She Has Red Hair

Old Boyfriends and-Oh No, Mike Ate Sweet Tarts

About two weeks after my shake-up with Principal Richardson, I still hadn't gone to any of the recommended groups we discussed. I also hadn't told the boys what she talked to me about, it wasn't important.

There was one thing that was bothering me though—the number that had called me two weeks before. They'd tried calling after that as well, but I always either ignored it or couldn't pick up at the time. I didn't know why they suddenly wanted to talk, but I still did not want to talk to them.

"Azea! Dinner is ready!" Mom called from downstairs.

"Okay!" I yelled back. I marked my place in the book I was reading and jumped off of my bed. Grabbing my phone and texting the boys, I headed downstairs.

I found my mother putting a hot glass pan on the table in the kitchen and hung back in the doorway so I wouldn't mess her up. She must have sensed my presence because she started to speak. "Did you tell the boys?" She looked at me. I held up my phone to voice my answer.

"Good, I think I made enough food to feed an army." She wiped some sweat off her forehead with her arm. Tonight she made cheese enchiladas that were begging to be eaten. The boys would have a field day.

In the middle of admiring her work, a strange look came over Mom's face and she turned to me. "Do you think it's strange that we haven't met their grandmother yet? They are practically the sons I never had at this point," she said. I smiled at the last part, that was an understatement.

"You didn't meet Emily's parents until halfway through kindergarten and we knew each other since the end of preschool," I decided to point out.

"Yeah, but Emily and the boys. These are two completely different things we're talking about." She frowned slightly.

I shrugged then thought of a response. "First of all, they are people, not things, mom." I stared pointedly at her like she always did to me when I said things that sounded remotely rude. "Second of all, it may be a touchy subject. I mean, they have only mentioned their grandmother, nothing about their parents." My voice dropped lower with every word.

Mom considered my words before nodding and I knew I got her there. "And besides, would you really rush your grandmother to meet people who have lived in their house for a month and still haven't mowed their backyard filled with knee high grass?" I tried to detour from the original question and forget the look that had crossed my mom's face when she brought it up.

When I brought up the grass, she looked away sheepishly. "What if there are snakes?" she asked, openly shuddering at the thought. "Ask one of your newly found sons to do it," I suggested, placing napkins by all of the plates.

"No. That would be asking too much. Last thing I need is for something to happen to them while mowing our lawn."
"I'm serious, Mom. Ask Weston, he has nice abs, he can probably push the lawn mower." I didn't realize exactly what I said until I noticed Mom's amused and confused expression.

"He does now? How would you know that?" She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. I felt my cheeks heat up and I averted my eyes from my mother's gaze. When I looked back she was still standing there with the same expression. I broke down and explained what I saw, truly nothing bad, just embarrassing information to tell your mom.

"Does he know you saw him?" she finally asked after I finished. I shook my head vigorously, fearing that if I spoke, I would reveal something else embarrassing. She nodded her head slowly, a small smile forming on her lips. Uh oh, that could not be good.

"So, if I just happened to mention it at dinner..." she trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blank.

"Mom, no. Please, you're my mother and you love me, you wouldn't embarrass me like that," I begged. Before she could answer verbally, the door opened and the familiar voices of the boys entered. Instead, she shrugged and turned back towards the table.