One Monday morning there were reports of ice on the roads. When my mom heard about it, she insisted on driving me to school. It was under the disguise of being concerned, but I don’t see how wrecking in a car would be any better than falling off a bicycle. I was suspicious, but the drive to school would be only a few minutes. What would be the chances of her being able to get out a full-length rebuke? I put on my headphones for the universal “Don’t talk to me” sign.
“Danielle, can you take those off for a second? I want to say something.” Apparently she was going to try anyway. Come on, we were barely even out of the driveway.
I can’t do this right now. My eyes flickered over to the door handle. What had physics taught me about moving cars and objects flinging out of them…?
“Your father and I were thinking…”
No, no. No sentence ends well when it starts with “Your father and I,” especially if it also contains the word “thinking.” I shifted, trying not to show the enemy any weakness.
“I know we haven’t really done this kind of thing before, but we were wondering if you would like to have someone over.” She rushed to continue, “I mean, not a lot of people, but maybe we could handle one? You know, if kids still do sleepovers?”
That was quite possibly the last thing I expected (right after “we want to give you a car because we value your freedom”). I turned. Her eyes were fixed forward and her lips were tight. She looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
She was probably just trying to check up on my friends. I didn’t have a desire to hang out with any classmates, outside of a game of basketball. There was Allison—no. Moving along. And, of course, Emelia. If they were convinced I was being influenced by rebellious misfits, she would be a shock for them.
We arrived at school and I told her would think about it. When I opened the door, I made sure to give her dubious glances, just to let her know I was onto her.
The conversation with Emelia went like this:
“Stay over? At your house? …Oh! Do you need help with yard work or something?” She asked.
“What? No.” How exactly does her brain work? “I mean as—” Friends? Did she consider us friends? “—To chill. Haven’t you ever had a friend over to hang out?”
No wonder Allison made a pastime out of getting Emelia to react. In the few minutes since the conversation started, her expression went from confused to embarrassed (offended?) to hopeful and then nervous when she answered, “Y—yes. Twice.” She finally settled into a guilty look. Just what are the thoughts flying through her head?
#
She agreed to come over Thursday. Allison didn’t accost me outside of class. I was relieved until I saw her talking with Emelia outside.
“Dani! You can’t steal Em!” She whined when I approached. “Can’t I come too?”
“Sure. You tell your aunt you’re coming to my house. I’m curious to see if her weapon of choice will be a knife or if she prefers the thrill of blunt force trauma.”
“I don’t have to tell her, obviously.”
“Wait, why would she not like you?” Emelia asked.
“Long story.” That I don’t care to get into. “They said I could only have one person over.”
Allison closed her eyes and set a hand over her heart. “I feel betrayed, Em. I thought we were friends.”
Emelia winced, but that was all. She’s getting used to Allison’s teasing. That’s good.
“Fine. Stay strong, Em. Don’t let her take your soul. Stay a sweet guardian.”
Emelia laughed and wished her well as Allison got on her bike and left in the opposite direction of our neighborhood. “I thought you normally take her home?”
“I prefer to think of it as we happen to go in the same direction at the same time,” I explained. “The last few days, she’s left me alone. She probably moved onto the next thing to cure her boredom.”
We hopped on our bikes and headed down the hill. I took the long way around the block, hoping she wouldn’t notice my winding turns. Anything to delay.
When I took the plunge and turned down my street, I pointed to my house. “This is it.”
“It looks nice.”
My house wasn’t excessive, but—nice would be a good word. My parents were prominent in the community, but only as far as this town stretched.
She paused as I leaned my bike against the garage door. “Are you sure this is okay with your family?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Jay wants to see you again. And anyone who helps my grades is bound to be a hit with them.”
She let out a breath. I guess I spent too much time trying to get her to sympathize with me about my parents. She probably didn’t know what to expect. Well, I didn’t know what to expect, either.
I opened the door and motioned for her. After the door clicked shut, I heard my mom call from the kitchen, “Danielle, is that you?”
