Dear Journal:
The last few days, the house has felt more like a headquarters for covert operations than a home. Whenever I enter a room where my parents are, hushed conversations grind to a halt.
“How you doing, kid?” Dad will ask in a loud voice, while shooting Mom a look that says, ‘Act naturally.’
It wasn’t long ago that I would’ve assumed their clandestine meetings were about me. Lord knows, I’ve been the subject of plenty over the last few years. However, mom and dad have bigger fish to fry than me these days. (Okay, maybe the fish isn’t bigger just yet, but it’s getting there.)
I tried eavesdropping, but even though I’ve lost weight, I’m still not what you would call stealthy. I usually only catch a line or two—something innocuous like “I don’t think that’s an option” or “We should say something” —before being spotted or otherwise forced to make my presence known.
So, I don’t know the details of their clandestine discussions. All I know is, I’m not involved, and I’m not the target. I feel like Switzerland during World War II—a large neutral body surrounded by conflict. (Sorry. My World History final is tomorrow.)
And when conflicts happen? Oh, boy.
Unlike the whispered powwows between my parents, they’re loud and explosive. Unfortunately, they’re almost always brief and, by the time I realize what’s happening and get into position to hear, they’re over. And, just like when I eavesdrop on mom and dad, what I do catch makes little sense without context. It’s almost always sissy with the last word (of course). She’ll scream something like, “You don’t think I know that?!?” then punctuate it with a door slam. Usually, it’s her bedroom, but occasionally she’ll switch to the bathroom for variety.
And that will be that. Until the next hushed plot precludes another explosive battle.
There was one hushed discussion I WAS the subject of, however. It happened a few days ago, right before I went clothes shopping with Mom and sissy. I’ll tell you the deets of that fiasco tomorrow. Right now, I’m late for school!
--Jessie