Liam Pembroke's Rite of Passage

"Speaking," said the lively lady.

"Hi, Mith. My name is Liam Pembroke, and I think my mom emailed you the other day. She said you were gonna, like, babysit me or some (*expletive)?"

"Um, first of all, why are you swearing? And, uh, second of all, I babysit a lot of kids. Could you remind—"

"Okay, so see, this is where we're already gonna have a problem. Because, like, you can't really tell me what to do 'cause I'm a man. So I'm gonna cuth if I want to."

"I'm sorry, I'm having a lot of trouble understanding you. Can you, like, take whatever out of your mouth or something?"

"OOOO! Are you trying to bully me about my braith-es? I have braith-es."

"Okay, you have braces."

"Yes, I have braces," Liam snaps. "I've had them for three (*expletive) years."

"Why are you cussing at me?!"

"Well—because—sorry—I wasn't cuth—" He stops, jaw tight.

"I wasn't cussing at you. I was cussing at the braces. I've had them for so long, I feel like I was born with them, and they bug me. So once I get them off, my teeth are gonna be so straight—"

"Okay, if you can stop swearing at me, we can proceed with this conversation."

"Okay, okay, so I'm sorry. I got a little upset, and maybe it's because of the braces thing, but my mom sent you an email that you're gonna be babysitting me, right?"

"Can you remind me of her name?"

"My mom's name is J-Jenny."

"Okay, Jenny—yes, she's a friend of my mom's. I did get an email from her."

"K, yeah, that's right. That's what I thought," remarks Liam in classic condescending fashion. "So anyway, um, you're gonna be babysitting me, and I know we've never met before, but I want you to know that I'm in the seventh grade now, and so I don't really need anybody to watch me, since I'm a man."

"Um, well, I'm glad that you feel so mature, but—"

"I'm not sure if you heard me. I'm a man, okay?"

"Yeah, well, this is really a conversation I should be having with your mother, yes?"

"Wait—I need to talk to you before she talks to you, because she's a (*expletive) liar, and so—"

"And so, you're swearing again. And you're talking about your mother like that?"

"Well, I'm sorry. I felt like it was appropriate because my mom, like, tells so many lies, and so I figured I should get on the phone with you, and, like, clear things up."

"Okay. I also still can hardly understand you."

"Okay, okay, okay, so I will try to slow down—but you should get a pen out because I'm about to lay down some rules, and you're gonna have to take notes."

"YOU are going to give ME rules about me babysitting YOU."

"Yeah, I'm gonna give you some rules. First of all, no bedtime. Ever."

"What do you mean, no bedtime? Because I don't understand."

"See, it really shouldn't be that hard to understand. Please keep up. So—no bedtime. My mom is gonna tell you something about bedtime, but I don't do it. I party like a (*expletive) rock star, you know what I mean?"

"Uh-whoooa," sighs Miss, playfully irked.

"Last weekend, my friend Brailen came over, and we hung out till, like, two in the morning, slammin' Mountain Dew. We watched, like, so many YouTube videos, it didn't even matter."

"Okay, well, maybe that might work, but I still need to talk to your mom—"

"Oh my gosh," said an exasperated Liam.

"…to make sure everything's okay," finishes Miss.

"So what you're saying is you're a rat?"

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you rat me out to my mom because I stay up late or whatever."

"Rat you out?"

"Yeah, are you a rat?"

"What is going on?"

"What I'm saying to you—"

"You know what? I want to talk to your mother. I want to talk to your mother so I can tell her what a little (*expletive) you are."

"OOOO! OOOO! You said a bad word!"

"I said a bad word, Mr. Expletive-Every-Three-Words?"

"So, you just cuth at a seventh grader? My mom's gonna flip when she hears that you're cussing at me. You're never gonna babysit in this town ever again. Seriously."

"I literally still cannot understand you. Can you please take your Legos out of your (*expletive) mouth?"

“OOOO! OOOO!”

"Oooo, oooo—excuse me," mocks Miss. "So, you can sit there and curse at me this whole time, but I can't say anything?"

"But that's the difference between—"

"I need to talk to your mother."

"But I'm a kid, and you're an adult, so you can't really talk to me that way."

"I thought you were a man. Isn't that what you told me? You're a big man?"

"Yeah, I am—I'm in junior high, now. But just—"

"Listen. This is ridiculous. (*expletive), I don't want to watch you—"

"OOOO! OOOO! I'm gonna add you on Snapchat and flip you off. I'm totally gonna do it."

"What does that even mean?"

"What's your Snapchat? What's your Snapchat? What's your Snapchat?!"

"I'm never giving you my Snapchat, you little (*expletive)!"

"OOOO!"

"Listen, Liam," begins Miss, "I will be contacting your mother to notify her that I choose not to babysit you because of our little conversation today."

"Go for it, Boomer!" responds Liam. "She'll never believe you. She absolutely adores me."

"Boomer?"

"Yeah, Boomer, because you're, like, so old."

"I'll have you know that I'm Gen-Z, you little (*expletive)."

"OOOO! I'm tell—wait." Liam pauses. "What's Gen-Z?"

"Yeeeaah." Miss has an epiphany. "It means that I will babysit you because I know how to handle a problem child."

"I'm a man, Boom—"

"Yes, yes, you are. Which is why when I babysit you, I'm going to let you get all hopped up on Mountain Dew, stay up as late as you want, and do whatever your little heart desires."

"Be warned, I party like a (*expletive) rock star."

"Yes, and when you crash like a rock star, I'm going to shave your eyebrows off while you sleep."

"Huh?"

"Then I'll dip your hand in a bowl of warm water so you end up wetting the bed."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would dare, Liam. In fact, you could very well develop nocturnal enuresis. Do you know what that is, Liam?"

"No," answers Liam under his breath.

"It means your mother will have to put you back in diapers, Liam. Imagine what it's going to be like having everyone at school—and your friend Brailen—wondering why a young man like you still has to wear diapers. When Brailen sleeps over, he'll wonder why his friend, a young man, has rubber sheets on his bed."

Liam wiggles his tight jaw. His cheeks flush, and a tiny frog begins to form in his throat.

"You'll be walking around without any eyebrows to boot," continues Miss. "Sometimes it can take up to 3 months for eyebrows to grow back, did you know that?"

Silence curtains Liam's end of the two-way.

"Li?" asks Miss. After a beat, she realizes he is still on the line—listening, but not responding.

"See you Friday night, Li. We're going to get along just fine. It should be a blast of a time!"

A massive hush pervades Liam's end.

Then a click.

Liam has left the building.