Where does Mom keep that plastic wrap stuff?
After looking through almost every darn drawer we have, I finally find it. And even though the recipe says to let the bread “cool completely,” I don’t feel like waiting that long. Plus, I need to get this thing over to the neighbors’ house before Mom and Dad come home.
Wrapping hot bread in extremely clingy plastic wrap is no easy task though.
By the time I’m done wrapping it, the box of plastic wrap is almost empty, and my horrible bread looks like some kind of mummy. See? This, is just another reason why I don’t like being in the kitchen. I’m bad at it all the way around.
Should I tell Hailee that I’m going next door? Nah, she’ll just be really annoying about it and ask a bunch of questions. All I need to do is go over there really quick, hope that he isn’t home, give his parents (or whoever else lives in that house) the new bread, invite them to dinner, and then finally come back here before Hailee or Kyle know that I even left.
It’s a completely foolproof plan.
So, I leave the house and fast-walk next door. Then I ring their doorbell while silently hoping that he’s not here.
Please be one of his parents. Please be one of his parents. Please be one of his—
The door opens, and I feel my heart sink at the sight of him.
Seriously? All that hoping and mental begging for nothing?
“I guess you just couldn’t stay away,” he says, cocking an eyebrow at me, “ay, Feisty?”
I grit my teeth as I try to convince myself that I cannot rip his head off. And that I cannot throw this bread down like I did with the other one.
Keeping both of those things in mind, I force a tight smile. “I brought this bread to replace—”
“The one you ruined,” he finishes, eyeing the bread with a smirk. “Where ya shipping it to? Russia?”
I. Will. Not. Lose. It.
“Can I speak to an adult?” I ask, using my calmest voice.
“What?” he drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t like talking to me?”
“No,” I reply without hesitation, “frankly I don’t. Here’s your bread.” I shove it at him, making sure that I’m wearing another fake smile on my face. “And my mom would like you and your family to come over for dinner tonight around six o’clock. We’ll be having spaghetti, please let your parents know.”
Yeah, I can be polite…semi-polite.
I don’t wait for a smart remark, or any other form of a reply, and I leave him standing in the doorway. Maybe I’ll get lucky and they won’t show up because they hate spaghetti.
“Hey, Feisty!” I hear him call after me. “Just so you know, you’re either graying early or you have a butt-load of flour in your hair!”
They better hate spaghetti.
Chapter 4: I Want You To Go Away
As I reluctantly get ready for the “dinner,” Hailee bursts into my bedroom with a glare on her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that he’s coming for dinner!”
“I can’t believe you don’t know how to knock,” I shoot back as I set my hairbrush aside. “So what if I didn’t tell you? Get over it.”
I mean, technically there’s still a chance that they won’t even come…
Her nose flares. “You’re the worst sister ever!” She then storms out of my room, slamming the door behind her.
Great talk.
Does she really think there’s a chance for her and him? Is she that delusional?
“Everyone, come downstairs please!” I hear Mom yell. “They should be here soon!”
Or they won’t be.
Still, I drag myself downstairs and then roll my eyes when Hailee sticks her tongue out at me. So mature.
“Okay,” Mom says, clapping her hands together, “best behavior…and look occupied for goodness sakes! Don’t just stand here!” She heaves a loud sigh. “Randall! Hurry up, please!”
Dad emerges from his study, calm and collected as always. “Audrey, try to relax. I know you’re worried about first impressions, but—”
The doorbell rings, and Mom practically shrieks. “They’re here! Okay, remember what I said!”
My luck absolutely sucks.
While she turns to open the door, Kyle is playing with his stuffed dog (whose name is Hammy for some stupid reason), Hailee is on her phone (shocker), Dad is—well, he’s just being Dad, and I am dreading every second of this.
“Hello!” Mom greets them after throwing the front door open. “I’m Audrey Taylor, and as president of the neighborhood committee, I just want to say welcome on the behalf of our cozy little community! We are just thrilled to have you as our next-door neighbors!”
Way to lay it on thick, Mom.
“Oh, well, thank you so much!” the light-haired woman responds with a smile. “I’m Dawn Knight, and this is my husband Victor.”
Dawn and Victor Knight? Why does that sound familiar? I know I’ve heard those names before…but where? They’re not exactly common.
“And this is my husband Randall,” Mom says, touching Dad’s arm. “And these are our children: Megan, Hailee, and Kyle.”
Of course, she has to introduce us in birth order.
“Well, come in, come in,” Mom urges them as Kyle fakes being shy and hides behind her leg.
As Dawn and Victor step into the house, I realize something very important: He’s not here. It’s a miracle! Maybe my luck isn’t so bad after all! At the same time though, I can’t help wondering why he’s not here…
“Thank you,” Dawn replies in the same sugary tone, “we wanted to bring something, but weren’t sure what would be best, and then our son suggested that I make cheesecake because he knows it’s
