Typical

“Kara, your father and I really need to talk to you about something.”1

I popped a piece of ravioli into my mouth and chewed slowly. I wasn't going to give my parents my full concentration; only bad things could come of this conversation. I did place my iPod on the table and turn down the volume, so that even if I wasn't listening, I could at least hear whatever it was they had to say to me.2

Mom cleared her throat for the second time tonight. “Look. I realize that you're fourteen now, and you do deserve some freedoms that you didn't a year ago. I just think that maybe you've been abusing the freedom we have given you.”3

I looked down at my plate of pasta, deliberately avoiding my mother's gaze. I could see my dad staring at me sternly in the corner of my eye, but I refused to acknowledge the obvious disappointment he was expressing to me. He then shifted his eyes towards my mother, who was sitting at the other end of the table to my left, and nodded slightly. She sighed, as usual.4

“Kara, I think you should stop seeing that boy.”5

That did it.6

“Are you serious? Are you kidding me?” I leapt out of my seat, sending my chair skidding backward across the kitchen floor and ripping the headphones out of my ears. “This is just typical: you tell me I can date, and then you tell me I can't! What did I do to deserve this?”7

My mother opened her mouth to respond in her irritatingly calm tone, but I cut her off: “And he's not 'that boy'! His name is Jacob, and we are in love! How could you do this to me?”8

“We just don't want you to get hurt,” Mom attempted to reason, although it was quite obvious that their intentions had nothing to do with my well-being. I knew the truth: they honestly believed that if they sheltered me for long enough, I'd be their little girl forever, as if tearing me away from my independence would erase all of their qualms about my growing up.9

“This isn't fair!”10

“Of course it's fair!” Dad retorted, the anger in his voice rivaling mine. “We give you everything; we know what's best for you, and we know that what's best for you right now is to not get involved with boys and dating. You need to show us some respect and do what we say!”11

“You can't just make me stop seeing him. You don't control my life. What are you going to do? Will you keep me home from school so I can't see him again?”12

My father's face was bright red at this point. “Room. Now. You're grounded: your computer, iPod, TV and telephone are off-limits. And stop being such a spoiled smart aleck!”13

I marched out of the kitchen and stamped up the stairs. I'd almost reached my room when I heard the dreaded call from the main level.14

“Kara, your cellphone?”15

I flinched with indignation as I pivoted on my left heel and returned back down the stairs. I was sure I had been discreet, but I suppose the fact that my cellphone is always in my pocket made my smuggling it to my room a tad too predictable. Just before rounding the corner into view of my parents, I slipped it out of my pocket—I only had one last chance to check the voicemail inbox.16

“YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE. VIEW NOW?”17

I frowned. Everyone knew my phone didn't have a texting plan, so no one I knew sent them unless something really important had come up. Curious, I pressed the call button. As I read the message, my eyes widened.18

“From: Jake19

kara its over20

hope u understand”21

I was speechless, but my thoughts were running wild. Finally, they settled on one idea: “My parents were right. Typical.”