“You’re going and that’s final,” said my mother, her back toward me as she slammed the pan down on the stove.
“But this is my last summer before college,” I tried for the umpteenth time that day.
She turned and glared at me. “Which means you’ll be lounging around here for three months expecting me to be at your beck and call, three square meals a day.”
I shrugged. “Sounds like a fun summer.”
She shrugged. “For you.” She then turned and went back to making lunch. “You’re going. It’ll be an adventure, a learning experience. Case closed.”
I flipped her the bird—behind her back of course—and nodded, replying, just beneath my breath, “We’ll see about that.”
“What did you say?” she spat, whipping around, lightning fast.
I jumped. “I, uh, I said, well how about that. Can’t wait.”
She paus
