“Ihate this.” I cry on the phone. “My parents were never like this. I’m almost eighteen, and I’ve new rules! It’s not fair.” I punch the pillow and throw it at the other end of the bed.
“New rules?” Vikram laughs. He thinks it’s funny.
“Yes, and it’s all your fault,” I say, sitting straight on the bed with another pillow on my lap.
“My fault?” He shouts. “What the f**k did I do?”
“My mother wants to lock my balcony and keep the key with herself because climbing my balcony is your favorite sport. I’ve never had a curfew, but she wants me home by nine p.m. now. She even suggested taking away my phone at bedtime. And all that is okay, but the worst part is my mother finally had the talk with me that I thought I was lucky enough to escape.”
“The talk?”
“Yes, the talk.”
“The bird and the
