Watch Me Disappear

section of the paper and comes to stand across from me.
    “I’m not crazy about this new sleep schedule you’re on,” she says.
    I don’t say anything. I just shovel another bite of cereal into my mouth.
    “You’ve never been one to sleep half the day.”
    “I’ve just been really tired,” I say, wiping milk from my chin.
    “From all the homework you’ve been doing?” she asks.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “I haven’t seen you crack a book since Thanksgiving.”
    “I’m doing fine in school,” I say, getting up to put my bowl in the sink.
    “Report cards come out this week, so we’ll see, won’t we?”
    “Yeah,” I say. “We will.”
    “Mrs. Morgan called this morning.”
    I feel blood rushing to my face. My mother wouldn’t bother telling me her friend called if it didn’t somehow involve me and something I’ve done wrong.
    “She’s worried about Maura,” my mother says, her tone softening. “That girl is giving her parents a world of grief.”
    I don’t say anything. I’m waiting to see where this is going.
    “Has she seemed okay to you?” she asks. “I told Mrs. Morgan I’d talk to you, see if you knew if anything was up.”
    “She’s seemed fine to me. Same as ever.”
    “She hasn’t been acting differently? Has she seemed depressed?”
    I shake my head.
    “Do you think she’s taking drugs?” my mother asks gravely.
    “You’re kidding, right?”
    “I need to ask. It’s what mothers do.”
    “I’d better go do my homework,” I say.
    My mother regards me. “So you think Maura is totally fine, and there’s no particular reason you two were exchanging millions of text messages over Christmas break and racking up this ridiculous phone bill,” she says, tossing the pages of my phone bill onto the kitchen table.
    I am defeated. I knew I’d have to face this down eventually.
    “Hand over your phone,” she says, extending her arm toward me, palm up.
    I place the phone in it. I wonder if my parents are savvy enough to know how to read my text messages. I don’t think they are, but I’m not certain. Why did I leave all those messages in the phone?
    “Two weeks,” she says. “And then we’ll talk about whether or not you can have it back.”
    I head back upstairs to pretend to do my homework.
     
    *          *          *
     
    Before two weeks are up, my parents realize it terrifies them to let me take the car without having a cell phone, so I get it back, but only when I have the car, and they called the phone company and disabled all text messaging. Still, I have the car a lot, so I have my phone a lot. They can try to revoke my freedoms, but every day I am getting one step closer to the end of high school—the end of their rules.
    Thursday afternoons I am supposed to have calculus study group. The AP exam is looming ever closer. Missy got everyone on board for weekly study sessions back before Christmas. I need the help. The weeks are flying by so fast I can barely keep track of the date, and now it’s February. I am starting to wonder if I’ll even pass third quarter, let alone do well on the exam, but I blow off study group all the time anyway. Week after week, I let my mom think I am working hard on math, and she lets me take the car so I can stay late after school. Then, instead of studying, Maura and I go to Mel’s Diner or the mall. The minute the last bell rings, I dash to my car, which I park beside Maura’s at the back of the student lot, and follow her wherever she wants. The first time I followed Maura to the mall was the first time I ever drove above eighty miles per hour. I suspect Maura was pushing it, driving faster than normal, just to see if I would keep up. I clutched the wheel with a death grip, but I kept pace.
    “Nice driving,” she said, as I stepped out of the car. “I expected you to be more of a grandma behind the wheel.”
    On the last Thursday in February, Maura wants to get a new outfit for the weekend. Apparently she and Jason have big plans. I wonder what that means, since all they ever do is sit at Jason’s house, drinking, smoking pot, and making out. Sometimes they order pizza or Jason asks Maura to take him to the drive thru at McDonald’s.
    “You know Jason’s life is just so different from mine,” Maura says, looking through racks of dresses at Forever 21. “When I suggested we go out this weekend, you know, on a real date, he was totally baffled. It’s not like he and his mom