Page 74 of My Cosplay Escape
“Oh no. Sarah, honey, I am so sorry. I must have forgotten to switch them over last night. Here, let me restart them. Better put it on the sanitize cycle.” Before I can protest, my hoodies are swirling before me while the locked machine flashes that there are four hours and fifteen minutes before the cycle is complete.
“Mom. Are you stressing out about the BBQ? I can cancel it. I can tell Adam it’s off.”
“I’m not sure he’ll believe you since I just sent him an email to confirm.”
I wring out my wet hair in a puddle on the garage floor. “How do you have his email?”
“I asked for it after you went cherry red and ran inside without saying so much as good night last Friday.” She tucks a loose strand of my hair back in place and straightens the collar of my bathrobe before I can swat her away. “Honey, you don’t have many friends, and he seems like such a nice boy. Besides, I already invited Brent and Jen to join us.”
Brent and Jen?! Goldfish, this woman. She’s the one with superpowers. I give up. “Fine. But what am I going to wear?”
Mom bites her cheek. “Isn’t there something hanging in your closet?”
I roll my eyes. “You almost had me believing it was an accident.”
“Believing what was an accident? Those dresses are just as comfortable as your hoodies. Probably more so on a day like today. We’re supposed to hit a record high.”
I grab a short olive jumpsuit instead of a dress, just because I know it will bug her. And while I fully expect Mom to splash certified organic cranberry juice all over my jumpsuit when I get back from class, she doesn’t.
Adam arrives. With flowers. And a pink box. “Everyone likes cake, right?” he says when I open the door.
“I will murder you for this,” I hiss.
“Okay. I’ll know not to bring cake next time.”
“You don’t get it. The last boy who came to a barbecue—”
Mom appears in her cat apron. “Sarah. Don’t keep poor Adam on the front step baking in the sun.” I move out of the way before she bulldozes over me. “Come on in, Adam. Glass of lemonade?”
They exchange flowers for lemonade like it is no big deal. Like they are old friends.
“Brent is in the back. Poor Jen couldn’t make it. She’s got reverse morning sickness. Throwing up on the hour every hour after four p.m. Goodness knows she has reason to after looking into all those wide-open, disgusting little mouths of crooked teeth.”
Adam swallows. His eyes flitter briefly.
“Brent and Jen are undertakers,” I mumble.
Adam spills some of his lemonade. “Cool.”
“Sarah! Take the cake from poor Adam and come help me with this salad.”
“Can I help?” Adam asks.
“With the barbecue out back. Take this to Brent.” Mom is delighted to have another person to boss around. She misses her students over the summer and on weeknights too. My mother is a complete dictator in her classroom. Somehow, her students love her. I get it, kids appreciate a woman who can run a tight ship. The principle translates even to Kids Clubs. But none of my mom’s adoring students have to live with her.
“Wasn’t that nice of Adam to bring a cake?” Mom is glowing as she adds the red onions, squash, and cherry tomatoes to the grill basket.
“You forgot the basil.”
“I did, didn’t I? Go get me some nice sprigs. The greenandsome purple too.”
She planned that.
The purple basil is in the back. Near the barbecue. And because I am a chicken, I start with the green. I hear Adam and my brother talking as I pinch off the spicy sprigs.
“Orthodontists? Both of you?” Adam sounds relieved. I know ribbing is flirting under a different pretext, but I love cracking Adam’s chill. It’s a hill I’d die on. Daily. Hourly.
“So Jen’s ill?” Adam asks.