Might as well get over with the awkward introductions. I stood in the doorway and cleared my throat. She turned with feigned surprise. “Oh, you must be one of Danielle’s friends.” In her next pause, I could see her cold, evaluating stare. I wonder if Emelia caught it as well because I could practically feel her squirm by my side. My mom replaced the look with a smile and held out her hand. “I’m her mother.”
Emelia took her hand with a smile. “Emelia Andel. Very pleased to meet you.”
Oh, could you be more like a princess from a far land? If she had a dress, I’m sure she would have curtsied. It was too bright and shiny for a cave-dweller like me to be exposed to.
I looked at the pots and pans on the stove and then back to Mom. Was she actually wearing an apron? “Are you—making supper?”
“Yes, it’s already four. Your father will be home soon,” she said as if this was normal. Right, and I will just ignore the instant-meal boxes in the trash. “Food will be ready in about a half an hour.”
“Okay…” I made a show of backing out of the kitchen, eyes locked with my mom, watching her struggle between glaring at me and maintaining her strained smile.
I bumped into Jay on my way out, who pointed and shouted, “Emelia! I challenge you to a grand-pre! Loser gives up dessert!”
I shouldn’t have told my younger brother about our dessert duels.
My mom turned. “You two have met before?”
“Yeah! We were all—”
I widened my eyes to get Jay to stop.
He paused before finishing, “—Playing after school one day. Come on, Emelia. If you think Dani is tough, you’re not ready for me!”
Jay motioned for her to follow him into the living room. While I watched him explain how to use weapons in the game he chose, I thought about what it would be like if she was in our family. If her mother never came back, maybe she could live here. She was easy to get along with—for the most part. It would make living here more bearable. I could teach her everything I know about being rebellious (because she would need that here). Is she younger than me? I didn’t even know her birthday.
In an hour, dad came home and we were called to eat. (But not before I won a couple awesome rounds, just for the record.) Jay sat in the middle of one side of the table and demanded Emelia sit by him so he could continue to tell her about an awesome base he was crafting online. I sat next to Jay. At the other end of the table, my dad cleared his throat and looked down at me. Oh, right, the polite thing to do. When it came to conversation and small talk, my dad was quiet, but we knew better than to test him.
I gestured. “Uh, okay, friend from school, Emelia, my dad.”
Dad nodded and she returned the greeting, her constant evaluation of the situation easy to read in every movement.
The three of them took turns asking her questions about school and hobbies while I watched. By the time the parents took over the conversation and steered it to the state of academia, I was tuned out. Emelia nodded along while they vented their frustration.
“Hey, aren’t you going to rescue her?” Jay whispered to me.
I looked up and over. “What? She seems fine.” At least she has someone more intelligent to talk to now.
“She looks jittery.”
Oh, you must be new. “She’s like that with everyone.”
“Not when she talks to you.”
What? She isn’t? Was she starting to become more comfortable around me (and Allison?)
“Don’t whisper at the table—Jayson, Danielle,” Mom said, interested in us now that we were violating her rules.
“Sorry, but Dani didn’t believe me that I have a volcano fountain in my base and now I have to prove her wrong. Can we be dismissed?”
She waved us off and, in our abrupt escape, almost tipped our chairs over. Emelia stopped and faced my parents. “Thank you so much for dinner.’
“Oh, it wasn’t anything special, but you’re welcome,” Mom said with a sweetness that was out of place on her face.
“No, it was very good.” She turned to my dad. “Thank you for letting me come over. It was nice to meet you.”
So polite it hurts! If it had been anyone else, I would have thought that she was trying too hard, but it was difficult to imagine Emelia as anything other than genuine. Even my parents, who are naturally suspicious of people, were won over.
“No problem, anytime,” Dad said. Yea, maybe next time you can discuss economics. I’m sure it would be great to have someone smarter than your delinquent daughter around here.
No, I decided. Emelia would not last in this household. Even though it would save me long trips in the cold, for some reason, her becoming like a sister would be strange. She was different from family or even familiarity of Allison—similar to a mystery you puzzle over until you find the answer—but I wasn’t receiving any clues.
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