Страница 4 из 41
Daily Field Journal of A
Location: Orchard Hill Country Club poolside.Cover: Applying for a summer job as a lifeguard. As if I can swim.Observations:10:31 a.m.: Subject Faith lies on a lounge chair. She takes out her phone and dials.Faith: “Hi, Chloe! I’m at the club pool! Come by if you get a chance! I have prime real estate between the snack bar and the warm water corner! Call me!”Subject hangs up. Frowns. Dials again.Faith: “Hi, Sha
“Jake? Can I see you for a moment, please?”My mother stood at the door of my room. There was a piece of paper in her hand. I had no idea what it was, but there was something ominous about it.“What’s up?” I asked.“Downstairs.”She turned around and went. Yeah. Very not good. I shoved myself off my bed and followed, walking through the cloud of flowery perfume that always trailed her. Her jewel-covered flip-flops left tiny footprints in the heavy carpeting of the hallway and made slapping sounds as she walked down the stairs. Why did I suddenly feel like those slapping sounds were the soundtrack of doom?In the kitchen, my mother walked to the other side of the island and placed the paper down in front of me. Now I could see it was my report card.Shit.“Three Cs, a C minus, one B, and an A,” she said. “In gym.” The dark red helmet of her hair kind of trembled. Never a good sign.“Yeah, but that C minus was totally unfair,” I said, leaning forward into the island across from her. “Mr. Caswell is a complete douche.”My mother flinched. “Language.”“Sorry. It’s just—”She held up her hand. The huge diamond on her ring finger swung around to face me. “Jake, I just talked to your father and we’ve decided that there’s only one thing we can do here.”“What?” I swallowed hard.“You’re grounded.”“What!?”“For the summer.”“What!?”Grounded for the summer? What did that even mean?“No more Mrs. Nice Guy, Jake,” she said, walking over to the fridge and yanking it open. She took out the glass pitcher filled to the brim with water, ice, and sliced lemon, then let the door slam. “Between this report card and your SATs, you’re going to be lucky to get into Bergen Community next year, let alone Fordham.”“But mom—”“There are no buts here,” my mother said. The ice tinkled as she set the pitcher down on the counter. “It’s about time you start taking your life seriously. I’ve already called this new SAT tutor Co