Restart - An Original Novella

Chapter III {Ready For The Weekend} Part 4

Monday, March 28th

After the madness of packing comes the rechecking, a procedure chock-full of miscellaneous articles, interruptions, and to keep it short, a funfest of love and joy. This is such a rigorous routine, my mother has switched to English to carry it out quicker.

"Clothes?"

"Check."

"Pajamas?"

"Check."

"Underwear?"

"Yep."

"Sunglasses?"

"I still don't understand why—"

"Umbrella?"

"It isn't going to—"

"Fancy red coat you only wear on special occasions?"

"I have it, Mom."

"Checkered coat?"

"Check. Ha ha ha. A pun." I always feel the need to point out puns.

"Leather coat?"

"Why can't you do that thing where you just say 'coat' and that counts for all the coats I packed?" I say this in an inquiring tone, hoping she doesn't take it the wrong way.

"I wanted to make sure, honey."

Relief. "I have all my coats, Mom."

Ten minutes later:

"Headbands?"

"MO-om!" This is Maria. "You already said that. We've got everything we need, okay?"

"I'm just making sure," she affirms. That's her answer for everything. She opens her mouth to say something, probably another article of clothing, but then we hear a knock on the door.

"I'LL GET IT!" Maria shouts, and before I can even blink, she's dashing downstairs and opening the door.

Slowly and carefully, I sneak down the stairs after her.

"...of course you can come in."

A pause as she listens to Michael saying something.

"...well, duh, obviously you're here for Steph."

She lowers her voice conspiratorially, even though in honesty it isn't any quieter than before. "So Michael, let's talk — when are you gonna kiss her?"

I freeze in my tracks. Wow, Maria. Laying it thick, as usual.

"Maria..."

"You know you like her. If I were you, I would like her too. She's very pretty, isn't she?"

There's a pause. Oh, my goodness. What is Michael going to say to that? I duck my head so he doesn't see me eavesdropping, cover my mouth with my hand to silence myself, and press my head to my knees, listening in. I desperately wish I could see his face.

"Admit it."

"Well..."

"I knew it!"

What?!

"Don't shout so loud!"

"Pfft, it's so obvious, dude."

"I'm doing that bad of a job hiding it?"

Maria snickers. "You're actually doing a very good job. The only reason I know is because I'm a human being with a brain that can process logic. Even though she can't. I swear...but seriously. Think about it. She's cool, nice, smart, and definitely beautiful. There's no reason why you shouldn't like her."

No no no no no. She's not supposed to convince him to like me!

"I do like her, Matchmaker Maria."

"Nice nickname! I should force everyone at school to call me that. A-ny-way, I know you like her. The real question is, do you like-like her?"

I don't want to hear the answer. I quickly and quietly pull myself up the stairs and through the hallway, until I've reached the far wall. Racing to my feet, I call, "Who is it, Maria?"

If I didn't know who it was already, I would have never asked this question, especially with her name in it (you know, like if it was a stranger or an ax murderer).

"Hi, Steph," Michael says, greeting me with a big smile. Forcing a natural one back, I say hi and explain to him why there's such a mess in the house.

"Yeah, we've been getting ready for the—"

"About that!" Michael's voice is excited. "I can come!"

"You can come?" My smile vanishes. "What did you say to them?" I'm afraid he's lied to persuade his parents to let him go.

"Oh, you don't want me to come?"

I rush down the stairs and throw my arms around him. "Youcancomeyoucancomeyoucancomethat'sawesome!"

He grunts as I slam into him. I can practically feel Maria's triumphant smile.

"How did you convince your parents?" I'm so happy.

"I told them it was for Maria. They don't have a problem with Maria, because they think I'm not friends with her—"

"Hi, Michael!" Dad calls from the bedroom. Michael quickly pulls away from me, making my suspicions one step closer to being validated.

When Dad walks out, he's wearing that outfit with the beige dress shirt and tan corduroy pants. I laugh, and Michael looks at me.

"Shhh, Stephanie! Now, Michael, I want your honest opinion. Forget that Stephanie just laughed. Is this outfit okay?"

"Umm," Michael stutters, glancing at me again.

I gesture to Dad and say, "Yeah. How is it?" I can tell he's trying to coax the right answer from me, but I'm not about to give anything away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mom sneakily poke her head out of the guest room door and carefully watch him.

"You want my honest opinion?"

"I did ask you for it, after all."

"Not really."

"YES!" Mom shouts childishly. "I KNEW IT!" She jumps out of the bedroom and smiles at Dad sweetly. "Umm, go change, honey."

The teenagers snicker.

Dad directs a look at Mom and slinks, defeated, back to the bedroom they share.

"Do you want to stay here, Michael?" Mom asks.

"Actually, I have to go. My parents think I'm at the library to check out a book, and I've gotta get there fast."

Mom decides to let that slide, but allows him to leave only after he's gotten a granola bar to eat on the way, "because young boys like you need plenty of food to grow up to be strong men," as she says before he walks out the door. As he waves at me, I think about the conversation Maria planned for me to overhear, and wonder what it means for our relationship.