Emily laughed. “Are you shocked that a guy would be interested
in Macallan?”
49
“No, not at al .” I actual y found it strange that she never real y talked about guys to me. I figured that was left to her girl friends.
“Yeah, it was sixth grade. But she didn’t real y have any interest in Keith or anything real y after her mom . . .”
Emily’s unfinished sentence hung over us like a dark cloud. I had always avoided the topic of Macal an’s mom. I knew I was supposed to say how sorry I was if it ever came up. But it never came up.
Macal an always talked to me about her dad, her uncle, and school — but she hardly ever talked about her mom.
“I don’t know how she holds up as well as she does.” I was surprised not only that these words came from my mouth, but how
smal my voice sounded.
Emily dropped her head a bit. “It was awful. It was so awful. I wish you could’ve seen Macal an when her mom was around. She was a different person. She was always smiling and laughing. It’s not like she’s all brooding now, but it was . . . a lot.”
I was sure “a lot” was putting it mildly.
“But I have to tell you, she’s gotten much better lately. Like whenever she starts talking about her cooking classes or the new recipes she’s trying out. And also, I don’t know if you realize how much your mom has helped her.”
I nodded. It was pretty clear that Macal an adored my mom. It
made me realize how lucky I was to have her around. To have both my parents around even though I got annoyed with how much
time my dad spent at the hospital.
“Oh!” Emily started bouncing up and down in her seat. “I’ve got it!
I think I should ask Macal an to make some food for the Hal oween party. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“Yeah, she’ll love that.” I started thinking about all the food 50
Macal an’s been making. “Do you think you can ask her to make
those pul ed pork sandwiches?”
“Definitely.” Emily beamed.
We missed the seven o’clock movie and the one after that. Emily and I kept talking and talking. All the nerves we both felt started to melt away.
The only other time I got nervous that evening was when we said good-bye. Because I wanted to kiss her. Not just because she was cute but because, for the first time since I’d arrived, I had something to look forward to that didn’t involve Macal an.
So I kissed her. And she kissed me back.
I wasn’t going to let any other opportunities pass me by.
General y when a guy gets a girlfriend, he usual y ends up spending less time with his guy friends. But with Emily it was the opposite.
Before I knew it, I was starting to hang out with Keith and Troy. We went to the mall to get our costumes for Emily’s Hal oween party.
We ended up grabbing a few slices and talking about sports. I hadn’t had that much bro time since we left California. I even got excited when Keith picked on me for spending so much time with Macal an without making a move. I took it as a compliment that he was ribbing me. It meant I was in.
“Have I told you you’re the greatest boyfriend?” Emily pecked me on the cheek as I put up the last of the fake cobwebs in her living room the night of the party.
“Not today.” I winked at her.
She laughed before surveying the room for one last inspection
before people arrived. We moved the furniture so there was a large area for people to hang out and maybe dance. We had a table set 51
up on the side that had a punch bowl fil ed with “green slime” (which was basical y green-colored punch), and chips, dip, pretzels, candy, and a lot of room left for Macal an’s food.
Macal an, as with everything, outdid herself. There were mini
“mummy” pizzas (where black olives were used as eyes), deviled
eggs that had peppers sticking up like horns so the eggs looked like devils, cupcakes decorated with candy corn. And, of course, her famous-to-me pul ed pork sandwiches.
“This all looks amazing, Macal an!” Emily hugged her.
Our group had decided to dress up with a Grease theme. The girls were going as the Pink Ladies while the guys were T-Birds.
Emily was dressed as Sandy, with a leather jacket and all black with red shoes. Her normal y slick, black hair had been curled and teased beyond recognition. If Emily was Sandy, I guess that made me Danny. The guys had it easy; we only had to get white T-shirts
and write T-Birds on them. Some of us had leather jackets — I’d borrowed my dad’s old motorcycle jacket from when he had a motorcycle; Mom had made him get rid of it once she got pregnant with me. The girls took pink T-shirts and wrote Pink Ladies in bubble letters and then wore poodle skirts with matching pink headbands and flip hairdos.