I don't own Life with Derek.


"Are you coming to the party tonight?" My 'new best friend' Mercedes asked, struggling to complete her sentence while she chewed. It was late, and we had just left the food market a few blocks down from our house, bags of junk food in our hands. Apparently, she couldn't wait to get home to consume her twinkie.

"At your place?" She asked, a small, girly burp escaping her lips as she finished speaking. She giggled, "You sure you want me there?"

I forced a fake smile. "Yeah! Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"Because five minutes ago you were yelling at me, telling me to act more mature." Mercedes kept her soft grin plastered to her face.

I paused as we walked along the side of the road, cars passing by quickly. "Well, yeah ..." I hesitated, " ... just ... try not to do anything moronic."

"Oh, so now I'm a moron? Because -"

"No, no, no! That's not what I meant! That came out so wrong -"

"Jesus, Casey, chill!" Mercedes held up her hands as a sign for me to stop having my slight panic attack. "It's okay, really. I know what you meant. Act responsible, no burping, no stuffing my face, no jokes, no having fun."

"And no doing anything Derek would do ...." I said, knowing that phrase would basically cover all the rules.

Mercedes laughed, "Don't worry! I'm not exactly into picking up random girls. The dudes are more my type."

"Yeah, me too," I forcefully giggled, not really knowing what else to say. After all, I wasn't hanging out with her by choice. She was hanging out with me.

"So, I'm assuming Derek will be there?" Mercedes asked, her question confusing me.

"Well, yeah, I think so." I paused, trying to remember if today was the day Derek and Sam were going to the concert by the mall. "Why do you ask?"

"Hey, if I'm not allowed to get this party started, someone has too." Mercedes began swifting through the plastic bag she was carrying, pulling out a bag of skittles.

I was starting to get aggravated. "No, no, no. No 'getting this party started'! This is the first party my parents are letting me throw while they're away. I'm not going to let Derek - or you - ruin it!"

"Shesh, Casey, it's called being sarcastic." Mercedes everlasting smile faded. "You met me three days ago. How do you know that I can't behave myself when told?"

Because the manager of the food market told you to 'shut up' several times, and you continued to hop around the ailes like a crying baby? I thought. My reply varied, "Yeah, you're right, I guess. I'm sorry."

Mercedes popped a lime green skittle into her mouth. "It's 'mmkay."

"Well, isn't this your house?" I asked, praying that she said yes.

"No, mine is the next one up." She said, pointing towards the medium sized, brick house a few yards in front of us. The house looked almost exactly like ours, only the door was painted a deep, navy blue. Mercedes took a skip forward like an excited child. She giggled, "Wanna come inside? Get a soda?"

"Uh, no. I ... don't like soda. Besides, I've -"

"You don't have to have soda - we've got water, some of that damnly gross veggie juice, milk -"

"No really, Mercedes," I hurried. "It's fine. I've got a lot of work to do at home, anyway. The party's in three hours and I'm not anywhere near ready," I lied. My house had been set up since this morning.

"Oh, 'kay. That's cool. What time do I need to be over?"

"Around seven ..."

"Okay!" Mercedes began walking up her driveway backwards, still facing Casey. "See you then?"

"Yeah, sure," I said in a fake, happy tone. I let out a loud sigh as soon as she closed her door.


The Score:

Casey: 0 Mercedes: 0