"Bye, Mum!" I called, decked out in a pleated, thigh-length, jean skirt, red sleeveless shirt, platform black shoes, and a small red cape tied around my neck. I was on my way out of the large, old, oak door, barricading me from my precious freedom. My best friend already had her ring-covered, pale hand on the doorknob when the dreaded call came back—my mother.
"Now, wait just a minute," my mum shouted from the antique-looking kitchen. She was wearing a red, striped apron, but that façade could never fool someone as intelligent as I. Ok, fine. She had a pager clipped onto her pants suit and a phone in hand. My mum, the working woman—a psychologist, but not the kind that talks to all those psycho patients, but the kind that's pent up, all day long, in a small lab with a bunch of electronic and medical gizmos—she studies artificial intelligence. I guess it's kind of cool, but she has the tendency to work, a lot. And when she's not on the clock, she's at meetings, which is where, it appears, she's going soon.
"Shoot!" I quietly whispered to my friend, who had already retracted her hand in defeat. Thanks.
"Girls?" her voice lifted at the end meaning it was a question, but I could tell from her stance, her hair, her outfit, her eyes—it was anything but a question.
"What?" I called sweetly. I'm not usually a 'suck-up' but I wanted nothing more than to get out of this ancient house and go straight to the movie theater. I, unconsciously, let out a sigh of anticipation and longing.
"Where are you going?"
"Movie," my friend answered before I got the chance to snap back into reality. "C'ya, Mrs. Underhill!"
"Actually..." my mum was wringing her hands together, bloody nervous habit she picked up from working so many 'ours. It's unhealthy.
I could tell my mum wasn't that heartbroken over what she was about to tell us, but I had a feeling I would be heartbroken enough for the three of us. My mum managed to spew all of the bad news, thanks, apologies, orders, emergency phone numbers—everything—out in five seconds. It always takes me a minutes to process what she says, her voice is cool, calm, in control, and I have the tendency to let it whiz by me when she's on one of her long winded speeches; who am I kidding? I let everything she says whiz by me, even when it's just a sentence or two, but that's besides the point.
Beth, however, seemed to absorb it all pretty quickly. Of course, maybe that's just because she's around my mum almost as much—just as much, if not more—than me. Beth and I have been friends for a while, and that's an understatement. It's a rare moment when she and I aren't side-by-side. How else could I have survived living in this rickety old house, a mom that works herself to the brink of insanity, and, of course, good ol' Alger.
My mum calls 'im "Al." I call him "Ger" for a couple of reasons. 1. He's too immature to be called "Al." Al sounds like the name of a balding plumber, too exhausted to have a mid-life crisis. And, "Ger", sounds like the name of an annoying 7-year-old boy with missing teeth and a knack for causing mayhem. I first started calling him Ger when he was 2 years old. He stole my colored pencils and decided they would better serve as an appetizer before an entrée of my headphones, then as a way to express oneself creatively. I saw all this and let out a yell that sounded like "GRRRRRRR" and since that is kind of like the second part of his name, "Ger" was born.
"Muuu—uuuummmmm!" I whined once I had regained my poise. "Do we have to?"
"Yes."
"But I wanted to go see the movie!" I stomped my foot.
"I'm sorry, dear. You'll have to go see the movie another time."
"But, Mrs. Underhill," Beth interjected, "this movie can't wait."
"I know it may seem that way now, but you'll have fun tonight, too. I rented a few movies for you girls..."
There she goes again. She always does something nice, just when you're about to kill her. I don't get it, but it always seems to work. Fine, I'll stay. Besides, she does look desperate and tired. I don't want to miss the movie, though! It's the chance of a lifetime: The Justice League: Marvel and D.C. Hugh Jackman, Tom Welling, Micheal Rosenbaum, Toby Maguire, Jack Gyllenhaal ... They pretty much recruited every gorgeous guy and gave him a superhero to play, and they got a bunch of handsome villains: Johnny Depp, Viggo Mortenson...the list goes on.
"...so will you stay?"
"Huh?" I was in my 'own little world' as my mum likes to call it, a world of comic books.
"I asked you and Beth to stay while I go to the meeting."
"Oh."
"When will you be back?" asked Beth. She playing with the "Green Lantern" Ring she was wearing.
"Tomorrow morning."
"Wait!" I bursted, tomorrow? "Wait, what'd'ya mean 'tomorrow'?"
"I'm not going to be free until about 3 am, so I don't want to drive home. Look, it's not that big of a deal. You and Beth can stay here and take care of Al. You can order pizza or watch movies—"
"THAT'S WHAT WE WERE PLANNING ON!" I screamed. Whoops, I didn't really mean to say that out loud.
"I know, I know." 'I know', her favorite phrase of all times, I think it has something to do with her zodiac sign: Aquarius. Aquarians apparently say 'I know' a lot.
"Don't worry, we'll stay," Beth comforted her. She should be comforting me. I'm missing my chance to see the midnight showing of a comic book movie. Actually, it's beyond a comic book movie, it's a melting pot of D.C. and Marvel. This doesn't come around everyday.
"Fine." I said, hugging my mum 'farewell.' "Bye!"
"Don't get into any trouble, and take care of Al!"
