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“Huh?”
“The phone’s ringing Jules.”
“Crap.” She stood and ran to answer it. “Hello? Yes, he is. I.....okay, yes ma’am.” She handed me the phone, “It’s your mom and she wants to talk to you.”
I dragged my hand over my mouth and tried hard not to panic.
“Hello?”
“What are you doing Elliott? Do you know what time it is?” She asked.
“Well, mom, it’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
“Basically, I got into a fist fight at Matthew Tanen’s party and got hurt.”
“Are you okay?”
“I think so. A few cuts and bruises but I think I’ll survive.”
“Oh, you think you’ll survive huh?”
“Yeah,” I continued, ignoring her sarcasm. “I was covered in blood and could barely walk so Jules brought me here to clean me up. I fell asleep on a chair in her living room.” I conveniently left out the part where she fell asleep in my lap. I didn’t find that to be particularly relevant to the story.
“And?”
“And that’s all.”
She sighed.
“Okay, well I’ll be up and waiting when you walk in our door in about five minutes. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hung up the phone.
“Jules?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m in deep.”
She bit her bottom lip.
I walked in my back door four minutes later.
“Mom?”
“I’m in my bedroom,” she yelled.
I walked in to see both of my parents up with their backs against their headboard, still in their pajamas. I rubbed the back of my neck to redistribute the pooling blood I know that had to be painting my face red and leaned my sore shoulder against the jamb. When they saw me I didn’t get the reaction I was expecting, at all.
“Oh my God!” My mom screamed and ran over to me, my dad not far behind. “What happened to you son?”
“I told you I’d gotten into a fight.”
“Oh my God Mark! Look at his face!”
