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Authors: Janette Rallison
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free to ask me. I’m available.” The way she said it made it clear she was available for more than questions.
I didn’t hear more of their conversation because Elise came up behind me. She whispered, “Great. The cheerleader is hitting on my brother. I will totally gag if she starts showing up at my house.”
“Make sure she sits in Goliath’s chair,” I said.
“It will be her seat of honor.”
We took our chairs over to the far side of the room and stacked them against the wall. “I bet she starts being nice to me now,” Elise said. “Girls always do once they like Josh.”
“Tell Samantha he likes dingy, helpless girls who snort when they laugh.”
Elise raised an eyebrow at me. “You have an evil streak, Cassidy. I like it.” I snuck a glance at Josh. He was smiling at something Samantha had said. “Do you think he likes her?”
“No. Josh thinks he’s too mature for anyone my age.”
“Oh.” It shouldn’t have stung, but did anyway. Josh thought I was immature. “How lovely for us.” A little while later my mother stopped by to give me a ride home. She asked if Elise needed a ride home too, but Josh had brought his car so Elise declined the offer. Mom spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries with Elise, asking her how she liked her classes and that sort of thing.
Mom was all smiles, but I could tell she was watching Elise closely, evaluating her, probably waiting for her to do something psychotic.
Elise didn’t, of course.
On the ride home I told my mom, “Elise is really funny and she’s nice too. All of the stuff before—I think that was just her having a hard time moving to a new place.”
“Why was her brother there?” Mom asked. “I don’t think Rachel will be happy when she finds out you had guys over.”
“It was just one guy, and he was only there because Elise’s little sisters wanted to come. I thought it was nice of him to stay and play games with the kids.”
“Hmm,” Mom said, unconvinced.
Really, my mother was way too suspicious. What sort of ill icit thing did she think was happening with fourteen little kids running around the room?
The next morning at breakfast, my mother mentioned to my father that she had met Elise’s parents. Mr. Benson had dropped his wife off at the caterer’s, gone to their store, and then picked her back up again when the women finished making cookies.
“The Bensons are that boy’s parents . . . Josh, right?”
“They’re Elise’s parents,” I said.
Dad grunted unhappily about this. “We should get to know them better.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“We’re friendly people,” Dad said. “We like to meet our neighbors.” He turned to my mom. “So what did you think of them?”
“They weren’t what I was expecting—you know, after all the things I’ve heard about Elise.” She shook some salt onto her eggs. “They were friendly, intelligent, caring, well-mannered . . . If they’d been stunningly good-looking, they could have been us.” Dad considered this for a moment. “Well, I guess teenagers rebel even in the best of families.” Then in unison their gazes both fixed on me.
I nearly choked on my scrambled eggs. “What?” I asked.
“Don’t ever do that to us,” Mom said.
Dad nodded.
“You don’t need to worry,” I said, sipping my orange juice. “I don’t plan on vandalizing my school.” Mom picked up her toast but didn’t take a bite. “The drinking is what I worry about. Girls get taken advantage of when they’re drunk. If anyone even offers you alcohol, just walk away. Don’t even discuss it.”
“I will,” I assured her firmly. But it didn’t matter what I said. I suppose the years of parenting had predisposed them to lecturing, and they couldn’t help themselves. For the rest of breakfast, I got the full discourse on the traps and pitfalls of teenage life.
Chapter 7
On Friday, Elise stayed after school and went to chess club with me. Throughout the day, she had insisted
I didn’t hear more of their conversation because Elise came up behind me. She whispered, “Great. The cheerleader is hitting on my brother. I will totally gag if she starts showing up at my house.”
“Make sure she sits in Goliath’s chair,” I said.
“It will be her seat of honor.”
We took our chairs over to the far side of the room and stacked them against the wall. “I bet she starts being nice to me now,” Elise said. “Girls always do once they like Josh.”
“Tell Samantha he likes dingy, helpless girls who snort when they laugh.”
Elise raised an eyebrow at me. “You have an evil streak, Cassidy. I like it.” I snuck a glance at Josh. He was smiling at something Samantha had said. “Do you think he likes her?”
“No. Josh thinks he’s too mature for anyone my age.”
“Oh.” It shouldn’t have stung, but did anyway. Josh thought I was immature. “How lovely for us.” A little while later my mother stopped by to give me a ride home. She asked if Elise needed a ride home too, but Josh had brought his car so Elise declined the offer. Mom spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries with Elise, asking her how she liked her classes and that sort of thing.
Mom was all smiles, but I could tell she was watching Elise closely, evaluating her, probably waiting for her to do something psychotic.
Elise didn’t, of course.
On the ride home I told my mom, “Elise is really funny and she’s nice too. All of the stuff before—I think that was just her having a hard time moving to a new place.”
“Why was her brother there?” Mom asked. “I don’t think Rachel will be happy when she finds out you had guys over.”
“It was just one guy, and he was only there because Elise’s little sisters wanted to come. I thought it was nice of him to stay and play games with the kids.”
“Hmm,” Mom said, unconvinced.
Really, my mother was way too suspicious. What sort of ill icit thing did she think was happening with fourteen little kids running around the room?
The next morning at breakfast, my mother mentioned to my father that she had met Elise’s parents. Mr. Benson had dropped his wife off at the caterer’s, gone to their store, and then picked her back up again when the women finished making cookies.
“The Bensons are that boy’s parents . . . Josh, right?”
“They’re Elise’s parents,” I said.
Dad grunted unhappily about this. “We should get to know them better.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“We’re friendly people,” Dad said. “We like to meet our neighbors.” He turned to my mom. “So what did you think of them?”
“They weren’t what I was expecting—you know, after all the things I’ve heard about Elise.” She shook some salt onto her eggs. “They were friendly, intelligent, caring, well-mannered . . . If they’d been stunningly good-looking, they could have been us.” Dad considered this for a moment. “Well, I guess teenagers rebel even in the best of families.” Then in unison their gazes both fixed on me.
I nearly choked on my scrambled eggs. “What?” I asked.
“Don’t ever do that to us,” Mom said.
Dad nodded.
“You don’t need to worry,” I said, sipping my orange juice. “I don’t plan on vandalizing my school.” Mom picked up her toast but didn’t take a bite. “The drinking is what I worry about. Girls get taken advantage of when they’re drunk. If anyone even offers you alcohol, just walk away. Don’t even discuss it.”
“I will,” I assured her firmly. But it didn’t matter what I said. I suppose the years of parenting had predisposed them to lecturing, and they couldn’t help themselves. For the rest of breakfast, I got the full discourse on the traps and pitfalls of teenage life.
Chapter 7
On Friday, Elise stayed after school and went to chess club with me. Throughout the day, she had insisted
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