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Later that day, I go home before dark.  It’s the first time I’ve done that all week.  I try not to notice the empty cans surrounding the couch in the living room, and I head upstairs immediately for my bedroom.  I don’t bother to shout downstairs to see if Dad’s home.  I don’t really care if he is or not.
I check the calendar on my wall.  Cody said the party was this Friday.  There’s a red circle on my calendar marking Mom’s anniversary.  I count the days from then until now.  It’s Thursday.  Friday is tomorrow!
Panicked, I start for the closet.  What should I wear?  What exactly does one wear to parties?  I have been to only a few in my high school career.  I pulled out a pair of nice jeans (nice, that is, except for the rip up to the knee on the back of the right leg) and a black, only-just-revealing-enough shirt with spaghetti straps and a lacy hem.
I have just started to look for a good pair of shoes when the phone rings.  I run to my bedside table and pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lily.  It’s Brian.”
“Oh, hey, Brian!  What’s up?” I ask.  I love talking on the phone to Brian.  Somehow, it never gets awkward, unlike a lot of phone conversations for me.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says.  “I mean, I’ve called a few times over the past few days, but you didn’t pick up.”
That makes sense; I had left my cell phone at home a few days ago and then I hadn’t been back home since then.  “Sorry,” I say.  “I’ve been … alright.”
I can almost see him frowning at his phone on the other side of the line.  His silence tells me he expects to hear more.
“That is, Dad’s been in one of his ‘moods’ lately, so I haven’t been home much.”
“Crud, I’m sorry to hear that.  Where’ve you been sleeping?”
“In my car.”
“Lily, you know you can always come over to my house to crash!” he says, aggravated.
“Yeah, I know.  I just… I don’t think your mom likes me much anymore.”
He knows that, too, and he can’t argue with it.  “Fine.  But you haven’t been doing anything dirty, have you?”
He means doing drugs or having sex, the notorious NOs of teenagerhood.  “Nope.  I’m clean as a whistle.  Except, of course, for my cigarettes.”
He clucks into the phone, showing his disapproval of my habit.
“You know that will kill you, right?”
I shrug, even though I know he can’t see me.  This is something we’ve been over multiple times before.  “Yeah, Brian.  But I’m going to die anyway.  Why not speed it up a few years?”
“I can’t believe you’d say that,” Brian sighs into the phone.  “Not after your mom…”
“Don’t bring Mom into this!” I say, getting angry with Brian.  “I’ll kill myself when and how I want to!”
Then I realize just how bad that sounds.  “Listen, I’m sorry, Brian.  It’s been a nasty few days.  I don’t want to complain to you.  How are you?”
“It’s fine, Lily.  I’m sorry I snapped at you.  And I’m same old, same old.  Mom’s being a monster again, as usual.”  I know he’s rolling his eyes now.
“Dang, that sucks.  What’s she doing?”
Right then, I hear Brian’s mom, Mrs. Summers, screaming from downstairs, “BRIAN!”
“I have to go.  Hey, Lily?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget about that essay for Ms. Callahan, okay?”
I find myself getting angry – Who is Brian to act like my babysitter? – but I swallow it.  “Sure, Brian.  Sure.”
“See ya bye,” we say simultaneously.  Then there’s a click, and the line goes dead.
I flop back on my bed, sighing.  I need to write that essay, says Good Lily, but Bad Lily insists, I’m already failing; why bother?  I resign to the back of my mind, letting Good Lily and Bad Lily duke it out.  I’ve had enough exhaustion for one day.  Now I’m feeling conflicted over a stupid essay!  Why does Brian care, anyway?  Oops, that was Bad Lily intruding on my personal space in the back of my brain.
It occurs to me then that I sound crazy.  ‘Good Lily and Bad Lily!’  But I’m not, I promise myself.  I don’t actually believe there are two sides of me in my head; it’s just easier to organize the confliction this way.
I push away everything from my mind.  It’s too confusing for me, and I’m going out.  There’s no way I can sit around in this house wondering if I’ll ever do my essay.  I lay my party clothes neatly on the bed and step out of the room.

