In Your Dreams (In Your Dreams #1)

Chapter 9

"The Laniers are kind of weird. Just saying."

My announcement prompts Gram, who's wearing a novelty apron with the torso of a woman in a waitress uniform painted on the front, to turn away from the stove, brandishing a wooden spoon. Mom and I sit on either side of the two-person table up against the wall, watching as my grandparents whip up one of their classic meals-vegetable soup and a romaine lettuce salad to start, marinated pork tenderloin and potatoes with red wine gravy for the main course, and a red velvet cake for dessert. After repeatedly offering to help and getting shut down every time, we've opted to watch the culinary magic happen while sneaking cherry tomatoes from the salad bowl when Gram and Gramps aren't looking.

"They're weird? Well, now you tell me," Gram sighs, waving the spoon.

"Mom, you're getting soup all over the floor," my mom points out.

Gramps takes the dishrag from the sink and crosses to wipe up the splatter from the linoleum. "So the Laniers are weird, are they?" he asks.

"Well, not weird exactly," I hedge, thinking back two weeks to when I met Kieran's parents for the first time. "They're just very private and kind of...awkward, I guess. It's hard to put my finger on."

"And the girl hates you, right?" Mom weighs in, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure."

Gramps drops the dishrag in the sink and spins around to face us. "Now that can't be true. No one hates my Zipperino."

"Well, it is true," I say to his back as he resumes washing utensils and bowls. "She seems, like, jealous of me for hanging out with her brother, like she wants to keep him all to herself or something."

"Okay-now that's weird," Mom mumbles through a mouthful of tomato.

Gram whirls around to ask, "April, what are you eating?"

"Nothing," she lies after swallowing.

Gram shoots her a look before telling Gramps "Larry, put a few more tomatoes in the salad, would you?" And then to me: "If the Laniers were so weird, they wouldn't have accepted our dinner invitation. They're obviously not strange enough to want to stay locked up in that house by themselves."

"They're probably just a little wary of strangers because of Kieran's condition," Gramps says, scooping a handful of cherry tomatoes from a plastic container and dumping them on the salad.

"Yeah," Mom agrees. "Life's tough when you've got a unique kid. I should know." She sticks out her tongue at me, and I grab a towel from the table and zing it at her.

Gram turns down the burner under the soup pot and smirks at my mother. "I know a little something about raising a unique kid myself," she notes.

Once I'm done giggling at them, I draw my knees up to my chin, the heels of my Chuck Taylor's resting on the edge of the chair. "All kidding aside, though-could everyone please try not to embarrass me tonight?" I beg.

Gramps, back over at the sink, rinses a fork and shuts off the faucet. "So don't act like ourselves, in other words."

"Exactly."

"Seriously, Dad-tonight's important," Mom pipes up, and I'm not entirely sure where she's headed until she completes her thought. "Zip's angling for a Prom date with the young Mr. Lanier."

"Oh, my God, Mom. I am not."

"April," Gram warns, and my mom rolls her eyes before Gram turns to me and asks "When is your Prom, sweetheart?"