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The Josh Taylor Duh-lemma

“Hey, listen up all you Josh Taylor fans out there!” the radio announcer’s voice blares. “It’s official! Josh Taylor is finally going on tour and he’s heading our way. He’s going coast to coast and he’s kicking it off right here in Glen Haven on New Year’s Eve!”

O-M-G, did I hear that right? Is this true? Am I dreaming?

“That’s right, fans, mark that date, because on December 31st Josh Taylor is making our very own Glen Haven, Vermont, the first stop on his cross-country tour!”

Holy crap, I’m not dreaming!

Okay, so right off the bat, I have to explain a few things:

 Number one: I love Josh Taylor. I mean really love him.

 Number two: I just realized that my ultimate dream is about to come true. I’m finally going to see him … Josh Taylor! We’ll be in the same room, well, actually a stadium, but who cares! We’ll be literally breathing the same air!

 Number three: I must get a ticket ASAP!

 Number four: My legs have suddenly turned to Jell-O. I really have to sit down.

“Mom … did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” she asks, whisking away at something in her bowl.

“Josh Taylor! He’s coming to Glen Haven! Can you believe it?”

“No, I can’t believe it.” She throws in some salt.

Unbelievable! I’ve just told her the most exciting news — ever — and she can’t even bother to look up. I mean, we’re talking about Josh Taylor here! It’s obvious that she doesn’t appreciate the extreme importance of this information. I mean, imagine if the person you spent all your time dreaming of was coming to your town. Just think about it!

“Who did you say is coming?” she asks.

“Mom … Josh Taylor!” I tell her again.

“Oh, Josh Taylor.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, Mom, Josh Taylor. He’s only the most talented singer in the entire world!”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, rolling her eyes. “When is he coming?”

“New Year’s Eve!” I shriek.

“So, I’m guessing you’ll want to go to the concert, then?” she says.

“You’re guessing I want to go to the concert?” I look at her in disbelief. “Duh!” Suddenly, I feel the sting of my hand flying against my mouth, clamping it shut before I can blurt out any other choice words.

So, let me explain. In my family, apparently, saying the word duh to someone is as bad as calling them a complete idiot, even though in my opinion, it’s not even close. I found this out last week when I used the word duh a few too many times, and my mother, who takes things way too seriously, informed me that if that word passes my lips one more time there will be consequences.

“Well then, Hannah, I guess you’ll have to start saving your money.”

What? Excuse me?

She’s showing no expression so I can’t figure out if she’s actually serious. So, I stare at her, waiting for her to crack. She’s really not bad-looking as far as moms go. I imagine this is what I am going to look like when I get to be her age because when you look at pictures of my mom at thirteen, she looks exactly like me — average height, average weight, high cheekbones, dark brown eyes, and long dark-brown hair.

After a minute or so of staring at her, I come to the obvious conclusion that there is no way she can be serious. Of course she’s not. She didn’t like the “duh” comment and now she’s trying to scare me. What a relief. I guess I’d better play along.

“I know, I know, I know.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I shouldn’t have said that word, you know … the d-word.” I hop up on the counter beside where she’s working. “I’m really, really sorry and I guess I’ll have to accept the consequences …” I let my head fall to my chest, adding another heavy sigh for effect. I love reverse psychology! It always, always works! But something’s not right. She isn’t saying anything and now she’s frowning.

“Mom, you can’t really be serious?” I say in utter disbelief. “Save my money? What money?”

“The money you will need to buy your ticket, Hannah. Concerts are expensive, and we’ve been spending a lot on you lately.”

What? This is crazy! This cannot be happening.

“Mom! I’m sorry I called you an idiot!”

“What?”

“I mean I’m sorry I said duh. I promise I’ll never, ever say it again … ever!”

So, in case you haven’t noticed, I am really starting to panic now. She is definitely serious!

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Hannah, stop being so dramatic. It’s not about that.”

“Then what’s this about?” I cry.

“Just like I said, we’ve been spending a lot on you lately. You really need to learn the value of money. It doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

I feel like saying, Duh, what do you think, I’m a moron? Obviously, I know money doesn’t grow on trees! Still, how can she expect me to come up with enough money to buy my own ticket? They’re expensive, you know, and I’m only thirteen, technically still a child. I mean really, what does she expect? I don’t understand where this is coming from.

For the record, they haven’t been spending that much money on me, and most of the stuff they bought me, I really needed. Like my new skateboard, they only bought it for me because my old one broke, and the helmet came with it, so it was free. And, now that I think about it, the skateboard should actually fall under the category of “sporting equipment,” which has to do with exercise, which everyone knows is an important factor in leading an active and healthy lifestyle. They also bought me some Chuck Taylors, but only because my feet are growing and I needed sneakers. And really, how can I help it that I’m growing? I can’t just look down at my feet and yell, “Stop it!” Kids grow … parents just have to deal!

Maybe she’s talking about the books from Amazon. Well if she is, I don’t think that’s fair. Books are educational, and in my opinion, anything educational shouldn’t count, should it? Even if one of them is called A Teenager’s Guide to Perfect Make-Up, it’s still a book. Right? Right! Scratch the books; they totally don’t count!

So that’s it really … I can’t think of another thing. Well, unless she’s counting the four movies I went to this month. That’s only one per week, and really, I’m thinking about studying acting when I go to university someday, so I should probably go to as many movies as I can, you know, for educational purposes.

Hmmm … she wouldn’t be talking about my new iPod, would she? She totally shouldn’t be. I mean, it was a back-to-school present and it was on sale! Maybe Dad told her about the new Josh Taylor album. He gave me his credit card number last week so I could download it off iTunes. Naw, I don’t think she knows; she would have said something.

Right, so if I don’t count:

 the skateboard

 the helmet

 the Chuck Taylors

 the books

 the movies

 the iPod

 and the Josh Taylor album …

Who am I kidding? I know my mom, and she’s totally counting all of it, all the stuff she knows about anyway. Crap!

“So, you’re totally serious then?” I ask hopelessly.

“I am.”

“So, can I ask Nan and Pops?”

“Seriously, Hannah! This is not up for debate or discussion. Begging won’t help and you are not allowed to pull the ‘poor old me’ act with your grandparents.”

“I think I need a plan,” I mumble.

Mom nods. “I think you do.”