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I don't feel like I??. 

This is the most frustrating sentence I have come across. I have heard it from others many, many times and have had to use it myself quite a few times. But still should I begin the sentence now, I still find myself in front of a wall. 

I don't feel like I am the person for this job. A job I have never tried.

I don't think I will be able to do it. In response to something I had heard for the first time that day. 

I don't think I will be a good fit. When I was job searching. 

They all precede things I haven't encountered before, and yet, I seem to have this certainty within me that stops me from going further, from trying something that could change my opinion. 

I wondered where it came from. What exactly had I done that made me so sure that this was something outside of my capabilities. Tonight, I will question myself again, ? Who am I? Who is Linnet?? Maybe, I will have a thought if not an answer.

*************************************************

? Ms. D'Sa, where do you see yourself in three years?,? the man interviewing me asks. 

?In three years, I will be working as the head of HR at a Fortune 500 company. I will also have successfully completed my Master's in I/O Psychology and be halfway through my MBA.? I reply, not because I believe I will be at that point by then but because that is the kind of response that garners a more positive outlook towards my application. Or so I read while researching interviewer perception. 

?You plan to pursue two Master's degrees. Why? If you are given the job and as such work here over the next three years, how will these two degrees help in particular?? 

?I have a Bachelor's degree in Psychology and have always wanted to pursue a career in Human Resources. I wanted to do so because it is a field which combines the areas of people and tasks Depending on the position, a person would have to be more of a task oriented or a people oriented person, or a 49-51 combination of the two. While I have an idea of the people side of that equation, I am mostly unaware of the task or business side. The two degrees should help fill in the gaps as I learn while working. Also, the degree in I/O psychology will show me what psychometric measures are available in order to find the right fit for the job.? 

***************************************

The interview ended soon after that. While I could see their expressions while assessing me, I was too flustered to place them. 

On the way home, my head was full of thoughts. Did I do enough? Were my answers satisfying? Was I too wide eyed? Did my nervousness show?  Will my lack of work experience be a major factor? 

I wanted to cry. I think I did but they were hidden by the rain on my face. I hadn't checked the weather forecast today. I cried some more as the rain soaked me. 

I took a hot shower when I got home, yet the nervous chill that swept through my body made me tremble a little. I had only a little time left. If I couldn't get a job, I would have to go back to a place where I had no prospects. The thought left me colder still. 

I had to eat even though I had no appetite. I reheated some leftovers and ate while I watched a drama. While it didn't save me from drowning in my thoughts of my ineptitude, it was distracting enough that I found a breathing hole. I used that respite to focus on the things I had to do the next day. More resumes to be sent out, more follow-up emails to be sent, more rejections to be sorted through; the list went on. 

After washing the plate I had used, I went to bed. My thoughts followed. The interview was all I had to promote me. I didn't have the grades nor the work experience. My dream of being head of HR one day seemed further away than last night. 

I pressed my eyes closed. I didn't want to cry again. Not at night. Ma used to say it is important how we go to bed at night, it sets the tone for the next day. I wiped the moisture in my eyes away and began with my nightly affirmations. 

I will get a job. 

I will be financially independent.

It is taking longer than others but I will also get there. 

I will not take the rejections personally.

I will not lose faith in my ability.

I have a potential.

I am not useless.

I had to repeat them a few more times than usual tonight. I seem to be more on edge than normal. I was sinking again. I put on some music to divert my mind. It took a while but it worked. I smiled for the first time that day. Through all the ups and downs I have had to go through, music has never failed to make me smile. Despite having a hard day, being able to smile at the end of it seems like a good end to the day, I think Ma would agree. It sets a hopeful tone for tomorrow. 

Holding onto that thought, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, the sound of rain coming from my phone soothing my bruised mind. As the drowsiness set in, a few remnant thoughts of the day passed through my mind. Had I given my best? Had I shown them that it was something I was passionate about? 

As the last of these questions disappeared, last night's question came forward. Who am I? Who is Linnet? I had a response this time. In two weeks, Linnet would be accepting an offer for the position of HR assistant. Maybe?

And then I fell asleep.

?You wanna do something fun?? Tanner asks, stretching and yawning in a way that says, Can we be done fighting now?

We're on day two of our cross-country spring break road trip, and I've been giving Tanner the silent treatment for going on an hour now?ever since we left the Cat's Cradle Café back in Welcome, Minnesota. Despite the chill seeping through the windows, the van reeks of B.O. and stale Doritos and pine scent air freshener. I'm driving, and I've turned off the radio three times now?driver controls the radio, that's the rule?leaving us with no soundtrack for our dispute other than the wind whining in the windows and the semis blowing by in the passing lane. Through the frosty windows, fields and pastures flow by in snow-covered sameness, broken here and there by the ragged stubble of dead stalks.

