Page 53 of Hoofin’ It

“How are you doing?”

“Plotting revenge, so not too bad. Yourself?”

“Your father tells me you returned to Chicago.”

“So I did, Mrs. Incubus’s Daughter.”

“You’re not going to be letting go of that anytime soon, are you?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Are you using your new vacuum?”

“No, I’m using my perfectly good vacuum to clean up this mess you helped make. It’s everywhere. What possessed you to use so much?”

“We figured if we contaminated your apartment with enough glitter you’d come home for a visit.”

“You could’ve warned me.”

“Is there enough glitter you’re ready to come back home for a visit?”

“No.”

“Did we not use enough?”

“You used plenty. I have some stuff here I have to take care of. Maybe in a few weeks, assuming you keep your fridge clean and stop tossing pancakes on the ceiling. Also, tell Lewis I’ll be expecting my bike delivered to your garage in perfect condition with a full tank of gas.”

“Now look here, you.”

“No, you look here. I cleaned that toxic wasteland. If you want me to visit in the near future, you’ll keep it clean.”

“Darling, you raised a clean freak,” Mom called out.

“No, you raised a man with self-respect and dignity. That said, I have a lot of cleaning to do to restore what little self-respect and dignity I have left. Bye, Mom. Love you, but never again. Am I clear? Never again.”

She laughed. “All right. No more glitter. For now.”

“No, not for now. Never again.”

“We’ll see.”

“Mom.”

“Take care, sweetie. Call us if you need anything.”

“I need this damned glitter out of my carpet!”

Instead of offering wisdom or a promise never to glitter bomb me again, she hung up. My vacuum chose that moment to give up its will to live, spluttered, and died.

I didn’t blame it, not one bit.

With the help of a lint roller and some strategically placed garbage bags, I managed to escape my apartment without trailing glitter into the hallway. I still had some in my hair, but if anyone asked, I’d blame a random toddler. My parents were essentially overgrown toddlers, so it wasn’t really lying.

I almost made it to my old, beat-up car before a cruiser pulled up. Stripes refused to look me in the eye, but Michelle rolled down her window and leaned out. “Hey, stud. Fancy meeting you here. Goin’ somewhere?”

I turned, leaned against my car, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Stud?”

“It takes a real man to leave his home while… is that glitter?”