Chapter Two
"Mike, go get your brothers and have them come was up for dinner!" I wiped my flour-caked hands on a nearby dish towel, trying to keep some of it out of my hair this time.
I'd just threw the freshly made rolls into the oven, awaiting my husband's arrival home from fishing all day with my father, Charlie. The boys had stayed home this time because they were grounded. Mike had two D's in both Biology and American history and his ass wasn't going anywhere until he brought them up to at least B's. He was way too smart to be doing so poorly in those subjects, and I had a suspicion it was due to the fact that he had his first girlfriend, a seventh grader named Jessica.
Needless to say, his father and I weren't too excited about the new development.
Seth and Liam, well, their room was just a disaster, and so it was no fishing for them or anything else until things were tucked away where they belonged. This new decree had been enacted a week ago and not a dent had been made in the chaos in which they called a bedroom. Their father would have their tales when he got home.
"Michael!"
"I heard you, Ma. I'm going."
My eldest pulled himself up off the couch, the self-diagnosed depression he'd been in evident on his adolescent face.
"If you heard me then why didn't you do as I asked?"
"Jeez, Mom. Get off my case. I'm going, aren't I?"
"Michael Jude Black, watch your attitude."
"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled from down the hallway. "You don't know how it feels mom. It's not fair that I'm grounded and can't talk to my friends."
"To Jessica, you mean," I said under my breath.
"Hey, brats! Mom says come eat," he screamed at the closed door. Something thudded against the solid wood and then two rounds of peeling laughter could be heard with just a slight muffle. God only knew what they were doing in there. Not what they were supposed to be doing, that was for sure.
Mike came tearing back down the hallway and flounced back onto the hole he'd been wearing in the leather couch, full on sulk mode continued.
"Despite what you believe, son, your father and I want what's best for you. We aren't like some of the other parents your friends have who don't seem to take an interest in their lives."
"Who aren't stalkers, you mean."
"Just because we monitor your Facebook and Instagram doesn't make us stalkers, Mike. It means that we want to know what you have going on. Who your friends are. What you talk about. Not to mention all of the dangerous people lurking on the internet –"
"Come on, Mom. I'm not a kid. I know to be careful."
"That may be. It' still our job to make sure you're not getting into anything you shouldn't be."
"Whatever," Mike mumbled, and I could almost hear the eyeroll in his tone of voice. Sighing, I glanced at the clock on the microwave, counting the minutes until Jake got home.