Untouchable - Chapter 19 #2
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with how long you were searching for a bathroom tonight?” she asked as we stopped outside my apartment.
I pulled out my key. “I’ll tell you in a second. Keep your voice down. I’m hoping my uncle is already asleep.” But before I could put my key in the lock, the door opened.
My uncle was standing there with a frown on his face. “You’re fifteen minutes late,” he said. “I was worried sick.”
With everything that had happened tonight, I had completely forgotten about my curfew. It hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“It’s my fault,” Kennedy said. “It took me forever to find the bathroom before we left. All the ones downstairs were under construction and…”
My uncle held up his hand. “And you’re in love with cupcakes? Yeah, I could hear you yelling from the stairs.”
“Actually Cupcake. Singular. He’s a boy at our school.”
“Have you two been drinking?” my uncle asked.
I swallowed hard. “No.” How much could one more lie hurt?
He folded his arms across his chest. “You smell like a brewery. I told you two that I expected you to take better care of each other. But here you are again in the same state as last weekend. So I’m going to ask you one more time and I expect the truth this time. Have you two been drinking?”
“Someone spilled something on her dress,” Kennedy said. “And we…”
“Kennedy, I think it’s best if you head home,” he said.
“But…”
“Home. Now. Brooklyn, get inside.”
I cringed.
“But, Uncle Jim…” Kennedy started.
“One more word and I’ll be talking to your mother. Go home, Kennedy.”
Kennedy pressed her lips together, gave me an apologetic smile, and fled down the hall.
My uncle opened the door so I could come in.
I walked inside and started toward my room.
“Not so fast,” my uncle said.
I froze in my tracks.
“I gave you a 1 o’clock curfew and you broke it. You told me you wouldn’t be drinking tonight. But apparently you like to lie.”
The tears I had been holding back all night started to spill down my cheeks. I was a liar. All I seemed to be able to do was lie.
“And you lied again tonight when you so clearly have been drinking. I told you that I’m not an idiot.
I know that kids drink. But you said you wouldn’t show up on my doorstep drunk ever again.
And you’re wasted, Brooklyn. You reek of alcohol.
You can barely stand up straight. What the hell were you thinking? ”
I wasn’t. I hadn’t been thinking clearly all week. Not since Matt kissed me.
“Not only that, but that boyfriend of yours was the one that told me 1 o’clock. He was the one that confirmed you wouldn’t be drinking. He looked me in the eye and made those promises. I didn’t even ask him to.” He shook his head.
I thought about how Felix had pressured me to drink. How he hadn’t mentioned the time at all. I didn’t have a defense. I gave in to him. And I lost track of time when I was hiding in Matt’s closet. But I couldn’t tell my uncle any of that.
“He’s clearly a bad influence like Kennedy said. I don’t want you to see him anymore. End of discussion.”
I wiped away the tears beneath my eyes. “What? You can’t forbid me from seeing him.”
“Actually I can. And I just did. I gave him a chance despite my reservations. I gave him a chance for you. Because I believed that you had good judgment. But he failed. And so did you. You will not be seeing him anymore.”
“This wasn’t his fault.” I stepped forward and realized my uncle was right. My body swayed and I had to place my hand on the wall to steady myself. I was drunk. I was such a freaking idiot.
“You’re right.”
What? “I am?”
He coughed into his hand and cleared his throat. “It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I’ve been too lenient with you. You’re grounded, Brooklyn. For one week.”
“You can’t ground me. You’re not my mom.” And my mother had never grounded me. I’d never given her a reason to. I didn’t even know what being grounded entailed, but I assumed I wouldn’t like it.
“I know, Brooklyn. I’m not your mom. I’m your uncle who took you in when you had no one else! I’m giving up everything for you. And if all I can do is teach you to make good on a promise, then so be it. I’ll do whatever it takes. Now you’re grounded for one month. Go to your room.”
“I hate it here.”
“I already know that. You’ve made that abundantly clear.
I put a roof over your head. I sent you to the most prestigious school in the city.
I’ve done everything to make this as easy for you as possible.
And you hate it anyway! So I might as well give you a reason to actually hate it.
You’re grounded for the rest of the semester.
Now go to your room before I ground you for the rest of your life.
” He sighed and turned away from me, like he couldn’t even look at me anymore.
I needed air. I was used to being able to step outside to breathe.
To clear my head. When my mom was sick I used to go on walks around the hospital.
I’d get all my tears out and go back to her hospital room with all the optimism I needed for her.
To show her I wasn’t scared. To show her I believed in miracles.
One that could save her. God, I had so blindly believed in miracles. I’d clung to hope like an idiot.
I slammed my bedroom door closed, gasping for air as the memories collided with my reality.
I flung open the window and climbed out onto the fire escape.
I gasped for air as I climbed out. But all the air did was make me cry harder.
I sat down on the cold metal and let myself cry.
Cry for my loss. Cry for my mistakes. Cry about everything my uncle said.
He was right. I was ungrateful. But how could I be grateful in such a cruel world?
A world that took my mom away. A world where I was allowed to talk to assholes like Matt but not sweet guys like Felix.
I gasped for breath, my lungs finally expanding and collapsing properly.
I’d only been out on the fire escape once before, when I’d first moved here.
I climbed out hoping to see the stars in the sky.
I had this stupid thought that if I could see the stars that I could pretend that I was looking at them from my home back in Delaware instead of here.
That seeing them would make me feel like I wasn't so far away from my mom.
But there were no stars in the city sky. I let my tears fall. And there were no miracles.