Simone

Simone came down the steps into the living room and looked at her parents on the sofa. Her mother's face was red from crying. Her father sat beside her, his spine erect, hardly leaning back at all. Simone guessed that if she used a ruler, there would be a distance of 2.5 inches between his starched white shirt and the back of his seat. His head pivoted mechanically to view Simone standing there and held her beneath his gaze--the insect collector pinning down his prize.
        
"Sit down," her father said, motioning to the maroon arm chair. "We have some news for you, missy."
        
The corners of Simone's lips drew back into a thin, taut line. She sank into the chair, her sacrum tilted by the decrepit cushions. A corner of the upholstery peeled up under her weight, revealing a rat's nest of moth-eaten feathers and moldy cracker crumbs. She shifted her weight and the whole chair jolted back on to its rear legs. Simone had always hated sitting in that chair. She wondered if her father knew this and made her sit there intentionally for all her floggings.
        
"We got a call today from your school," her father said. "Guess what they said?"
        
"How am I supposed to know?"
        
Her father shot to his feet. "Don't play stupid. You're no good at it." He folded his arms across his chest like a plain clothes cop interrogating a suspect. "What the hell were you doing with drugs in school, huh? And wipe that goddamn smirk off your face, wiseass. This is very serious business."
        
Muffy limped into the room, her yellowing coat mangier than ever, and lay down at Simone's feet, tucking her tail between her legs.
        
"It's not my fault," she said. "It was Steve, he gave it to me. I was just holding it for him."
        
"And we're supposed to believe you?"
        
"Oh Simone, this is the worst thing you've ever done!" her mother said. "They want to kick you out of school. They said they could turn you over to the police for the amount they found in your locker--and your father has half a mind to let them!"
        
"Do you know how much we have to pay to send you to St. Stevens? It's like another goddamn mortgage!"
        
Her mother started crying with the kind of big whooping sobs she always used when Simone fucked up real bad. Simone squeezed her fingernails into her palms so hard, she could feel them digging through the skin. More than anything in the world, Simone hated seeing her mother cry.
        
There was a long, awkward silence when Simone looked down at a tiny snow globe on the coffee table, still there from Christmas. She remembered sitting right where she was now just a few months before, and how happy her mother was to be taking her picture for the family Christmas card.
        
"Come on, Mom, I'm too old for this. I'm almost 14!" Simone had said.
        
"Just smile one more time for me, will you? Oh honey, you are getting to be a young woman, already!" She smiled at Simone the way she always did around the holidays, then took another sip of her bourbon-infused
eggnog. "Gosh, time goes by so fast. Before you know it, you'll be driving the boys crazy at school."
        
Simone blushed. "Come on, Mom! I don't even have a boyfriend."
        
"They'll be falling all over themselves to ask you out. Just you wait." Her mother's eyes glistened in the the light of the Christmas tree. As much as she hated to admit it, Simone loved being fussed over by her mother. Christmas was only a few months ago, but it felt like a lifetime.
        
Simone looked up at her parents sitting on the couch.
        
"I'm sorry mom and dad. I really am. I swear, I'll never touch that stuff again."