Page 17 of The Commons

Ring. Ring. Ring. I call her. No response.

Again, I try.

And again.

Still no response.

I tried to convince myself that there must be a rational explanation for this. Tomorrow, she’d call and explain, and everything would go back to normal.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

No response.

Levon had missed my call for the second day in a row. It’s okay, she’ll call tomorrow and explain. There’s no way she will not respond at some point, right?

I tried not to think of any deadly thoughts.

My hands instinctively reach to grab my phone at 12:00 noon.

No answer. Dang it! I bang my head against my bed with a sigh.

It was time to face my cold reality.

I drag my feet toward the living room to talk to my mom. I would have told my parents something was wrong earlier, but they were too wrapped up in their ambition and in their daughters becoming successful that they had forgotten about the entire act of parenting, especially my mom. I was only close to my mother when I was little. And I miss her more, everyday.

“Mom, can I talk to you?”

My mom’s face is fixed on her computer screen. She raises her hands to stop my feet from making any further movement. “Shhh, I need quietness. I’m preparing for my press conference tomorrow. What do you need?” she says.

Gently I tiptoe toward her. Tugging on my bottom lip, I try to watch my words in order to avoid saying something that will be too distracting. “Have you talked to Levon recently?”

“Of course not. She’s at school.”

“Right… well I talk to her, occasionally, but she hasn’t picked up for a while now.”

She doesn’t respond. I sit down next to her, but she does not look my way. Annoyed, I shut her laptop screen. “Can you listen to me for once?” I insist.

“Don’t ever do that ever again,” she warns, pointing her finger at my face. She opens her laptop and continues to type. She yawns at my presence, making me uncomfortable and irritated.

“I think Levon is in danger! She said something about The Commons being deathly. We need to help her.”

“Of course it’s deathly. Deathly to laziness and the pursuit of a mediocre life. We do not need to help her. We need to help you figure out what college you would like to go to. World leaders are not made of clueless seniors.”

“Mom, I’m not clueless. I’m most likely going to be the valedictorian, and I just won nationals with my friends.”

“Urgh!” She smacks her hands to her head, seemingly frustrated at something. “Shantavia, just try to win at life by focusing on yourself and letting your sister become great. The Commons is like winning a lottery. Maybe you should go.”

I nod with my mouth half open, but I am too hurt to speak. I walk out.

My dad always supported my mom, like a puppet, so the chance of getting through to him was little to nothing. Yet I had to try, for Levon’s sake.

I barge into my dad’s office and insist that he or mom call the school and ask about Levon. “Dad, Levon is in a deadly place, she used those words herself. All I am asking is just one call to the school.”

“Honey, Levon is in the best school in the entire planet. You guys are teenagers, you use words like dead flippantly.”

“Maybe when someone says—I’m dead—maybe from laughing, but not when someone says a place is deadly. That’s different!”

“Honey, I don’t need an explanation of your generation. Unless you can tell me how to win them over in the polls this Tuesday?”