My Mother’s Cult and the Repo Man

Or, how to grow up fast in three weeks

Photo by Joe Pee on Unsplash

A couple of weeks before my junior year of high school I picked out the all-important first day of school outfit. The outfit that would set the tone for the rest of the year. Like, the effortlessly cool girls would look cool no matter what, but I really had to work at what and who I wanted to be. In my mind, this outfit could make or break me.

It didn’t matter that I’d known almost everyone since we were little kids. There was still time to be someone new. Do something new. Would there be any new boys in my small town to crush on? Everyone dates everyone in a small pool until there’s no one left but the steady couples and a bunch of angsty kids who wish they lived in the city.

We went over to the city to shop and sometimes to play, but god help you if you didn’t catch the last ferry home so you could sneak in the back door well after curfew, hoping your mom was asleep, and don’t forget to skip that squeaky step on the stairs. If you missed the boat you’d spend the night sleeping in your car on the ferry dock for five hours until the first ferry of the morning slowly chugged you across Puget Sound toward your doom and at least a month of being grounded. At least.

I went with a bright yellow pair of painter pants and a short-sleeved, white velour…