I don't answer him?not out loud, anyway. Silence is the best weapon in my limited arsenal, because I know from long experience that if he gets me talking, he'll have me laughing within three minutes, and everyone knows laughter is fatal to a good fight, so I keep my mouth shut and my eyes on the road and my hands on the steering wheel. In my head, though, I'm thinking: That's what you said about this trip: Wouldn't it be fun to take a trip across the country for spring break, leave the crowded beaches of Padre Island and Santa Monica and Cancun to the Barbarians of Booze? Because obviously nothing is more fun than driving across the wastes of the frozen north in your dad's ten-year-old Dodge Caravan.

Why'd I even agree to this trip anyway?

That's what I'm wondering now, and the answer comes easy: Because that's the way it's always been, from forever and ever; he leads, I follow. He'd call up on a Saturday morning or some cicada-spangled summer afternoon and ask did I want to come over and?fill in the blank: put on a circus, bike to the mall, build model rockets, camp out in his tree fort, go sledding down Seventh Street. And nine times out of ten, I said yes. And why not? He got me out of my backyard and into the wide world, places I'd never dare go on my own. When we got older, we'd bike out to the airport and lay in the grass outside the perimeter fence, watching planes the size of small dragons rise into the sky above us, the roar of their engines hammering our bodies until every bone rang. Or we'd pack lunches and bike two hours out to the fire tower; he'd race to the top, and I'd follow ten minutes later, clutching the skeletal railing the entire way, and then we would sit at the top, our legs dangling out over the trees, and eat squashed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and snack cakes and talk about everything.

You're closer to Tanner than his shadow, is the way my mom described it. She didn't disapprove; everyone loved Tanner. Adults sometimes called him a charmer, and they were right. With fine orange hair that kept drifting into his blue eyes, a splash of freckles, and an easy smile, he was like the sun breaking through an overcast sky: he made everyone look up. All the boys wanted him on their team, even if he was a mediocre player; the girls teased him relentlessly, then invited him to their birthday parties. Teachers said he was ?a delight to have in the classroom.?

Even you?you're warming right up to him, aren't you? I'm the one telling this story, but he's already sitting on the protagonist's perch.

It's all right.

You're probably wondering how we got to be friends, me being more of a Cameron Frye to his Ferris Bueller. It was a pretty simple three-step process. One: Our moms were in the PTA together and got to be friends. Two: Whenever they got together, they brought us along. Three: Forced into one another's company, we adapted, and pretty soon, we'd developed a symbiotic relationship. Or maybe that's not quite how it went. Maybe it's more like a newly hatched duckling that imprints on a puppy, and pretty soon people are wondering why this duck is riding everywhere on the dog's back. Anyway, the vines of our late-teen entanglement were planted back when we were too young to know what we were signing up for.

Which brings us back to the week before spring break. Tanner says, You know what would be fun? We should drive to Seattle. Just to be clear, this would be fun for Tanner because his girlfriend is going to art school in Seattle, and they haven't seen one another since August 12th. Even as he spoke, it was way less obvious to me how five days of hard driving would be fun, but my objections were only pro forma and ultimately drowned in the deluge of fun places that Tanner said we'd see along the way. The Rock in the House in Fountain City, Wisconsin. The Spam Museum in Austin, Minnesota. The Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota. The Lake of Death in Butte, Montana. Etc, etc. All places he lifted from a beat-up copy of Roadside America. He says, This will be a spring break to remember. An expedition into the real America!

What he doesn't say is that these places are separated by hundreds of miles of snow-covered cornfields so empty, even the AM radio stations are scarce. What he also doesn't say but what I figure out pretty soon after we've left is that to make it to Seattle and back in time, he needs me to help drive, and even so, it's going to be squeaky, which means there's not really time to stop at the Mummified Mermaid in Wallace, Idaho, or anywhere else in ?real America,? for that matter.

All of which sets the stage for the events that took place this morning in the Cat's Cradle Café.

The café looks like it used to be someone's house, which makes it feel weird just walking in the front door without knocking or anything. Inside, the place is cat-themed: Puss in Boots adorns the decorative plates hanging on the wall; tiny cat pawprints are painted on the floor and tables; a porcelain Skippyjon Jones regards us mischievously from atop the hostess stand. The place is nearly empty, other than a table of old men in baseball caps nursing coffees at a round table in the back.

Overall, the place is making me skeptical of our supposed mission to discover the real America, and I'm about to suggest we backtrack to the McDonald's by the interstate, but then our waitress makes her appearance, and I shut my mouth.

Persephone (she's wearing a nametag) greets us like she's been waiting for us all morning and is glad we're finally here. She looks into our faces with smiling eyes, then beckons us to follow her to a booth. Handing us well-worn laminated menu cards, she asks what she can get us to drink. Tanner orders coffee, but I have suddenly lost my voice because she's looking at me with a smile like the spring sun, and all I can think is how well her name suits her. Tanner loosens my tongue with a swift kick under the table.

