Laura (7:13am): morning!
Laura (7:23am): what do time do you want to come over?
Laura (7:33am): i was thinking 4pm
Carm (10:08am): works for me
Laura (10:09am): great! hope it doesnt rain...
Carm (10:12am): why?
Laura (10:13am): its a surprise ;)
-
LaFontaine is in the middle of concocting a truly horrible calculus pun to make this sheet of homework a little more tolerable when they hear a knock on the door. They look up from their mess of a desk to see their mother poking her head through their doorway.
"Susan, sweetheart? We've got somebody we'd like you to meet."
We? 'We' is never good. Even when 'we' means their Dad, and especially when it doesn't, 'we' is never good.
Pre-Calculus actually looks like the more desirable option all of a sudden. "Who is it?"
Their mother makes herself comfortable against the doorframe. "Well, I was just having this lovely get together with Lisa-"
"Lisa? You hate Lisa. You talk about her behind her back like, every single day. Without fail."
Their mother gapes at them. "I do not-"
"Or are you forgetting the fact that you're extremely racist?" It's a bit of a low blow, but it's true. Very true, and LaFontaine has been on edge for days, so it's not really their fault if they feel like picking a few fights.
It's better than the alternative.
Their mother sighs. "Oh, honey, that's all behind us now. It was just a silly judgement I made about her family." She puts her hands on her hips when LaFontaine shakes their head. "And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they're...African American." She whispers the last words like they're slurs.
That's not to say that she ever has any trouble using actual slurs.
"It really was, though. I remember what you said-"
"Now, why do you have to make everything so difficult?"
LaFontaine clenches their jaw.
"All I came to tell you was that we were having a lovely little get together and she brought her son by to meet you. I think it would be a good idea."
Uh oh. Yeah, they know what that means. It's written all over their mother's face.
"You know, Mom, I'm actually really busy right now-"
"I don't want to hear it. I want you downstairs right now, young lady."
Their fists clench and press into their knees. After a deep breath, they nod.
She goes downstairs first and LaFontaine follows reluctantly after.
There's a mirror on the wall between the hallway and the staircase, and LaFontaine stops for a moment to address their look. They can't possibly look that attractive to the average teenage boy. Black skinny jeans, a beat up pair of combat boots, and a jean vest over a white t-shirt. Messy, unkempt hair. Not even a trace of make-up. Perry loves this kind of look as much as they do, and that's usually all that matters.
But right now, only one thing really matters: turning off teenage boys.
Luck isn't on their side. The boy is standing in the foyer when they skip the last step on the staircase.
