Obscuring the truth: reading realistic fiction; One Big Mess 8

One Big Mess

1. “Hey, Mom . . . ” Theodora nonchalantly sidled up to her mom’s home office desk; her mom’s eyes stayed focused on the screen in front of her.
2. “What’s up, honey?”
3. Theodora mentally crossed her fingers and asked, “You know the beach party tonight—I can still go, right?”
4. “Sure, you can still go; just remind me what we agreed yesterday.”
5. “You mean, like, be home by 9 p.m., and . . . stay with my friends?”
6. “Right—and?”
7. “Uh . . .” Theodora was stumped: no swallowing gum? No talking politics and religion? No tempting raccoons with Cheetos to get them to follow you home and become your pet? That had just been that one time.
8. Theodora’s mom broke the suspense. “We made a deal that you’d clean your room by lunchtime today, remember?” Was that just a smidgen of disparagement in her voice?
9. “Oh, that—right, of course!” Theodora definitely hadn’t forgotten about that at all.
10. “So it’s done already?”
11. “Uh, mostly.” To be fair, Theodora had picked up at least one sock this morning. Her mom turned to face her.
12. “Theodora, I believe you’re responsible enough to go to the beach party and stay safe. You just need to finish cleaning your room before lunch like we said, and you’ll be good to go.”
13. “You’re the best, Mom,” gushed Theodora, radiating unshakeable self-possession and confidence in her ability to complete the task with minimal effort and time to spare, before heading upstairs to get underway. Closing her door quietly but firmly, Theodora surveyed the crime scene before her: uggggghhhhhh . . . how was she even going to get started with this hot mess of a room, with its mountains of clothes, dirty dishes, and discarded wrappers?
14. Focus, Theodora, focus. The thing to do now was not to give in to despair, but to center herself with inner peace and forgiveness. That was it: one of those meditation videos her social studies teacher was always talking about. This’ll just take a few minutes, Theodora assured herself, pulling out her phone and navigating to YouTube, and it will totally save time overall because I’ll be even more productive after meditating. What could possibly go wrong?
15. “Theodora! You want a grilled cheese?” Her mother’s muffled-yet-dulcet tones wafted up the stairs, through the closed bedroom door, and gently found their way into Theodora’s snoozing mind: mmm, a grilled cheese would be nice . . . wait, grilled cheese? What time is it—aaaaarggghh! Scrambling for her phone, Theodora faced the horrible truth: 1:03 pm. Curse that meditation video—now there was no way she was going to—
16. “Theodora!” Her mom’s footsteps on the stairs snapped her into action.
17. “Uh . . . just finishing up, Mom, don’t come in—I mean, I’ll be right down.”
18. Theodora sprang into action and hurled herself out of bed, before a succession of slapstick happenings ensued. She immediately lost her balance, almost regained it again, used her very best endeavor to get her footing in a pile of discarded sweatpants that treacherously concealed a skateboard of all things, which she, of course, landed on and set in motion, and which in return sent her careening smack into the bookshelf, bringing a stack of textbooks and empty soda cans toppling down on her, as she fell to the floor with a resounding thunk.
19. For a moment, all was calm. Theodora felt the top of her forehead: no blood.
20. “What’s going on up there. Are you OK?” her mom called out. That’s when Theodora knew: she’d never make it to the door before her mom opened it and saw the squalor all around; there was only one thing for it: she had to get devious.
21. “Owwwww . . . ” Theodora moaned with all the feigned pain she could summon.
22. “Theodora!” The door swung open. “Are you OK? Oh my goodness, how on earth did you let your room get in this state?”
23. “It really hurts, Mom,” Theodora interjected quickly, “I think I hit my head on the bookcase, ooohhhh . . . ”
24. “Let’s take a look at you.” That was definitely a hint of sympathy in her mom’s voice. It was a long shot, but playing the pity card was all Theodora had left now.
25. “Well, your head’s still attached as far as I can tell.” Hope could be slipping away; Theodora had to act fast.
26. “It hurts a lot . . . ” she sniveled, even managing to squeeze out a few tears.
27. “Aw, you lie down. I’ll be right back with an ice pack.” Her mom headed downstairs, and Theodora was alone again with her thoughts. Actually, her mom was pretty all right when she thought about it; she always took care of Theodora, no matter what. And it was at that moment that the epiphany came: a feeling of remorse, yes, but also one of relief: I may be a massive slob, thought Theodora, and a master procrastinator . . . but I’m not a liar.
28. Her bedroom door opened again; her mom came in, handed her the ice pack, and sat down beside her. Theodora took a deep breath, and began, “Uh, Mom . . . about what just happened . . . ”

Practice question