My watch says 9:00 by the time Nick pulls up at the door of my house. I had decided to let him drive me home, even though I could have. I'm so psyched about finally learning to drive, that I scramble out the door, almost tripping.

"Your welcome!" He shouts, even though I never said thanks.

I wave. "I'll text you."

He smiles, then rolls up his window and drives away. I stare as the car disappears down the rain-sodden road, illuminated by the bright streetlights. The soft hum of the engine can be heard until the Bentley turns the corner a few blocks down.

I turn back to the mansion, noting the dim yellow lamps attached to the wall next to the front door. My mother has some kind of automatic lighting system operating day and night, though I'm pretty sure it's just motion-activated.

I dig into my pocket, retracting the set of keys my mother gave me. I'm not even sure what half the keys unlock, but she said that a proper key chain has more than just one key.

I have marked the house key with a piece of pink duct tape stolen from my mom, so I can easily find it. I carefully place the metal key in the keyhole, then, turning, unlock the door. Pushing against the wood, I enter the living room, tucking my keys back into my jeans pocket.

My mother is sitting on the L-shaped couch, looking at me expectantly.

My first notion is to tell her all about the date: the kiss, the car, the drive. But I catch myself. This would probably send her into another my-baby-girl-is-growing-up phase, which would not be good for either of us.

Instead, I say, "Hey, mom."

"Micah." My mother voice sounds forced, as if she is trying to hold back from screaming. This isn't good. "Where the hell were you?!"

"I had a date," I supply.

"With whom?"

I forgot I hadn't told her about Nick. If I tell her, she'll think that her little plan at the party worked, and the one thing you never want to do is encourage my mother.

"This boy at school," I say, shrugging.

"Name?" She questions as if she's writing this down. I actually wouldn't put it past her to keep a journal of her daughter's dates.

"Norman," is the name that pops out of my mouth. Darn it.

"Hmmm, sounds Norwegian," she says, intensely studying her fingernails. I notice that they have been freshly manicured with a coat of thick, hot pink paint, and her thumbnail is adorned with a silver flower.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever, mom, I'm going to my room." I cross the living room, climb the wooden spiral staircase to the second floor, then skid down the hallway to my bedroom door. I don't notice in time that my bed is not in place as I swing open the door, so it bangs loudly against the wall. I cringe at the sound.

"It was the door!" I holler over the railing, down into the room in which my mother is seated. The second floor is really only half a floor. It is just a strip of hallway, doors on one side, and a fancy metal railing on the other side.

I'm pretty sure this floor is one of the main reasons my mother bought the house. She has always adored the spiral staircase, though she also wished for floating steps. The rooms are also very spacious, and she even said that the house was "unique" in the way that the second story only covered half of the family room below.

I leap onto my bed, pulling out my phone. The only part of my room I really use is the bed, so most of the floor is just covered in clothes and other items. This is another reason I keep my mom out of my room.

I type in the password, then tap on the messages icon. I select the conversation with Nick, typing in the question.

There is a boy at school who asked me to prom. Is it okay if I go with him?

I wait a few seconds, staring at the thinking bubble and lightly scratching the blue case with my long fingernail, then a reply pops up.

Would I still be your boyfriend?

I laugh. Yes. Duh.

Would you go to a movie with me afterwards?

Sure.

Then, as your designated boyfriend, I give you permission to go to prom with another boy. I can picture Nick saying this, smiling and giggling.

Thanks. I reply.

After a few seconds of nothing, another texts pops up from Nick.

Did you have fun tonight?

Of course I did. I type, smiling. Thanks for teaching me to drive.

Your mom wasn't mad?

I didn't tell her, stupid. Duh. Would he tell his mom?

Oh, okay.

I click off my phone, tossing it accurately across the room to land on a huge pillow. I fall backwards, landing softly on the thick mattress. My sheets are on the floor, tangled in a huge mass of fabric, a few feet away from the bed.

I reach down and pick them up, throwing them on top of myself. After messily flattening them out over my body, I close my eyes.

I am just about to doze off, still fully-clothed, when I hear Alex's voice shouting up the stairs. I sit up straight, focusing my eyes. Then I swing my legs off the bed, stand up, and scurry down the hallway.

"What?" I ask, leaning over the metal railing. My fingers curl around the twisted black design, collecting dust.

Below me, Alex grins. "I hear you went on a date tonight!"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, so what?"

"So, my little dumpling is growing up!"

I roll my eyes again, exaggerating the motion of annoyance. If my mom doesn't do it, Alex does. And the little nicknames are not appreciated.

"So true," I reply sarcastically.

"You know who my first date was with?" Alex asks, a grin spreading across his face.

"No."

"Your mother."