?Um, I'm just trying to decide between water or tea,? I manage to say, covering for my silence.

?I always have a hard time deciding, too,? she says and she casts her eyes skyward in self-deprecating exasperation.

?I guess I'll have the tea.?

?Okay,? she says, marking that down in her order pad. ?Do you want me to put some honey in that? I always add honey.?

?Sure.?

She dots the order pad, flashes a smile. ?I'll be right back with those.?

When she's gone, Tanner peeks over the top of his menu. ??Do you want some honey with that?'? he mimics. ?Someone's working hard for her tip.?

?Or maybe she's just being nice.?

?Yuh-huh, I know that look on your face,? Tanner says from behind his menu.

?What??

He peeks over his menu again, smiling benignly. ?What what? You know what I'm talking about.?

I shake my head. Tanner snorts.

Persephone comes back with our drinks. ?Coffee for you,? she says, carefully setting the cup before Tanner, ?and tea for you?with honey, of course!?

Tanner's eyes flicker at me.

I order the blueberry pancakes with a side of scrambled eggs, and Tanner orders the Farmer's Omelet with a side of bacon and a blueberry muffin.

?Mmm,? she says, smiling faintly as she jots down the order. Then she looks up, and she looks at me with a curious smile, and it seems like she's maybe going to ask something, but then she says, ?All right, I'll have these out to you in a jiffy!?

I watch her walk away.

Tanner is doing that thing he does when he's impatient: jiggling his leg up and down under the table so fast the utensils rattle.

?Stop!? I say, and I press my hands down on the table.

He stops. ?I think we can make Missoula by tonight,? he says.

That's a stretch. I give him a skeptical look but don't object out loud. ?What's the itinerary?? I ask.

?I don't know,? he says, looking around absently. ?You think that cat's real?? He points to a cat curled up in the sunny front window.

?I'm not sneezing, so it must be a stuffed animal or something.?

?Or it's dead,? Tanner says, smirking. ?Paging Dr. Schrödinger.?

I don't follow up on his little inside joke because I'm listening to Persephone chatting with the short order cook back in the kitchen. I can't tell what they're saying, but her tone is light and friendly. She comes out to check on the table across the room, and all the men stop talking and brighten up. Their faces mirror hers, no doubt

Tanner's eyes follow mine. ?Jasper, seriously.? He rubs his face with both hands. ?This is why we need to find you a girlfriend.?

I lean across the table. ?Who says I need a girlfriend??

?What about that girl from your chemistry lab?Celine, or??

?I don't need a girlfriend,? I say again.

?You're only saying that because you don't have a girlfriend, which is fine, but??

?It is fine,? I say, ?because if I needed a romantic partner, what would that say about me??

He looks at me blankly, then spreads out his hands. ?I give up, what??

I tip my head, trying to think how to explain this. ?If I say I need someone, aren't I saying there's something missing in me? Or that I can't be a functioning human being without that person? There's something?I don't know, mechanical about putting it that way.?

?Uh huh.? He's smirking. ?Okay.?

He looks out the window and we're silent for a moment, except I'm still arguing with him in my head, and the main thing I'm thinking is: Look at you, using your best friend to get you halfway across the country for a two-day visit with your girlfriend. Is that what it means to need someone?

Persephone comes with our plates. ?And pancakes and eggs for you,? she says, meeting my eyes. I smile back and thank her.

When she's gone, Tanner takes up the argument again. ?Everyone needs someone, Jasper. We wouldn't be human without one another.? He takes a bite of his omelet, chews thoughtfully. ?But you're misreading her.? He gestured in her direction with his fork. ?She's an experienced server who knows what she needs to do for a tip. Period. I saw it all the time at Perkins.? He'd bussed tables there for a couple years in high school.

I put my fork down and just stare at him. ?Or maybe she's just nice. Maybe she's just good.?

He nods and twirls his fork. ?Yeah, she's a regular Mother Theresa.?

?If half the world were that decent?hell, if I could be half as nice as her, then?.?

?Then what??

I open my mouth, but I've lost the thread. What am I looking for, here? I felt like I was onto something, but suddenly, I'm on shaky ground. Maybe it's all that simple: she's just after a bigger tip.

Tanner sees me floundering and takes pity on me. ?Aw, don't worry about it. Let's talk about something else.?

We steer the conversation to safer things?politics, classes, what to do in Seattle. The news from Tanner's girlfriend.

?How was the food?? Persephone asks as we're finishing up, and I give her two thumbs up. ?Good! Well, can I get you anything else??

Tanner gives me a sly look. ?Jasper here might want to ask you out,? he says, calm as you please. ?I think he's kind of sweet on you.?

