Part II

Petra said the fatal words: "So, tell me a little about yourself."

Micah's eyes lit up. He smiled, set the diner menu on the table, and leaned back lazily in his seat. And then the lecture began. Occasionally he made gestures to emphasize his point. He had a bit of an accent, but Petra couldn't place it. Given how much he talked, though, she had plenty of time to make guesses.

"A little about myself, eh? Okay, I'll start at the beginning. I was born a couple miles west of here. I was a very cute child; just let me show you some pictures sometime. I moved here on my own and I've been doing splendidly since. I usually don't travel much, except for family reunions every couple of years."

Petra nodded. "That's very interesting. I was raised by my father in a cabin up north, where it's cold all year round. He taught me how to ice fish and—"

"Family can be such a bore sometimes," Micah drawled. "Oh, they talk about the most vapid things imaginable. Grandchildren and graduation parties and all that rot."

"Um, I was talking," Petra said. "Why'd you interrupt?"

"Interrupt? You just interrupted me. Now won't you let me speak?"

"I was the one who—"

"I wish I could have more athletic friends. Most of my friends are nerds who hardly know how to swing a sword. And they get upset when I kill things. Like, just the other day I slayed a cow so we could have some steaks and you would not believe how much they cried. They're such dorks, you know?"

"You shouldn't talk about your friends like that. Don't you like them?"

It was as if Micah didn't even hear her. "But I suppose I can be an example of strength to them. They can learn to be bold from me. Only bold people make it anywhere in the world! Being as good-looking as me doesn't hurt their case, either. I am quite attractive."

"Yes, but—"

"I help them train to fight. They're slow learners, but if I stay determined, maybe I can make it work. I know you like to fight because you tell me so in your letters."

Petra sighed in relief; she'd get to speak! "That's right. When the New Order goes on a mission, fighting the mobs is almost as rewarding as the treasure we find. One of my favorite moves is to attack from above, like jumping out of a tree. I've even come with with a battle cry to startle the mobs before I attack—"

"Yeah, okay, that's nice," Micah said dismissively, unimpressed. "But I can slay five zombies at once with one swing of a sword. I think that's pretty great."

"I invented my own fighting move. I call it the Warrior Whip—"

"Yeah, okay. I bet I can do that one really well. Maybe even better than you, actually."

Petra frowned. "Excuse me?"

Micah ignored her offense. "Anyway, I've killed fifty zombies in one afternoon. Or maybe it was seventy. I don't know. I killed so many I lost count."

"You feel awful good about yourself, don't you?" Petra crossed her arms.

"Who wouldn't? I'm amazing. I just wish people could pay more attention to me. The Order of the Stone isn't so special. I bet I could beat any one of them, multiple Order members even, if you set me up to it. I'd make Olivia or Lukas beg for mercy in seconds!" He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and smiled in the most egomaniacal manner imaginable.

That was the last straw. No-one talked smack about Petra's friends like that and got away with it.

She sprang right out of her chair. Her face flushed red with anger. She slammed one fist on the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle. Then she jabbed a furious finger at Micah.

"You! You are the most arrogant, self-absorbed BLOWHARD it has ever been my agony to know! I don't know why I ever agreed to go on a date with you. You're so selfish it actually hurts!"

"I am not selfish!" Micah jumped out of his seat, too. "You're the selfish one. You won't let me talk. Don't you care about anything I have to say?"

"You've been saying things for the past hour. Enough! I want to talk! Isn't this my date, too?"

"What more is there to talk about with you? You already told me everything in your letters."

"No, I didn't. That's not all of me. I have more to talk about than fighting and stuff. I have my friends, the adventures we go on, other hobbies of mine...Let me tell you about them! And you...no-one talks about my friends like that. No-one!"

Micah didn't like the conversation, because it wasn't focused on him anymore. He tried to silence Petra by going in for a kiss on her cheek. She repelled him with a slap.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, no, you don't. You are not shutting me up with a kiss. Get out of here!"

"Maybe I will!" Micah slammed his hand on the table, then smoldered for a moment before whirling away from the table and heading to the door. "Next time I'll ask out a girl who actually listens to what I have to say."

"Next time I'll date a boy who thinks about people other than himself!" Petra threw a napkin at Micah as he stormed away. "Good riddance!"

The glass door shut with a loud bang. Petra watched Micah leave, then flopped back in her seat and grumbled to herself. Unfortunately, their theatrics had been way too noticeable, and now everyone in the diner was staring at her. A busboy went up to her booth, put a packet of tissues on the table, and scurried away before Petra could lash out at him. Petra glared at the pretentious little packet in its silly plastic wrap. Just what were they insinuating? That she was upset enough over a bad date to cry? How dare they!

