How to Ruin My Teenage Life
Page 32

I will tell you that under the covers was an excellent choice and VERY sababa, although I'm one hundred percent sure my dad does not have any surveillance cameras inside the house tracking our every move. I know this because although my dad came home an hour later and I ran to my room and pretended to be fast asleep, those cameras would have caught Avi and I in some very compromising positions despite our attempt to keep the covers over us.
Oh, don't get all worried...I'm still a pure seventeen-year-old. I'm just...well...more knowledgeable about certain things. (Things I'm more curious about now than I ever was.)
In the morning, Tarik picked up Avi and drove us all to the airport. I was crying the entire time, although I tried to keep it together. Our goodbye kiss held more promise than last time, although we both know we have to go on and live our lives. Don't ask, don't tell. We're going to take it one day at a time and see what happens. Hopefully this summer when I go to Israel it'll be the same as last night...well, without the fighting.
I purposely didn't bring up Jessica to Tarik, although now Tarik and I are sitting at Perk Me Up! and Jess could walk in at any time.
Maria brings me hot chocolate with the whipped cream overflowing because she knows how upset I am. Do you think my bloodshot, teary eyes give my upsetness away? Maria hugs me, a warm hug my mom would give me if she were here.
An idea pops into my head. I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before. "Maria, what do you think of my dad? You know, if he smiled more and got a good haircut?"
Maria laughs and walks back to the register, ignoring my question. I think I saw her blush a little, though. My dad loves her coffee; he never drinks it anywhere else. In fact, I think he got me this job just so he could see her more and have an excuse to hang out at Perk Me Up! Hmm...
The door to Perk Me Up! opens and guess who walks in...yep, Jess. Along with Miranda and a very sad Nathan. Poor Nathan. Poor Jess.
It's time I stop making a mess of my own life and focus on everyone else. I can do it. There's nothing that says I have to be a Disaster Girl all the time. I can live a squeaky-clean life while helping others un-screwup their lives. No more getting in trouble for Amy Nelson-Barak.
My cell phone is ringing. It's my dad. "Hey, Aba, what's up?"
"What's up? Please tell me what a pair of plastic handcuffs are doing in the back seat of my car." Oops. Everything is so not sababa.