I walked back to my room to get my suit.

They stared at me again as I walked back to the house and headed for the pool.

They are so weird.

The temptation was there to do a cannonball and splash Uncle Frank on the way into the water.

After all, that might get me grounded.

(tbc)