She pushed the tissue packet away, then rested her chin in her hands. Why did finding the right person have to be so hard? For a long time, she just sat there with her head in her hands. A waiter approached with a menu, but then avoided her table when he saw how distraught Petra was. Like she would really want to order right now. Well, either that, or she would order an entire tub of ice cream to drown her sorrows, and that's not healthy.

"Hey. Hi," someone said. They were standing over Petra.

"Mmphh...wha?" she moaned. "Wha'yo'wan?"

"Are you okay?" It was a man, maybe a handful of years older than her, who was speaking.

"Bad date," Petra explained, not looking up. "He was an arrogant pig."

"Gee. Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks."

"Petra?"

"What?" She was a little annoyed. What did this guy want?

"I've...well, um...I'm a fan. I like you."

She lifted her head off her hands and squinted at him. "Really? What do you mean by that?"

He chewed his knuckles, unsure of himself. "Uhh…"

"It's the like kind of like, eh?"

"I have a crush! I admit it!"

Petra shifted her shoulders a little, then smiled. "Well, I'd hate for all the effort Olivia put into this dress and makeup to go to waste, and you seem like a real nice guy, and my other date went south, so…maybe we could chatter for a bit? I don't know."

He took a seat across from her. "My name's Maximus. Call me Max, okay?"

"I can do that, Max."

"Squee!" He grinned and clutched his hands under his chin. Max wasn't nearly as good-looking as Micah, but he did seem like a sweetheart. He had a round, cheeky face and ruffled hair. He dug a piece of folded paper out of his shirt pocket. Then he unfolded it and placed it next to his plate.

Petra leaned over. "What's that?"

"Just some notes. I have trouble remembering everything I want to say."

A little weird, but Petra sorta understood why someone would want that. "Alrighty then. What were you thinking of ordering?"

Max thumbed through the menu. "I could go for a plate of pancakes. I like pancakes."

"They don't serve breakfast at this time of night."

"They don't? Darn it. Okay, gimme a second to pick something else."

A waiter visited their table, asking if they were ready to order. Max shooed him away because he wasn't ready yet.

While they waited, Petra tried to make some conversation. "Ever dated before?"

"Meh, a few times. My last girlfriend dumped me on Christmas Eve."

"Aww," Petra said, feeling bad for him. "I'm sorry. That's got to sting."

"It took me a while to recover after that. You're the first girl I've dated since then. You see, I can't just casually date. I'm really looking for that soul mate. And it's hard to find! I need commitment. Dreams for the future, y'know?"

"Why? Do you have plans?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely."

"What are your plans?"

Again with the fate-tempting words. Max sat up straight in his seat and a light blinked on in his eyes. He consulted his notes, and then the pontificate began.

Max babbled so much that Petra struggled to follow: "What I was thinking is that we could have a date every two weeks from now until four months later. We're going to have to have at least five dates before the wedding or else the relationship will seem too rushed. We have to have the wedding in four months at most, because after that is my family reunion and my mother is going to harp on me if I haven't tied the knot by then. She keeps complaining that she wants grandchildren. Now I already have most of the stuff for the wedding planned out. Formal ceremony with full Catholic rites, followed by a reception at some dinner hall (we can pick that one out together.) The bridesmaids should all have bright yellow dresses, because yellow is traditionally feminine, and believe you me, Petra, I am very traditional. After the wedding we could honeymoon in Redstonia for a month. I have my eye on a house in town for us to live in as a family. It's a pretty pink house, and it has lots of room for our three kids. Oh! Speaking of kids, I have good names planned out for them. I was thinking Gertrude, Lawrence, and Rehoboam. Of course, those are my first choices. If you don't like those, don't worry, 'cause I have an entire list of more names I like. Oh, this is going to be so great! I see a flowery lifelong love budding right now, all ready to bloom and be beautiful!"

Petra just sat there, stunned. Her mouth gaped open. It took a full three minutes for her to regain her composure enough to respond.

"You...you have our entire relationship planned out beforehand? We've been dating for, like, two minutes!"

"I like to be prepared."

Petra pulled at her hair, still trying to process it. "But...but what if I don't want to do those things?"

"What do you mean?" Max sounded hurt.

"Okay, first of all, do you have any idea how long and tedious a Catholic wedding is? Second, why Redstonia of all places? That has to be the most boring honeymoon destination in the world. And third, three kids? What the hey? What if I don't want to have any kids?"

"But children are a blessing!" Max protested.

"And those are stupid names, too. Gertrude and Lawrence are so old-fashioned, and I don't know where you got the name Rehoboam, but it's stupid."

"It is not stupid! He was king of ancient Israel! Or was that Jeroboam? Dratted similar names."

