BIG SUMMER JOURNAL

When Dad came home, everything was going OK. But then I couldn't find something in my room and we started arguing about how he cleaned my room without asking me or even telling me. That started him on the I'm-the-man-of-the-house-lecture, which made Brett and I furious because he did the same thing to Brett's room last week. So I called Brett up to my room. We decided to "expose Dad" and see how he liked his privacy invaded. See, I know where Dad keeps his two porno movies.

We took one of the movies downstairs, stuck it in the VCR and pushed play, then sat down on our respective couches. I had Brett call Mom and Dad downstairs to "see something." Well, they both came down and they were very surprised when they saw what was on the TV. My Mom yelled really loud "WHAT IS THIS?!?" and my dad started to, too, until he realized it was his porno we were watching. "It's Dad's," Brett said. "We found it in his room." I thought we'd all have a good laugh then, and maybe Dad would realize the value of privacy and that he shouldn't have cleaned my room without asking, but Dad was pissed.

My Mom was yelling at my dad, and my dad was yelling at me. I ran upstairs, my dad close behind, and slammed and locked my bedroom door. I instantly regretted what we had done. But my dad wasn't mad at Brett, he was mad at me. I decided to leave and made a dash to my car. I was pulling out of the garage when my mom ran out, saying, "Get back inside!" I reluctantly came in.

Dad was upstairs. I thought he'd pout in his room all night and not talk to anyone, but he came out and yelled downstairs to me, "Get your ass up here. Now!" There was no way I was going up there. I was scared to death what he'd expose about me. Who knows what he saw while cleaning my room. I ran to the front door and opened it, ready to jump into my car when necessary.

"Get your butt up here or I'll come down there and make a scene."

My mom didn't want me to leave. She was worried about me driving. My dad yelled some more and I told my mom I was going to Nate's and not to worry. Brett told her to let me go. My dad threatened me from upstairs again. I said I wouldn't talk to him until he was "rational." Mom came outside as I was backing out and asked what Nate's phone number was. I asked, "Did I do the right thing, Mom?"

"I don't know," she said.