Page 5 of About Time

Martin’s mouth falls open, and he turns to Elisa with a horrified expression. “Did you ask if Mandy’s parents are home?”

Elisa rolls her eyes. “Nah, I gave her a box of condoms, some wine coolers, and told them to live it up.”

Hattie groans. “You’re all weird. Yes, her mom will be home. No, I’m not having sex with Donovan. We’re still just friends. Can I go now, or do you want to say or do anything else I will share with my future therapist?”

Elisa waves her off. “Go before they come up with any more problems to delay you.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she says and walks off before Martin or I come up with anything else.

As far as I see it, having kids is entirely too stressful. I’m definitely not doing it.

Chapter Three

Hattie Past- Age 16

Donovan Miller has beenone of my best friends since I moved in with my sister in sixth grade. He’s absolutely gorgeous with his dark golden hair and deep blue eyes, and yet I’ve never been attracted to him. We went from strangers to pseudo siblings in minutes after meeting. I love the hell out of the guy, just not like that. He never, to my knowledge, had a crush on me either.

We both have other friends. Him more than me since he is on the varsity baseball team, and makes friends wherever he goes. I have been more of a loner since my mom passed away from cancer when I was twelve. She was the one that I went to tell all of my news to and for a long time afterward I didn't want to do anything worthy of telling someone since she wasn't there to listen.

That worked for a little while, but eventually, Donovan insisted I rejoin the land of the living. He said, “It's okay to be sad when you have something you want her to know, but you can't put your life on pause since she's not here anymore. I know it's not the same thing, but when my grandpa passed, I really missed him a lot. He was the person I knew I could always turnto, and sometimes I go to the cemetery so I can still tell him what's going on in my life. Maybe you can still tell your mom, you just have to have faith that she's listening.”

I grew up in Harriston, and of course, we knew each other, but we weren't friends until that day. I guess you could say we bonded over grief. To this day, a lot of people do not understand why we are so close. I know people think we're together, or that one of us is secretly interested in the other, but it's just not that interesting. I'm not hiding a deep burning love for him, he's not pining away hoping I'll fall in love with him too. He just gets me and I get him and together everything is a little bit easier. Isn't that what a friend is supposed to do?

Well, I'll tell you what else my good buddy does. He forces me out of my comfort zone. No sooner than I get in the car, Mandy turns around from the front to look at me and gleefully announces, “Donovan is taking us to a football party.”

Since baseball is in the spring, Donovan is able to also play football. He's good at both, enough to be popular in high school, and maybe get a partial scholarship, but unless he is a late bloomer, he knows that his athletic career ends with graduation. He's fine with it because he dreams of opening his own bar. I'm not sure why that's what he's chosen, but he just always liked the idea of making money and hanging out at the same time.

“I don't want to go to a party,” I grumble.

“Shocker,” Donovan says. Eventually, he looks up in the rearview mirror and gives me his puppy dog face.

“That doesn't work on me,” I tell him.

He blinks and pouts a little more. “Please, Hattie. I need my wingwoman.”

“Ha,” I laugh out loud. “Right, that's why I need to go. Because the second we walk in the door, there's not a chance that most of the girls in there are going to throw themselves at you.We all know that the boys on the sports ball teams never get the girl.”

“Okay, smart ass. You're not there to help me get the girl, you're coming to help me get rid of the wrong ones. And stop saying sports ball. You're a bigger sports fanatic than I am.”

“Why can't I be your wingwoman?” Mandy complains.

“Because no one in their right mind would believe that you and I would spend our time kissing when we're more likely to kill each other,” Donovan replies.

“Solid point,” Mandy agrees.

The two of them act like they hate each other, and they do get on each other's nerves a little bit, but deep down I believe they care about each other. Very deep, like basically the human equivalent of the Mariana Trench, but it's there, kind of. Okay, so maybe they just both care about me.

“I’m not dressed for a party,” I highly doubt this argument will work on Donovan, but it might on Mandy.

“You’re always hot, Hattie,” Donovan replies.

“I still don’t understand the two of you. He says shit like that all the time, and yet you don’t ever get together. I know you think he’s attractive,” she says with her finger pointed accusingly at me.

I shrug. “I have eyeballs. Just because I find him attractive, from a purely objective position doesn’t mean that I am attracted to him.”

“What she said,” Donovan agrees.

I look down at my outfit. It’s not that special. A dark olive green pair of shorts, a black tank top, and a pair of Teva sandals. My blonde hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, and I’m wearing tinted sunscreen instead of makeup displaying my light smattering of freckles. My chapstick has a very slight berry tint, and I’m only wearing mascara. The other girls there will be made up more like Mandy in tiny sundresses that have been vacuumsealed to their skin, heeled sandals, and a full face of makeup. Of course, her hair is blown out into carefully styled waves.

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