Her mouth drops open a little, and then her hands fly up to her mouth as she laughs. ?Oh,? she says, and laughs again. ?Well, I'm sure he already has a girlfriend. They must be lined up around the block!?

?Not exactly,? I say, a smile frozen to my face. ?And we need to hit the road. We're trying to make Seattle by Wednesday. Tanner's got a girlfriend there.?

?Oh, isn't that sweet!? Persephone exclaims. ?That's so romantic. You're lucky to have a friend to keep you company on the way out there.?

She leaves to get the check and I cast murderous eyes in Tanner's direction. ?You little??

?What?? he laughs. ?I'm just trying to help you out, buddy. And she didn't say no.?

He excuses himself to go to the restroom. While he's gone, Persephone swings by with the check.

?Hey, I like your t-shirt,? she says.

I look down and die a little when I realize I'm wearing my mildly geeky Doctor Who t-shirt.

?Which Doctor is your favorite?? she asks.

?Um?.?

?New series, I'm a Tennant girl. Old series, I waffle between Pertwee and Davison,? she says. Her eyes are twinkling.

?Really?? I say, genuinely amazed?that she'd skip over Jodie Whittaker, for starters?but also that she's doing this thing?which I'm not one hundred percent sure what she's doing, exactly, but I think this might be her way of smoothing things over for me?making sure I know everything's cool.

We're still talking when Tanner comes back from the restroom, and we're still talking and laughing five minutes later, despite Tanner's not-so-subtle hints that he's antsy to hit the road. I ignore him, and he skulks out to wait in the car.

A minute later, the door opens, and Persephone excuses herself to greet the new customers. I take out my wallet and lay down a twenty-dollar tip. I think I'm going to sneak out without her noticing, but as I'm pushing out the door, I hear her call from across the room. All she says is ?bye,? but the way she inflects the word I hear: It was very good to meet you today; I wish we could've talked longer.

Out in the parking lot, I start the engine without saying a word.

?Did that make you happy?? Tanner asks

When I don't answer, he turns on the radio, but I turn it off. ?No radio,? I say. ?I need to think.?

?Come on,? he says, and turns the radio back on.

I reach over and turn it off.

?Just to let you know,? he says darkly, ?if you want to be half as nice as that girl, you're not even close to the mark.?

I've been backing out of the parking spot, but now I brake and just look at him. He bugs his eyes out at me, trying to get me to laugh, but when I don't, he sighs sulkily, slouching down against the door to wait me out.

And for two hours, all is quiet, except for the semis and the wind whistling in the windows. I know he thinks I'm thinking about Persephone, but I'm not. Okay, maybe a little But mostly I'm thinking about us?Tanner and me. I'm thinking about how we've been friends for more than half our lives, and I'm wondering whether it's exactly right to call it a friendship if you never really chose it.

And here's another thought I'm having for the first time: Is it really a friendship if only one of you needs the other? Is it really a friendship if one of you is nothing more than the other's shadow?

?Wanna do something fun?? Tanner asks again. He's looking at a beat-up copy of Roadside America.

I look over at him like I'm seeing him for the first time. As if we were newly introduced strangers, trying to decide which way this thing might break. And I'm wondering who I would be right now if it weren't for all those years of being Tanner's shadow.

Someone who wouldn't launch rockets, or go rafting down a flooded highway, or steal a tank of helium to throw an impromptu party for the neighborhood kids, I think. Probably not someone who'd be able to talk to a strange girl, either.

And then a corner of my mouth tugs up. Where'd that come from? I wonder, but Tanner looks relieved.

?Because if you're done?? he starts to say, then catches himself. ?Um, coming up in about an hour, we have a choice between peering into a Minuteman II nuclear missile silo, or we can see a six-ton concrete prairie dog that marks the site of a real prairie dog town.? He raises his eyebrows as if to say, The world's a stranger place than I imagined.

I look back at him and smile?for real, this time. ?Neither. Let's swing down through Badlands National Park.?

He looks at me curiously, then nods. ?Okay.?

?Okay.?

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I had a friend who was a competitive eater as the result of being a Jehovah's Witness. Because of his religion, Ben wasn't allowed to celebrate holidays like Easter or Christmas, or even his own birthday. Ben had to stand in the hallway as the rest of us celebrated our pagan rituals, like the fertility rite of hunting for colored eggs, tree worship, and blowing out candles endowed with wish-granting magic. So, Ben got his kicks by becoming a competitive eater.

That Friday Ben and I were walking to the cafeteria. We were both very excited because it was the day of the big competition. The Foot Long Hotdog contest. For us at Emerald Isle Elementary, this was our Super Bowl. Our two fastest eaters were finally going head-to-head after weeks of insults, threats, and bets between both camps. Now, it was time. Ben versus Bradley, the eating competition of the millennium.

?Did you bring the dollar?? said Ben. 

