With that last jab at my poor parenting skills, Tegan and I are excused.

I march my daughter out of the school, seething with suppressed rage. It takes a full block of speed-walking before I can form coherent speech again. “You’re grounded, indefinitely. Drinking vodka at school! How could you be so irresponsible, after all the hard work you’ve put into having perfect grades? You’re lucky this won’t affect your permanent record, or you would’ve just blown up your entire life, and for what? To impress some rich kid?”

“Mom, I didn’t even drink that much! It was only a sip.”

I stop walking and turn on her. “Are you really this naïve? Drinking alcohol at your age is illegal, Tegan, even if it’s just a sip! And especially if you do it on school grounds! Why would you do such a thing? Risk your entire future, and for what? You’re not touching another drop of alcohol until you turn twenty-one, do you hear me?”

Tegan scoffs, the demure child gone to be replaced by the surly teenager. “As if you can talk.”

“What does that mean? I’ve never had a problem with alcohol.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right,” Tegan says sarcastically. “So I should steer clear of the booze, but getting myself pregnant and dumped at nineteen is totally fine?”

That’s a low blow. I know it, she knows it, but she’s also not backing down at this point. I take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves before I give in to the urge to slap my daughter for the first time in fifteen years. The temptation is strong right now.

Instead, I outstretch my hand. “Your phone. Hand it over.”

Reluctantly, she does, smacking it in my open palm.

“I will hold on to this, also indefinitely. I’m shutting down the Wi-Fi at home, and from now on you can use your laptop only to do homework. Be this disrespectful again and you’re off the volleyball team for good, no matter if it’s great for your college resume.” Her eyes widen with fear and perceived injustice, but I’m on a roll. “And if I smell another drop of alcohol on you ever again, I’ll have you packed and shipped off to a military school for girls only.”

Tegan doesn’t make any attempt to apologize, but her eyes do widen with dread at my threat. And for now, that will do.

Ten

Lucas

At midday, on Wednesday, I wrap up the last session of the morning, type in a few notes, and then I’m ready to stretch my legs and go out for lunch.

As I walk down the block, I’m surprised to find Medusa’s daughter sitting on a bench with a forlorn expression as she stares right ahead.

I stop next to her, asking, “Another half-day?”