Handcuffs (35 page)

“She says she wants the divorce,” Mom says. I can’t tell if she’s sad or just tired.

“Did West show up?” I ask. Paige called him and was hoping he might come for some counseling thing her doctor set up.

“No.” Mom runs her hand over the big empty space where my computer used to sit. It’s in the kitchen now. Yeah. I have to check my e-mail in the kitchen, where they can watch me and make sure I’m not doing anything illegal.

“Paige is stupid,” I say. Saying it makes me feel like crap, and I realize how mad I’ve been at Paige for screwing up her life and for not being perfect.

“Sometimes people just get an idea in their head.”

“You mean like Paige thinking West was so great?”

“Or like me thinking that a perfect family had to have three children.”

“What?”

“Well, you know, I was an only child, and I thought to have that perfect family we had to have this big brick house with a white porch and three children. Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise three children?”

“Not really.”

“If you had been half as difficult as Paige and Preston, we would have never made it. We thought we were lucky to have one quiet child.”

Yeah, it’s really great to be the quiet one. It’s totally fucking awesome. Wait, what did Mom just say?

“You mean it wouldn’t have mattered if Preston was a girl?”

“Well, of course it would matter. Can you imagine a girl collecting all those gross things, and the plastic snakes and playing those sumo wrestling video games?”

“Um, I mean, you didn’t feel like you had to have Preston because I was a girl, and you really wanted a boy?”

“Three boys, three girls, whatever combination. I was just determined to have three perfect children.”

I start to say something terrible like, Well, then you really screwed up, considering her last chance at perfection just woke up and is now crashing into my room. It’s a good thing Mom didn’t close the door all the way, because it looks like he entered headfirst. Like, he hit the door with his head, and then it slams into the wall and bounces back to hit him on the other side of his head. Ouch.

I could also tell her that I know something about getting ideas in your mind that won’t go away, but I’m not ready to talk to her about stuff yet. I’ll just let her stay here and feel like she’s being a good mom. Everybody deserves a little confidence boost, especially when they’re trying so hard.

“Honey, where’s your helmet?” Mom asks Preston.

Instead of answering he jumps up onto my bed and rolls around in the pillows, like a crazy puppy with ADHD.

“C’mon, let’s go get your medicine and a Pop-Tart.” Mom takes him by the arm and drags him away. She looks over her shoulder and says, “I guess that middle-child stuff isn’t all baloney, huh, Parker?” almost like she’s a real person and she’s recognizing me as a real person too. Weird.

I stand up and smooth out the comforter where I had wrinkled it. I rearrange the pillows and pick up the one Preston knocked to the floor. It takes a minute to get them all in the exact right spots, but it’s worth the effort. Looking at my perfectly made bed makes me happy. I like this stupid princess room and this house, and sometimes even this family.

It’s been almost two months since Christmas, and over a week since I last made my mom cry. I guess I might be improving or something.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank the following people:

Maya Rock for totally “getting it” and loving this project, sometimes even more than I did.

Krista Marino for her enthusiasm and insight.

Lee Faith for being the love of my life and supporting my writing even when it seemed like a crazy dream, and even when it meant feeding and bathing the kids almost every night.

Ezra and Noel for keeping me sane through rejections and revisions and life in general.

My mom, Vicki Griffin, for teaching me to love to read.

Stephanie Hale and Carmen Rodrigues for being the best critique partners and friends anyone could ask for.

Jamie Sobrato for reading everything, telling me I could do it, and then reading even more.

My Eastside readers—Missy Wood, my number one never-critical reader, as well as Lana Yeary, Kathy Price, Kevin Vachon, Trish Priddy, and Kimberly Thompson.

And finally, each and every one of my students, but especially the eighth graders of 2006–07, many of whom will presumably be my tenth graders when this book is released!

Bethany Griffin
is a high school English teacher and an avid reader of teen fiction. She teaches and writes in Kentucky, where she lives with her three cats, her two children, and her husband—the first guy she met who had read more than three of her favorite books.
Handcuffs
is her first book for young readers.

Published by Delacorte Press
an imprint of Random House Children’s Books
a division of Random House, Inc.
New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2008 by Bethany Griffin

All rights reserved.

Delacorte Press and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

www.randomhouse.com/teens

Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at
www.randomhouse.com/teachers

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Griffin, Bethany.
Handcuffs / Bethany Griffin.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: When sixteen-year-old Parker Prescott
is discovered in a compromising position with her ex-boyfriend,
she is forced to reevaluate her life and redefine herself.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89121-2
[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Dating (Social customs)—
Fiction. 3. Coming of age—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.G881327Han  2008
[Fic]—dc22        2007043849

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