?Yeah,? I said. ?I've got it here in my pocket.?

Behind a glass divider, pillars of steam rose from stainless steel vats as the lunch ladies prepared our food. We got our foot long hot dogs and tater tots, and pushed our trays down the line to the cashier. ?That'll be a buck twenty.? 

I gave my money to the cashier, but Ben had a free lunch card in his wallet, which he flashed like an FBI agent as he walked by her. 

The tables in the cafeteria were arranged into long rows. We sat as far away from the teachers' table as possible. Beside us, three boys were having a chocolate-milk chugging contest. The referee told the racers to put their money on the table, then instructed them to open their cartons.?On your mark, get set...chugg!? Both boys were chugging, but the one with spiky hair slammed his empty carton on the table first, and collected the money. Chocolate milk chugging contests were good sport, but nothing could distract us from the challenge ahead. 

The lunchroom was beginning to fill up. We had some boys on our side of the table. Some of Bradley Mitchell's goons sat across from us, but I ignored them. 

?How you feeling, Champ?? I said. 

?Hungry,? Ben said through a mouth of tater tots. 

?Good,? I said. ?It's a sure thing. Just do like we practiced.?

?Here he comes,? said one the goons. 

Bradley sat down. ?Hope you said your prayers, Jesus Boy. You're going to need all the help you can get.? 

?Shut your mouth,? I told Bradley. ?Your breath smells like a foot-long turd.?

?What's the matter, Tallon? Jesus Boy can't speak for himself?? 

Ben sat like a statue, staring down Mitchell, just as we discussed.

?He doesn't have to speak,? I told Bradley. ?He's about to be crowned Eating Champion of Emerald Isle.? 

I reached into my pocket and slapped the dollar on the table. Mitchell put his money down, as did others. The referee was a loudmouth kid whose father was a boxing nut. He picked up the money and said:

?Alright, both of y'all are professionals, so I expect a good, clean race. I don't want any shin-kicking under the table, or any other funny stuff. You guys got that?? They both nodded. ?Protect your plate at all times, and at my signal, come out chewing. Racers take your mark, get set?.eat!? 

Mitchell picked up his foot-long and took a bite, then another, and another. Ben was still sitting with his hands on the table, staring at Mitchell. The kids at the table stared at Ben with a kind of fascination. Is he going to eat? 

Ben turned to me, and when I nodded, he picked up his foot long. Ketchup and mustard swelled up from the bun. He took his first bite the way heavyweight fighters punch when going for the knockout. His fingers directed the foot-long through his lips and down to his stomach. A gasp arose from the spectators. Bradley was fast, but Ben was like a hot dog eating machine. When Mitchell glanced up and saw that Ben had already caught him, I saw fear in his eyes. 

?That's right, Mitchell, you're going down!? 

Mitchell's goons began chanting, ?Brad! Brad! Brad!? and pounding their fists on the table. There was an electric feeling in the air. Bradley was munching down fast, but still had a few inches of hot dog left when Ben crammed the last of his foot-long into his mouth. I pumped my fist in victory, then pointed my finger in Bradley's face. 

?We win! You lose!? 

I reached out for the money, but the referee said, ?Wait!? I gave him a look, then turned to Ben. Something seemed off, but I didn't know why? 

Ben's eyes were glassy and his face was turning red before my eys. He grabbed his throat. Somebody at the table said, ?Uh oh.? Then Ben opened his mouth, and gasped like a fish. His face trembled. Everyone at the table looked on. I knew that Ben was choking, and I was immobilized by fear. I couldn't move. Then someone said, ?Slap him on the back!? 

I struck his back with my hand three times. Whomp! Whomp! Whomp! But it didn't help.

Suddenly, Ben shot up from his seat and began punching himself in the stomach, again and again. When that didn't work, he leapt like a dolphin, bellyflopping onto the table, sending silverware and trays flying into the air, and clanging and clattering back down. He threw himself upon the table again and again.  

?Reach in and pull it out!? someone said.

?No way!? another said. ?I'm not sticking my fingers in there!? 

Finally, Ben planted his hands on the table, opened his mouth wide, and began to push. It looked like his face was giving birth. One of Bradley's goons said, ?I can see it!? Soon, we all saw something: a tapered tip poking out. There was a slick, peeling sound as the hot dog slowly slid out of his throat. It hung there, seven, eight, nine?ten inches of meat dangled from his open mouth before?

Plop! 

There, in the center of the table, sat the foot long. I stared at it?everyone did. It was fully intact, without a single bite mark on it. 

?Holy crap!? someone said. ?He swallowed it whole!? 

?Like a snake!? said one of Bradley's goons.

I didn't want to look up, but when I did, Bradley was cramming the last bite of hot dog into his mouth. He indulgently blotted the corners of his lips with a napkin and raised his fists in victory, the jerk. 

