Ballads of Suburbia Read Online Free Page B

keep us from being separated. I even tried to convince my parents that we should move to Berwyn, too.
    I accosted them in the kitchen one night while Mom prepared dinner and Dad thumbed through the files in his briefcase. I contended that we could find a cheaper house in Berwyn and the taxes would be lower. Feeling desperate, I also asserted, “Berwyn has the car spindle that was in Wayne’s World. Oak Park doesn’t have cool public art like that.”
    Dad snorted. “Kara, that thing is beyond tacky. And we’re staying in Oak Park for the schools. That’s why I work so hard to pay those high taxes.”
    â€œDoesn’t Stacey deserve to go to school here, too? Maybe she could live with us or at least use our address-”
    Dad cut me off with his patented “Absolutely not!” signaling end of discussion.
    Mom chased me upstairs to my bedroom, where I threw myselfon my bed, shouting, “Dad’s so unfair! He didn’t even listen to me. He doesn’t care about anything but his stupid job and he doesn’t understand…” I buried my face in a pillow, sobbing.
    Mom gently stroked my hair. “I understand,” she murmured. I turned my head to look at her. She brushed away the ginger strands that clung to my damp cheeks before explaining, “My best friend’s parents sent her to an all-girls Catholic high school. I begged my parents to send me, too, even though we couldn’t afford it.”
    â€œYou do understand. Will you talk to Dad?” I asked with a hiccup.
    Mom smiled in that patronizing parental way. “Sweetie, Jane and I stayed friends even though we went to different schools. We hung out after school almost every day. That’s what you and Stacey’ll do. She’ll only be a couple miles away. And you’ll meet new friends like I did. It’ll be okay.”
    â€œNo, it won’t!” I spat, feeling betrayed. Mom tried to hug me, but I flopped over on my stomach, growling, “Get out of my room!”
    Mom spent the summer trying to reassure me that everything would be fine, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that our annual trip to my aunt’s cabin in Door County would be the last of the good times for me and Stacey.
    My family always spent the second-to-last week of August at the cabin and Stacey had been joining us since fourth grade. Stacey’s move was scheduled for the weekend after we returned, but we tried to enjoy our vacation.
    On our last night, we snuck out after everyone went to bed. We crept through the backyard, down the dirt path to the lake. We did this every year, settling on the edge of the small pier just past where the motorboat was moored to talk and look at the stars. But this time we had a mission: to smoke pot for the first time. We thought getting stoned would help us forget the move and laugh and have fun like we used to.
    We sat on the pier in silence at first, listening to make sure none of the adults had woken. Then Stacey fumbled in the pocket of her flannel shirt for the joint she’d carefully wrapped in a plastic bag. She hadn’t shown it to me yet and I’d wondered if she’d actually been able to swipe some pot from Beth like she’d been promising.
    Stacey extracted the joint and placed it in my palm. I studied the rolling job. It looked like a regular cigarette, but with the paper neatly twisted at both ends. “Whoa,” I breathed upon examining the craftsmanship. “Did Beth give this to you?”
    â€œNo, she’s not that cool. I took the pot and the papers from her dresser drawer while she was at work.”
    â€œYou rolled this?”
    Stacey nodded, obviously proud of her accomplishment. “Learned from watching the best.” She smirked and handed me her lighter.
    We’d started stealing Beth’s cigarettes that summer, but they hadn’t prepared my lungs for the burn of the first inhale. I coughed, tucking my chin