Screentimed

I open my phone to snapchat, selecting only a few to open and send back a picture of my breakfast too. Only Dez, Marie, and JJ receive a snap of my soggy cereal. Everyone else is left on sent, only because a pop up comes in, saying “Time Limit” and “You’ve reached your limit on SnapChat.”

Two minutes a day of each snapchat, BeReal, and Instagram. I’m allowed no Youtube or Tiktok. That’s how my dad decided I should live my life. The screen time rules were a result of him watching one too many documentaries about the dangers of social media. Dad says I’m lucky, as Sadie isn’t allowed a phone yet. I don’t see it that way.

Of course, he also has apps set up to see search history, everything I text, everyone I call, and all that jazz. There are precisely thirty seven and a half websites that my phone and the house computer block, but most of those I don’t care about.

To be honest, I’d care a lot more if I was more interesting. If i went to parties and had secrets to keep, or if I had a boyfriend or girlfriend, or if It had a secret to keep, but I don’t. Which makes my dad more suspicious. Which is unfair.

“Dude you can’t text me sh...tuff like this,” I correct myself as a teacher walks by.

“You’re my best friend! I should be able to text you things like that!” Marie says.

Dez comes to her defense, adding, “It’s not her fault she can’t text you stuff like that.”

I grind my teeth slightly, but say, “You know the rules. Dad put keywords into the app, and ‘sleeping over’ is one of them. He got a notification that said ‘Zoey received a text: Hey im sleeping over at Brayden’s tonight ;) ;) ;) wish me luckkkk’ at two in the morning.”

“So?” she asks.

“So I got yelled at for the fourth freaking time this week and if it happens again, I lose my phone for a month and I’m not allowed to text you indefinitely.” I explain.

“Fine, I should’ve known, whatever,” She blows it off. God, Marie could be such an airhead. Dez was just coming to her defense this once; they understood the rules and followed them, and valued our friendship enough to know my dad wasn’t kidding with his threats. JJ was similar, she was more vulgar and dirty minded than the rest of us combined, but she got that my dad didn’t necessarily need to know that.

I really don’t give a singular care what Marie does in her free time, and while I don’t love her attitude about “sleeping over” with lots of different guys, or her ideas of “luck,” the rules have been in place about as long as I’ve known her, since I moved here, so she should get it by now.

The thing is, this sort of happens all the time. And, yeah, that’s just kind of the way Marie is, she’s the one with “conquests” and late-night sobbing facetimes, and crushed velvet corset tops, sneaking stuff into parties with. Dez wasn’t quiet or shy, just more of a watcher. They had always been this way, and they tended to act as an impartial judge. JJ, while not as trigger-happy as Marie, made her way around. You’d spot her with a different girl constantly, but somehow she got along with everyone easily. Me, I’m the product of a control-freak dad, an absent mom, and three moves in six months before settling here a year and a half ago.

At such a big school, It’s hard to pinpoint our “clique,” as we’re not exactly nerds, not really outcasts, but also not popular, and not smokers. We weren’t jocks, though JJ played softball, and not really theater geeks, though Dez was in the drama club. We weren’t mean, though Marie wanted to be, and we weren’t loners, though I sort of look like it. I guess we’re just the et cetera category.