?Bradley wins!? said the referee.

"Damn it!" I said, then turned to Ben.

His face was wet with tears and sweat. A long, thin rope of spit connected his chin to the table. He looked disgusting. He disgusted me. I was staring at the saliva rope when Ben caught his breath.

?What's wrong with you?? he shouted. ?I almost choked to death, you jerk!?

?Me?? I said. He'd never spoken to me like that before. ?How is this my fault?? 

?You're not my friend!? Ben said, ?You were just using me!? Then he stormed off toward the exit. A teacher tried to ask him where he was going, but Ben yelled, ?Leave me alone!? and marched by her. 

?Looks like your golden boy choked, Tallon.? 

When Bradley said that, something inside of me snapped. 

?Choke on this,? I said, then picked up the foot long and slapped Mitchell across the face with it. Bradley's eyes got big, and he jumped up like he was going to come across the table. Of course, he didn't have the guts to do it. That was the thing I hated most about him: No guts, even after someone slaps his face with a wiener. 

I picked up my tray, carried it to another table, and stared into a sad puddle of ketchup until the lunch bell rang. 

They say the true test of sportsmanship isn't if you win, but how you handle losing. I tried to convince Ben to compete again, but he said that his near-death experience was a sign from God, and vowed never to participate in another eating contest again. Which was sad, because it was the only exciting thing left in Ben's life that wasn't against his religion.

Eliza entered the living room. A place she normally avoided. But this was important. ?Mom, may I go to the dance Friday evening. I did everything you wanted done. The oven is clean. So is the refrigerator. And the bathrooms. I scrubbed all the floors, vacuumed, dusted and all the other things on the list.? 

Eliza waited for her mother to answer. She needed to keep her end of the bargain.

?No.? The one word, without her ever looking up at Eliza, felt like a asteroid had blasted into her. 

?You promised if I did everything I could go.?

?I said no.?

?Why??

Her mother raised her head, eyes like lasers drilling into her. ?Because I said so.?

Discussion over. Defeat spilled over, sending her hope spinning into oblivion. Should have known. Always the same answer.

At sixteen Eliza expected to have some freedom. But no, she wasn't allowed to participate in any activities beyond her classes. That included choir, band, or any club. She wasn't even allowed to go to the library to study. The only thing she was allowed out to do was to go to school, and that came about when social services insisted she be in school to learn socialization skills.

No matter what she wanted to do, if it involved money or going out, the answer was a resounding no. At home, her mother insisted she stay in her room other than for meals. That meant she was a prisoner in her own home.

Pivoting, Eliza left her mother and went to her room and turned on her music loud enough that her mother couldn't hear anything else. She put the sign on her door that read, ?No, I don't want food. No I don't want to talk. I want to be left alone.?

The sign was her push back at her mother. Since she wasn't allowed in the rest of the house, her mother wasn't allowed in her room without her permission. Like her mother, she always said no.

Eliza plopped down on the bed. No matter what her mother's reasoning, there wasn't a good excuse to keep her locked in the house. Time to become that rebellious teen.

She was prepared for the worst. If her mother threw her out, she had money. Money she had pilfered from her mother over the past then years in ten to twenty dollar increments every week. That was the allowance her mother wouldn't give her for being the house slave without even a thank you for doing all the dirty work. 

Elia didn't feel guilty. That five thousand was earned. Every last penny.

The illusion of her mother caring about her disappeared when she was five and was locked in her room for being too noisy. Same with the missing father who left and never bothered to come see her or call her or even acknowledge she was alive. Neither one of them wanted her in their life.

Friday evening, her mother stopped her when she entered the house from school. ?I want to you stay in your room tonight. I have company coming over and the last thing I need is you messing it up.?

?May I get something to eat?? 

Eliza didn't think her mother was going to answer. ?Fix a sandwich and take it to your room. Do not come back downstairs, understand??

She made her sandwich and swiped a small bag of potato chips, a soda and three bottles of water before going to her room. She turned on her music then put her sign out to leave her alone before closing the door and doing a fist pump.  School dance, here I come. 

Her mother wouldn't notice her leaving or coming back. She'd be too busy. And going up and down the trellis was easy and wouldn't make any noise.

Eliza was dressed and on her way to the school by six, climbing down the trellis she had made sure was sturdy and well anchored to the house for this very reason. The plan to sneak out and do things she finalized several years ago. She even tested the route while fixing the trellis over the years, surprised her mother didn't catch on to what she was doing when she took it to just below her bedroom window. 

Alicia and Destiny were waiting on her at the corner. She had told them she was attending the dance that afternoon in school, already planning her escape.

?Wow. Your mother actually let you come,? Alicia said before giving her a hug. 

