The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

       “Monica!” I yelled, slamming the front door behind me.

       “Mom,” I heard her correct sternly. From the volume level of her voice, I guessed she was in the kitchen, or that general region of the house. 

       I climbed up the steps, gliding my hand over the railing as I did so, and crossed the front room, entering the dining room to an atypical sight. My mother was in the midst of setting the table. 

       My mother may have enjoyed cooking, but she wasn’t exactly what one would call “The Biggest Fan” of cleaning or setting the table. Most of the time, we ate on paper plates, using plastic utensils. It was quicker to clean up, though may have been a tad bit worse from an environmental standpoint.

       “Monica,” I began, “what’cha doing?”

       “What does it look like?” she asked, placing a neatly folded napkin down on the table next a real, actual, porcelain plate.

       “Well, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were setting the table; but, considering I’ve known you all of my seventeen years of life, that can’t possibly be it!” I said, observing her unusual actions.

       “We’re having guests over,” she announced, explaining her strange behavior.

       “Oh, who?”

       “Kit, Ashton, and your new best friend, Trevor.”

       I smiled, happy that I’d actually get someone to speak with from the same planet. I had been to dinners before with Kit and her husband, Ashton, but they never brought along Trevor. It was odd, really; in all the years that my mother had worked with Kit, I never once met Trevor. I had known the Lawson Family since about the time I was three or four, when my mom first got the job, and yet I was only now acquainting myself with Trevor.

       I glanced at the dining room table we had yet to use since moving in, and something didn’t click. “Mom, why are there eight places set for five people?” I inquired.

       “Oh, and you know that sweet family two houses over?” she asked. I shook my head, unsure of what direction she was referring. “The Wilson’s; they’re coming over as well.”

       “Huh,” I said, biting on my bottom lip.

       “Is there a problem? I thought you liked their son, Aaron. Or maybe it was Ethan…”

       “Eric,” I said. “His name is Eric.”

       “So, you’re friendly with him; there should be no problem.”

       “Yup,” I sighed, knowing that she would never understand. “Are you going to force me to wear something girly?”

       “Yes,” she said immediately. I sighed, waving to her to go get changed and chill in my room until I was needed to make an appearance.

       “Oh and Liz,” she said, as I approached the entrance of the hallway.

       “What?” I called back.

       “They’re coming at six.” Fuck. It was five thirty. Did she honestly expect me to get changed and mentally prepared in the time span of thirty minutes? Seriously? Who thought like that?

       Normally, getting dressed was easy for me, but with this particular dinner I knew it was going to be a hassle. I not only had to be up to Kit Lawson’s standards, but I also couldn’t wear anything that may give away an insight as to who Kit actually knows me as because of Eric.