Unexpected Consequences

12. Red Soldier Deals With His Annoying Cousin, and Other Adventures

THERE WAS A knock, and the tune of Delilah faded away as I pushed my headphones off my ears. "Come in."

Mom opened the door only wide enough to peek her head inside. "What are you doing?"

I looked to my desk, which was piled with papers and one textbook that sat precariously on the edge. An open study guide for the Academic Bowl's history section was draped over the back of my chair, about to fall off. My workspace was never organized. "Homework."

"I'm going out to the Edgars' for another family party," she said, sounding only mildly enthusiastic. "I'll be back by midnight."

"Can I come?"

Mom nearly dropped her purse in surprise. "What? Really? Why?"

I laughed at her reaction; the confusion was understandable: last time at the Edgar house hadn't gone so well. It was the night Dana and I made our still-active peace truce, but it was also the night she'd almost figured out what I was. And now that she was suspicious, I was sure she'd be running through her memory of that night, wondering if the reason I acted weird then was the same reason I was acting weird now. So, if I could spend a few hours with her and prove I was normal, maybe that would nudge her back into being indifferent toward me.

But that long-winded explanation would only make sense in my head, not out loud, so I slammed my textbook closed and simply shrugged. "I'm just bored."

☆

I could see the question written all over Mom's face during the drive there: when did hanging out with Dana become preferable to being bored? It was good that she didn't ask me out loud—I didn't really have an answer to give her.

When we got to the house, the annoying feeling of regret settled in. My brilliant idea suddenly didn't seem so brilliant anymore. Ben was here last time, a happy median between me and the bear-bee who helped keep the peace and covered for me when I snuck out. Now I felt like I was walking into the line of fire alone.

We were the last guests to arrive, but that didn't stop anyone from roping us in as if we'd been there the whole time. I ended up sitting next to Uncle Frank, Mom's twin. Spending the evening talking to him was so much more appealing than hanging with Dana, like Mrs. Edgar suggested, but I had to, for the sake of my secret. I reluctantly pulled myself away from my uncle and headed up the stairs, making my footsteps loud enough so she could hear me coming, as if giving her a few seconds to prepare to see me would make her less insufferable.

I hesitated before knocking. Just because her mom said so didn't mean she would let me in. My brilliant idea was now flat-out stupid, but I knocked anyway, hopeful. "It's Peter."

There was a comically loud groan and the scraping of a chair being pushed back, and Dana swung the door open. "Get in loser."

She released the door, and I slipped in just before it slammed shut. Her room looked almost exactly the same; the only difference was the X-Files poster tacked on the wall next to her window. Huh. I loved the X-Files, too, and I almost commented on it before remembering that us having anything in common would disgust her and would inevitably disgust me, too.

Dana swiveled in her desk chair, chewing on the tip of her pen and eyeing me like a supervillain surveying their catch. "Be thankful," she said with a twist of a smile. "I could've let you suffer down there."

She must've been oblivious to the fact that I would one-hundred percent rather be with Uncle Frank and Grandma Immie than with her, but I muttered, "Thanks."

"Sit down and shut up."

How gracious. I sunk against the wall until I was sitting on the floor in the same spot as last time, hoping it would normalize things somehow. All that was left to do was to act natural and convince her that there was nothing off about me, and that shouldn't be too hard. Why would anyone with something to hide willingly go to the person who suspected them? Hopefully, that was what she was thinking.