"I think you're missing the point. What if I don't want to have any kids?"

"I want kids."

"That's easy for you to say. You're a man. You're not the one who has to carry a baby inside you for nine months. And you want me to have to go through that three times?"

"You're just being difficult. I have great ideas."

Petra flopped back in her seat and scowled. "I suppose you know what we're going to have for dinner on our 15th anniversary."

"That I do! Beef tips and creamed corn," Max said cheerily, completely missing her point.

"Look. Max, you're a very sweet and thoughtful young man, but for heaven's sake, give me some breathing room. And slow down. We can decide what we want the wedding to be like and where to live...later. When we get to that point. Like, we might not have the right chemistry and end up breaking up. In order to figure out if we do or don't, we have to date first. For now, let's settle down and eat dinner for our date, huh?"

"No, Petra!" Max whined. "I spent a lot of time coming up with my plans. I'm not going to let that go to waste. Come on! Please?"

"No! I'm not going to let you control our entire relationship. You're being as selfish as Micah."

"Who?"

"My bad date! This is turning out to be another bad date!" Petra jumped out of her seat, feeling a little hysterical.

"Don't dump meeee!" Max wailed. "I can't stand it!"

"I don't want to be your girlfriend. You're controlling! You're nice, but you're a control freak!"

"If you don't like my plans, maybe I should just go away. And look for someone else."

"Go right ahead, buster." Petra made shooing motions at him. "I'm sorry, Max, but this is not going to work out."

"Okay. Okay. Bye." He got out of his seat and walked away. "I can take a hint."

Petra slumped and sighed. She felt bad about being mean to Max, but he was way too controlling. Like, for heaven's sake! He had the entire relationship planned, down to the names of the three kids he wanted to have. Petra shook her head, hoping that he would learn to relax his expectations by the time he was ready to date another girl.

The waiter returned to the table, but then he paused awkwardly when he noticed that Petra was sitting alone.

"Uh-oh," he said, holding the water pitcher.

"This sucks," Petra complained, putting her head down. "Now the tally's two losers. What's next?"

"Uh...Uhm…" The waiter hurried away, forgetting to pour Petra a new glass of water. No way was he getting involved in dating drama.

Petra wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. She was getting cold in her dress. Some patrons were staring at her, having seen both dates turn sour, but Petra ignored them. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she wasn't allowed to do that. She was too tough to cry and angst over a bad date or two.

But she was still disappointed.

Was the problem them or her?

She rested her chin in her hands. Her eyes half-closed. The diner noise faded into a general mumble of background sound. She almost dozed off into a nap.

"Good evening!" a bright, Korean-accented voice called out suddenly. Petra sat up straight. That sounded like...Jesse. She glanced over her shoulder.

Jesse stood at the front of the line, trying to get a table. He had come alone—not even accompanied by his twin sister Jessica. He wore his normal clothes sans armor, but he did have a bushy green scarf around his neck. He took it off once he got inside and wound it around his arm.

"I'm sorry, Jesse, but we don't have any unoccupied tables," the waiter explained. "You'll just have to come back another time…"

Petra felt an impulse. Maybe it was because she had already been disappointed twice tonight, and now she didn't want her friend to be disappointed. Besides, she needed someone to talk to.

"Jesse! Jesse, over here!" she called, jumping up and waving to him. "I've got an open spot at my table. Come on over!"

Jesse asked the waiter if it was okay. Once given the clear, the small-statured, tan-skinned boy trotted over to Petra. He swung his scarf around his arm.

"Oh, hi, Petra. Gosh, you look nice." He smiled bashfully. "How come you're all dressed up?"

"Thanks. I was on a date," she replied.

"Date? Uh oh! Isn't your date going to be mad that I'm here? I should go away." He chewed his fingernail.

"No, no, no. My date is gone now. The first guy was a self-centered blowhard, and the other was a control freak. I sent them away. You're okay."

"Okay." Jesse sat across from her. "Sorry about that. They sound nasty."

"The first one was handsome, but a total brat. He stormed off because I didn't want to listen to him talk about himself all the time. And the second was nice, but he already had our entire relationship planned out, and I can't take that much organization. Yeah, they were losers."

"I've never dated before. What's it like? Do you just talk and eat dinner and stuff?"

"That's about it."

"What's the big fuss, then?"

"That's a good question." She smiled at him. Normally she was the one to bring Jesse down to earth when he was freaking out, but now the roles were reversed. He helped her snap out of the angst.

"Maybe...I dont' know...sometimes it's better when a boy and a girl do things and go places, but just as friends."

"You know what, Jesse?"

"What?"

"I think you're right...friend."

THE END