Dinner

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Dinner

   That evening at dinner, my mother bombarded me with questions about Tyler.

“Where did he move from?” she asked.

“Atlanta” I replied.

“Does he have any siblings? Who are his parents?”

“Not a clue. He didn’t mention any siblings, and I only hung out with him on the boardwalk.”

“How old is he? Is he in your grade” would the woman ever stop?

“He’s sixteen, and he’s going to be a junior.” I replied, swirling my fork around my spaghetti.

“Well, I would like to meet this boy. Have him over for dinner sometime.”

“Mom, it’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything, plus, I’ve only known him a day.”

“I know, but still…” She trailed off.

“Fine, I’ll call him tomorrow, and see if he wants to hang out and ask if he wants to have dinner with us.” I sighed.

 My mother smiled. She always got what she wanted. We sat in silence for the rest of our meal. I got up from the table, put my plate in the sink, and went into my bedroom.

   My room was a bright sunny yellow decorated with white furniture. I lay on my bed and picked up my IPod. Plugging in my earphones, I lost myself in the world of music.

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