What Happens Next by Colleen Clayton Read Free Book Online

bathroom, pass by the mirror, but only see a flash of red on my way to the shower. I don’t look in mirrors now unless I have to, and it’s not necessarily because of some deep-seated Freudianesque type shame, although that may have something to do with it. It’s because I can’t look in the mirror and not have the Truth staring back at me. Literally.
    My mother was the first to notice it, in the car when she picked me up yesterday. She’d finished with the screaming and our faces were soaked with tears, our noses were running, and I turned to reach into the backseat for some tissues. “What happened to your hair?” she said, and reached out to finger my curls. I flipped down the visor mirror and that’s when I saw it.
    One long spiral snipped.
    Man. Spectacular. These things, they go on forever.
    And now he has a piece of it.

    It’s Wednesday, the third day of my four-day suspension. It would have been five days, but I haven’t been in trouble since middle school. I had a reputation for being a scrapper back then, but I haven’t had so much as a detention in high school, and I keep a respectable grade point average. The guidance counselor went to bat for me and the principal let me off a little by cutting my suspension down by a day and adding a detention instead.
    I’m grounded, of course, and being indoors is unbearable. Every moment feels like the roof and walls are caving in on me, and the only thing that gives me any real relief is stepping outside into the cold air. But then my mom gets upset because I’m supposed to be grounded, which meant “confinement” the last time she checked.
    She’s forgiven me, though; the forgiveness bloomed right away, just like always. In the middle of that first night, I felt her tiptoe into my room and crawl into my bed to lay down beside me. I pretended to be asleep. It was comforting to know she was there. She reached out and put her hand on my back like she used to do when I was little. To make sure I was breathing. To make sure I was warm and safe and real.
    But I’m still grounded. Katherine hasn’t budged an inch on that. Paige and Kirsten are grounded, too. Worse yet, they both got slapped with a week of detentions for covering for me, for knowing I snuck out and not telling a chaperone. Their moms called the house and spoke to my mom. Mrs. Vanderhoff and Mrs. Daniels? Not happy ladies. Especially Mrs. Daniels. Kirsten got her car taken away, but poor Paige—she has no car, no cable, and limited phone and Internet to begin with. There’s literally nothing to take. I dread to think what a Paige Daniels grounding might entail. Probably reading the Bible all day long and then copying it by hand. God, I’m such a horrible friend.
    I know that I need to call them or pick up the phone and explain myself, but every time the phone rings, I plead with my mother to make excuses, then I go to my room and shut the door. She’s tired of lying, so she finally just unplugged the phone from the wall. But not before calling the principal to get the topics for my punishment essays.
    The Importance of Curfews… 500-word minimum.
    Why Society Needs Rules… 500-word minimum.
    Respecting Authority. Peer Pressure. What It Means To Be A Leader.
    500.
    500.
    500.
    I only have two days left, and I haven’t even started them yet. So I hunker down and get it done. The essay is my true medium; I am a rock star when it comes to mixing bits of information with twenty-dollar words.
    With 2,500 words completed in just under four hours, I start my other homework. I jump online for just a moment to e-mail this girl Bethany for calculus assignments, trying not to see the avalanche of e-mails from Kirsten. I can’t help it—I start to tally up Kirsten’s messages. After eight, I stop. And I don’t open them. In fact, I do worse than not open them. I delete them all in one fell swoop.
    Check All—Delete—Are You Sure?—Yep.
    I feel relieved, staring at my empty inbox, the slate wiped