?I guess she felt guilty after all the work I did around the house. I do have a curfew, so let's go and have some fun while I'm out of my cage.? That was how Eliza saw her room. A cage where her mother put her so she didn't have to deal with her. 

They entered the gym, giggling over a comment Destiny had given on the most popular girl in their class. Mr. Watson frowned when he noticed her. ?Does your mother know you're here??

Eliza sent him a bright smile that hid her trembling insides. ?Of course she does. She said if I didn't get into any trouble she'd think about allowing me to do more things.?

?Alrighty then. Have fun.?

Riley joined them. ?Great. Everyone's here. Let's go and show the others how to dance.?

The four friends joined the other dancers. For Eliza, it was like being in gym class. Their teacher used dance for exercise, saying it was better than a lot of the standard exercises. Dancercise was how she stayed in shape in while caged in her room. 

By the end of the first dance, Riley and Alicia left them to dance with Declan and Cash, their boyfriends. She and Destiny continued to dance together, having fun. 

Jason, Destiny's boyfriend showed up and she went with him, leaving Eliza alone. Unwilling to dance by herself, she got some food and punch and sat at one of the small tables by herself. 

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She forgot they had boyfriends. 

She pushed the thought away and began to nibble on a sandwich, eyes down to avoid seeing the others laughing at her. 

?May I sit with you??

Eliza's head popped up. Regis. Her crush. Not that he knew it.

?Sure,? she said with a slight shrug hoping the heat going over her face didn't turn it red.

?I haven't seen you at any of the dances before.?

?Mother issues. Got a pass for the evening, then it's back to jail.?

Regis sighed. ?I get it. I'm not allowed out much either.?

Eliza stared at him trying to wrap her mind around his words. The most popular boy in school was on a short leash too? ?So you don't go to everything??

?Nah. I study a lot and spend a lot of time wishing I could. Then again, I'd probably not get good grades if I did.?

?Same here. Being stuck at home does make studying more inviting, especially if you aren't allowed to watch TV.?

?Or don't have a phone.?

?You don't have a phone either?? Now her face had to be red from blurting out stupid stuff.

?I'd have to pay for the phone and the monthly charges. I have better places to put my money.?

?Mama said a cell phone was a total waste when you see the people you'd be calling every day.?

?You have a computer and internet, right??

?Sure. I do my homework on it.?

?Email??

?Of course.?

?Give me your email address.?

Eliza rattled it off and he wrote it down. He then wrote something on a piece of the paper, tore it off and handed it to her. It was his email address.

?I wanted to ask you out a while back, but Declan said you weren't allowed to date.?

Eliza bent the truth. ?Normally I'm not allowed out. This was earned with three weeks of hard labor.? He didn't need to know her mother still said no and she snuck out.

?In that case, let's not waste a perfectly good dance sitting on the sidelines.?

Eliza joined him on the dance floor. A few songs later, she joined him in her first slow dance. It was a heady feeling, but she had plans and getting in trouble with a boy wasn't one of them. 

They spent the rest of the evening dancing. At the end of the dance, he walked her to the corner where they would go different directions. He gave her a hug and kissed her forehead. ?I hope we can repeat this again sometime in the future. I'll let you know the next time I can get out.?

?Sounds good.?

?See you Monday.?

?Right.?

The three girls joined her when Regis strode off into the dark. Riley said, ?Like, wow. Regis??

?He saw me sitting alone and asked me to dance.?

Destiny turned to Eliza. ?You do know that his parents won't let him go out.?

Eliza couldn't hold back a giggle. ?And my mother does what??

Destiny's mouth formed an O. The other two laughed. Alicia put her arm around Eliza's waist. ?I'm guessing we won't see you again for a while. You and Regis will be good together?prisoners with leave for only a few hours.?

?You got that right.? Maybe being a prisoner wouldn't be so bad if she had a friend to talk to so she didn't feel so isolated.

The next morning, Eliza signed onto her computer and checked her email. There was an email from Regis. ?Had a great time last night. Guessing you're like me and need a friend who understands. Need to let you know I snuck out to go to the dance. Wanted to go to at least one dance this year. Just means I can't do it but once or twice a year.?

Wow. They were more alike than she had guessed.

She sent back, ?Go to messenger on FB. Lizadoolittle10. Friend me.?

A few minutes later, she saw Regomatic25. She accepted his friend request. ?Hi. Now we can talk real time.?

He sent an emoji happy face.

She typed, ?I also left without permission last night. After doing all her dirty work, I felt I earned the right to go like she promised. Like you, don't want to get caught.?

?Just what I need. Someone who isn't going to go ballistic when I can't take them places. Most girls won't give me a chance because I can only see them in school.?

?Good with that,? Eliza typed back. ?Just want a friend who won't forget I exist.?

?I won't forget you exist or that beautiful smile.?

