“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Huh?” Puzzled, I looked up from my dinner. “Nothing’s wrong; why d’you ask?”

“Well…” Tilting her head to the side so that her straight black hair fell over her shoulder, Mom pointed at my plate. “Your plate looks like a Camp Chrystal Lake massacre; and the last time I checked it, the name on your birth certificate did not read Jason Voorhees.”

Have I mentioned that my mom was the coolest mom ever?

I haven’t?

Well, she was. Always up to date when it came to movies and games, the only thing I could best her in were novels. And I loved her for listening to every word I said about the stories I liked.

“Well?”

I put the cutlery on the table. She was right, my Spaghetti did look quite slaughtered. “It’s nothing, mom.”

She smiled brightly. “Since when are you lying to me?”

I winced.

The reason for my grumpy mood? Well, the reason might’ve been an obsessive cheerleader who was proving over and over again that she couldn’t take no for an answer. For three days in a row, Holland had been bothering me with her request. It went from her waiting for me at work again, up to the point where she even followed me into the staff room!

Every time, she approached me with the same request. Every time, I refused without thinking twice about it. There was more than one reason why I’d be done for if I faked being friends with Clay just to make him go out with her.

First: I was a nerd; he was an athlete. 

Second: How on earth was I supposed to make friends with the soccer team’s captain if I didn’t even have normal friends at school?

Third: The Thunderbirds would never ever ever allow me to get close to Clay. They’d skin me alive before that happened. 

Sounds logical? Apparently not to Holland.

However, it was her latest attempt at convincing me to agree to her plan that had thrown me off track today. Until then, her behavior had been irritating. Now, it became disrespectful. Right after school, she’d been waiting for me next to the parking lot where she grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving the premises. Never before had Holland approached me this close to her territory. I guessed being seen with a nobody would damage her flawless image. 

Today, it seemed that she no longer cared about that rule.

I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t tried to shake her hand off and ripped my soaking wet hoodie at this exact moment. Maybe it would’ve changed everything, maybe nothing. I would never know. What I am pretty certain of, is that the sound of tearing fabric seems so much louder in my memory than it had probably been back then. Cursing I regarded the hole in my hoodie where the seams that usually connected the sleeve and the shoulder part had given in to Holland’s force. I sighed when seeing that it was the same spot as usual. I had lost count of the times I’d already patched up this hoodie.

Still, it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

Yet, it was this incident that changed the way Holland was looking at me. The hoodie directed her attention to my overall appearance. None of my clothes were new, which was fine with me, but for Holland, it must’ve been a fashion disaster. A disaster she took for her chance.

She offered to pay me if I made friends with Clay.

A whole bunch of money actually.

I still said no.

We didn’t have much, but that didn’t mean that she could buy me.

The longer I kept quiet the deeper the frown on mom’s face got. “If it’s the kids in school again…”

“No, mom!” I protested. “No, that’s not it…”

“Honey, do you seriously think I haven’t seen the bruises? When did that happen?”

I pulled my hoodie’s sleeves lower down my arms, where the three-day-old bruises were far too visible. “It’s nothing…”

“If it’s because of your clothes…” The look on mom’s face was heartbreaking. “I’ll ask if I can do more shifts at North Western …”

I reached for her cold and trembling hand. “Mom, I promise, that’s not the reason. But…if you let me take more shifts at Book Den, I could help with…”

Her reaction was the same as always whenever this topic came up. She shook her head vehemently and stared me down with her deep brown eyes. “No, honey. You need to focus on school!” She squeezed my hand and her gaze turned so tender it made my eyes tear up. “I just wish I could offer you a little more.”

“Mom…”

She blinked her own tears away; I squeezed her hand in return. “Let’s just eat, okay? We’ll talk later.”

I knew we’d never do that - none of us liked that topic too much – but anything was better than seeing that broken look on her face. 

After dinner, I washed our dishes in the sink and put them back into one of the two green cupboards hanging on our tiny kitchen’s wall. While Mom prepared for her nightshift, I began cleaning the apartment. Vacuuming the light brown tiles didn’t take long, so I turned to clean the kitchen’s countertop when hearing Mom’s stressed-out curse. I put the towel and cleaner down before getting her beige summer trench coat. Rushing out of the bedroom she slipped into the coat that I was holding out for her. 

“Thanks, honey.” After giving me a peck on the cheek she was out of the door. “Oh!” She leaned back into the apartment for a second. “Tell your guildmates, I said hi!”

So, I said hi to my guildmates from her.