Description
Later that day, I go home before dark.  It’s the first time I’ve done that all week.  I try not to notice the empty cans surrounding the couch in the living room, and I head upstairs immediately for my bedroom.  I don’t bother to shout downstairs to see if Dad’s home.  I don’t really care if he is or not.
I check the calendar on my wall.  Cody said the party was this Friday.  There’s a red circle on my calendar marking Mom’s anniversary.  I count the days from then until now.  It’s Thursday.  Friday is tomorrow!
Panicked, I start for the closet.  What should I wear?  What exactly does one wear to parties?  I have been to only a few in my high school career.  I pulled out a pair of nice jeans (nice, that is, except for the rip up to the knee on the back of the right leg) and a black, only-just-revealing-enough shirt with spaghetti straps and a lacy hem.
I have just started to look for a good pair of shoes when the phone rings.  I run to my bedside table and pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lily.  It’s Brian.”
“Oh, hey, Brian!  What’s up?” I ask.  I love talking on the phone to Brian.  Somehow, it never gets awkward, unlike a lot of phone conversations for me.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says.  “I mean, I’ve called a few times over the past few days, but you didn’t pick up.”
That makes sense; I had left my cell phone at home a few days ago and then I hadn’t been back home since then.  “Sorry,” I say.  “I’ve been … alright.”
I can almost see him frowning at his phone on the other side of the line.  His silence tells me he expects to hear more.
“That is, Dad’s been in one of his ‘moods’ lately, so I haven’t been home much.”
“Crud, I’m sorry to hear that.  Where’ve you been sleeping?”
“In my car.”
“Lily, you know you can always come over to my house to crash!” he says, aggravated.
“Yeah, I know.  I just… I don’t think your mom likes me much anymore.”
He knows that, too, and he can’t argue with it.  “Fine.  But you haven’t been doing anything dirty, have you?”
He means doing drugs or having sex, the notorious NOs of teenagerhood.  “Nope.  I’m clean as a whistle.  Except, of course, for my cigarettes.”
He clucks into the phone, showing his disapproval of my habit.
“You know that will kill you, right?”
I shrug, even though I know he can’t see me.  This is something we’ve been over multiple times before.  “Yeah, Brian.  But I’m going to die anyway.  Why not speed it up a few years?”
“I can’t believe you’d say that,” Brian sighs into the phone.  “Not after your mom…”
“Don’t bring Mom into this!” I say, getting angry with Brian.  “I’ll kill myself when and how I want to!”
Then I realize just how bad that sounds.  “Listen, I’m sorry, Brian.  It’s been a nasty few days.  I don’t want to complain to you.  How are you?”
“It’s fine, Lily.  I’m sorry I snapped at you.  And I’m same old, same old.  Mom’s being a monster again, as usual.”  I know he’s rolling his eyes now.
“Dang, that sucks.  What’s she doing?”
Right then, I hear Brian’s mom, Mrs. Summers, screaming from downstairs, “BRIAN!”
“I have to go.  Hey, Lily?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget about that essay for Ms. Callahan, okay?”
I find myself getting angry – Who is Brian to act like my babysitter? – but I swallow it.  “Sure, Brian.  Sure.”
“See ya bye,” we say simultaneously.  Then there’s a click, and the line goes dead.
I flop back on my bed, sighing.  I need to write that essay, says Good Lily, but Bad Lily insists, I’m already failing; why bother?  I resign to the back of my mind, letting Good Lily and Bad Lily duke it out.  I’ve had enough exhaustion for one day.  Now I’m feeling conflicted over a stupid essay!  Why does Brian care, anyway?  Oops, that was Bad Lily intruding on my personal space in the back of my brain.
It occurs to me then that I sound crazy.  ‘Good Lily and Bad Lily!’  But I’m not, I promise myself.  I don’t actually believe there are two sides of me in my head; it’s just easier to organize the confliction this way.
I push away everything from my mind.  It’s too confusing for me, and I’m going out.  There’s no way I can sit around in this house wondering if I’ll ever do my essay.  I lay my party clothes neatly on the bed and step out of the room.