The Perks of Being a Wallflower

watching a tennis match through the windshield because they just kept shaking their heads. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t look back. I should point out, though, that my dad slowly started turning the Christmas music on the radio to a deafening volume.
    “You are so full of shit. How would you know anything anyway? You haven’t been to college. Kelly didn’t go through anything like that.”
    “Oh, yeah… like she’d tell you.”
    “Yeah… she would. We don’t keep secrets.”
    “Oh, you’re such a sensitive new age guy.”
    I wanted them to stop fighting because I was starting to get upset, so I asked another question.
    “Do you talk about books and issues?”
    “Thank you for asking, Charlie. Yes. As a matter of fact we do. Kelly’s favorite book just happens to be Walden by Henry David Thoreau. And Kelly just happened to say that the transcendental movement is a close parallel to this day and age.”
    “Oooo. Big words.” My sister rolls her eyes better than anyone.
    “Oh, I’m sorry. Was anyone talking to you? I happen to be telling my younger brother about my girlfriend. Kelly says that she hopes a good Democratic candidate will challenge George Bush. Kelly says that her hope is that the E.R.A. might finally pass if that happens. That’s right. The E.R.A. that you always squawk about. Even cheerleaders think about those things. And they can actually have fun in the meantime.”
    My sister folded her arms in front of her and started whistling. My brother was too much on a roll to stop, though. I noticed that my dad’s neck was getting very red.
    “But there’s another difference between you and her. You see… Kelly believes in women’s rights so much that she would never let a guy hit her. I guess I can’t say that about you.”
    I swear to God, we almost died. My dad hit those brakes so hard that my brother almost flew over the seat. When the smell from the tires started to fade, my dad took a deep breath and turned around. First, he turned to my brother. He didn’t say a word. He just stared.
    My brother looked at my dad like a deer caught by my cousins. After a long two seconds, my brother turned to my sister. I think he felt bad about it because of how the words came out.
    “I’m sorry. Okay? I mean it. C’mon. Stop crying.”
    My sister was crying so hard, it was scary. Then, my dad turned to my sister. Again, he didn’t say a word. He just snapped his fingers to distract her from crying. She looked at him. She was confused at first because he wasn’t giving her a warm look. But then, she looked down and shrugged and turned to my brother.
    “I’m sorry I said what I said about Kelly. She sounds nice.”
    Then, my dad turned to my mom. And my mom turned to us.
    “Your father and I don’t want any more fighting. Especially in the family’s house. Understood?”
    My mom and dad make a real team sometimes. It’s amazing to watch. My brother and sister both nodded and looked down. Then, my dad turned to me.
    “Charlie?”
    “Yes, sir?”
    It is important to say “sir” at these moments. And if they ever call you by your first-middle-last name, you better watch out. I’m telling you.
    “Charlie, I would like you to drive the rest of the way to my mother’s house.”
    Everyone in the car knew that this was probably the worst idea my dad ever had in his whole life. But no one argued. He got out of the car in the middle of the road. He got in the backseat between my brother and sister. I climbed in the front seat, stalled the car twice, and put on my seat belt. I drove the rest of the way. I haven’t sweat that much since I played sports, and it was cold out.
    My dad’s family is kind of like my mom’s family. My brother once said it was like the same cousins with different names. The big difference is my grandma. I love my grandma. Everyone loves my grandma. She was waiting for us in the driveway as she always did. She always knew when someone was coming.
    “Is Charlie driving now?”
    “He turned sixteen yesterday.”
    “Oh.”
    My grandma is very old, and she doesn’t remember things a lot, but she bakes the most delicious cookies. When I was very little, we had my mom’s mom, who always had candy, and my dad’s mom, who always had cookies. My mom told me that when I was little, I called them “Candy Grandma” and “Cookies Grandma.” I also called pizza crust “pizza bones.” I don’t know why I’m telling you this.
    It’s like my very first