She now had a friend who would talk to her online when not in school. Riley, Alicia, and Destiny would include her in school, but since she didn't have a cell phone, they forgot about her on the weekends and breaks and the summer. Regis wouldn't. 

By the end of the month, she and Regis were considered a couple. Not that they saw each other outside of school. They did meet frequently during school hours and studied together in the library every chance they got. 

They became closer friends with their talks on messenger. On the weekends, Eliza would turn up her music. She would then put in earphones and talk to him through messenger. It was a way of being together and not leaving the house.

The day they announced the prom at school, Regis joined her for lunch. His first words to her were, ?Will you go to the prom with me??

A warm bubble of happiness welled up only to pop with a cold dash of reality. ?I'm positive Mama won't give me permission to go.?

He took her hand and smiled. ?I'm not asking this time. I'm telling them that I have a date for the prom and am going with or without their permission and that I'll be home by midnight after I make sure my date is home safe.?

?And you think they will???

?Be pissed and nasty for a few weeks, but they'll get over it.?

?In that case, I'll do the same with Mama. I'll tell her I have a date for the prom and am going whether she likes it or not and will be home within a half hour after the prom ends.?

?So you're going with me??

?Yes. Even if I have to sneak out.?

?I can hardly wait. See you in the library for sixth period.? He took off with a big grin on his face. 

Alicia joined her. ?What's Regis so happy about??

?I'm going to the prom with him.?

?Really? But??

?I'm telling my mother I'm no longer her prisoner. I'm going to the prom with Regis and will be home around eleven thirty whether she likes it or not.?

?Good for you.? Alicia stirred her food before asking, ?What will you do if she throws you out??

?Covered. I'll become an independent minor. I have a job if I want it. I also have a full scholarship with a part time job at the university I want to attend.?

?You sure you can handle a job and school??

?Positive.? Eliza would do whatever it took to get her degree and a good job. 

When Eliza got home from school, her mother was in the living room. No time like now to let her mother know that about the prom.

Before she could speak, her mother raised her head. The icy blue eyes pinned Eliza to the floor. ?I hear you're going to the prom with Regis Wilson.? 

Eliza ignored the underlying angry dare in her mother's voice. ?I am. That's the reason I wanted to talk to you.?

?Talk.?

?First of all, I'm seventeen and graduating in a month. You've taught me right and wrong where boys are concerned. I know Regis will be a gentleman. As of today, I'll no longer ask your permission to go anywhere. What I will do is let you know where I'll be and when I'll be home. It's past time for me to have a normal teen life.?

She didn't look away from her mother's angry glare. ?You have refused to give me a reason why you've kept me a prisoner in this house. Telling me because you said no is no longer a valid answer.?

The hateful look on her mother's face sent Eliza back a step. ?You can leave any time you want, but if you come home knocked up, don't look for any help or sympathy from me.?

?Why?? Eliza asked, needing to know the reason for her anger.

?I made the mistake of getting drunk during my prom. None of us remembered what happened that night. I married my date a month later.

?But you didn't love him.?

?Wrong. I did. I believed it was him I was with that night. Instead it was his best friend.?

?So you refused to let me out to make the same mistake.?

Her mother didn't answer.

Eliza now understood. Her father wasn't her father. His best friend was. Neither man wanted anything to do with her.

?It wasn't my fault your husband left you. You needn't worry about me repeating your mistake. I don't drink. Regis and I both have plans to complete our education. If we stay together, great. If we don't, I had the experience of being with a man who understands me and is my best friend. Like me, his parents haven't allowed him out.?

?And he's doing like you are, telling them he's taking you to the prom.?

?He is. I love you mom, but I'll not be that obedient little girl any longer. I need the freedom to learn how to make my own choices.?

She pivoted and left the room. Hopefully her mother understood that she didn't want to the freedom to run wild?just enough to go to the prom and maybe meet Regis for a pizza or a movie once a month. Her future didn't include having a baby until she had her education completed and a decent job. Regis felt the same away.

Four years later

Eliza met Regis's gaze from the doorway. The the wedding march sent excitement zinging through her. She walked down the aisle of the small chapel without an escort in a gown of white. Even though there was only a handful of people there, she wanted the white gown, symbolizing her virginity and love for the man she was marrying. 

For four long years, they went to school and studied while remaining in contact via the internet. During breaks they did fun the fun things best friends did, enjoying being together in person.

Regis asked her to marry him the summer before their senior year. When she said yes, they planned the wedding for the week after they graduated.

She was marrying her best friend. Her mother and his parents refused to attend the wedding, still angry at their rebellion against them. Neither she or Regis cared. Their parents were the ones who would end up losing the most by not seeing them or the children they would have. 

By her mother forbidding her to go to that one dance and her having planned her escape long before she used it, she met her soul mate. Today, they were showing the world the love they had found. Sometimes being forbidden to do things and breaking the rules did have a happy ending.