[Author's Note: Brace yourselves for a long-ass chapter]
Mattie pounded her head against her floor. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!" She sat up and raked her hands through her hair. Catching a glimpse of herself in her vanity mirror, she sighed. Today of all days she just had to be having a combination bad hair, bad face, and bad mood day. To top it all off she'd just snagged the only navy blue stockings she owned on a nail poking out of her door frame and gotten a highly noticeable run in it. She felt very much like crying, but did her best not to because then her face would be even more blotchy than it already was.
Mattie rose from the floor where she had collapsed in a heap of frustration and walked over to her dresser, searching frantically for a pair of stockings that would go with her pleated skirt. She finally settled on flesh-coloured ones and tossed them onto her bed to put on later.
The clock on her bedside table read 5:27. Recklessly, she yanked a brush through her tangled hair. When she had her hair going in one direction, her door opened suddenly.
"Hey Mattie, what's wrong with your hair?"
She glared at Sam. "My hair is not behaving today, and I'd appreciate it if you were to offer me some sympathy."
"Sympathy?" He squinted at her, and then smiled in triumph. "Does that means hugs?"
"No." Mattie frowned at her reflection. "Should I put my hair up or leave it down?"
"What do I look like, your beauty consultant?" He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against her wall. "Down. When you put it up, your face looks like a square."
"What are you, my beauty consultant?" she laughed. "Why are you in here anyway?"
"Because I think you're going to be late. It's almost 5:40."
Sliding into the new stockings, she said with marked determinedness, "Not if I run real fast."
"Oh yeah, that'll impress his dad if you're all sweaty."
"Where are my shoes?" she demanded shrill. "Shit!"
"Just wear the black ones. They're downstairs."
"They're dirty! I want the brown ones!"
"Mattie!" their father shouted from downstairs. "Are you still here?"
"I can't find my damn shoes!" she yelled back rather irritably. She dropped to her knees and stuck her head under her bed. "Ahahahahahahaha come to mama." Quickly jamming her feet into the shoes, she patted Sam on the head before she trampled down the stairs, and then kissed her dad on the cheek before she rushed out of the door.
Saying a silent prayer that she wasn't late, Mattie waited on the front stoop for someone to answer the door. Eventually, Gordie did. "Look at you, don't you look pretty," he laughed and stepped out of the way so that she could come in.
"Am I late?" she whispered. "And you look pretty too, Gordie."
Glancing at the clock in the hall, he shook his head. "Nope. Three minutes early actually."
"Crap! He's gonna think I'm over eager now because I'm early!"
"Shh, stop worrying, Mattie," he told her reassuringly. "He'll love you. You look great, and as long as you just act like you normally do and be yourself, you'll win him over in two seconds."
She smiled at him. "You're way too good to me, Gordie."
"And if you smile like that, he'll probably invite you over every night." Lightly holding her by the elbow, he brought her into the kitchen.
Mattie immediately noticed the yellow floor tiles and oak cupboards. There was a homey, welcoming look to the room, but she somehow felt put off and cold standing in it.
Mrs. Lachance turned around, with a warm smile that did not touch her deeply brown eyes. She took off her oven mitts and shook Mattie's hand briefly. "I'm Gordie's mother. I'm so happy to get to meet you finally, Mattie. I've heard wonderful things about you."
Although she highly doubted that, Mattie grinned anyway. "Thank you for inviting me over tonight."
John Lachance sauntered into the room, a tall, looming figure who did not look at all pleased to have Mattie as a dinner guest. "I hope you like meatloaf," he said tersely.
Waving a dismissive hand, Mattie laughed nervously. "Oh, I'll eat anything that's put in front of me as long as it's food."
Gordie snickered as Mr. Lachance scowled disapprovingly and Mattie winced and blushed. Walking over to the fridge, Mr. Lachance got himself a beer and said, "I'd offer you one too, Mattie, but I'm afraid in this household minors don't drink."
"I don't drink anyway, sir," she said. "Well I drink of course, because otherwise I'd die. But only like, water and milk and cranberry juice…" At this point, Mr. Lachance had lost interest in her and was checking what his wife was doing. Mattie sighed, looking up at Gordie with pleading, intimidated eyes.
Gordie whispered almost inaudibly, "He's just testing you."
A blood-curdling scream came from upstairs, and the four people crowded in the kitchen stared at the ceiling in surprise. "You have about six seconds left to live, you BASTARD!"
Above them, they heard frantic pounding footsteps followed by a loud crash. "My head!" a male voice yelled. "Start running!"
More pounding footsteps ensued, accompanied by more high-pitched screams. Then something crashed to the floor, and they heard the tinkling of glass shattering.
After a brief moment of silence, they began to yell again.
"Look what you DID!"
"I didn't do it!"
"You flew into it and broke it!"
"They're gonna send you to JAIL!"
Mr. Lachance slammed the fridge door shut and climbed the stairs two steps at a time.
The male voice cried, "Uncle John's coming!"
The girl screamed in horror.
"Hurry, hide in the bathtub!" the boy yelled.
"But it's wet!"
"Then behind the toilet! Quick, quick, quick!"
Mrs. Lachance shook her head mutely. "What on Earth gets into those two I'll never know."
Mattie stared at Gordie, concerned.
Shrugging, he said, "Tonight you will meet Toby's brother. They don't get along so well."
"I'm curious to see how you'll manage to scrounge up enough money to pay for that lamp, but you're going to find a way," Mr. Lachance's voice barked.
"Vincent broke it though!"
"You karate chopped me in the groin and I stumbled into the lamp! If you hadn't karate chopped me it wouldn't have happened!"
A look of amusement etched on her face, Mattie watched as an angered Mr. Lachance ushered a sopping wet Toby and her hobbling brother into the kitchen.
"Mattie!" Toby cried, and hugged her. "Welcome to our happy home!"
"Why are you all wet?" Mattie laughed.
"Because my stupid butt reaming brother attacked me with the shower head nozzle full spray. Good thing I'm not wearing white."
The boy grinned at Mattie and shook her hand. "Hi, I'm Toby's butt reaming brother Vincent. Nice to meet you."
The tension at supper could've been cut with a knife. Mattie was terrified about saying or doing something stupid. Gordie's father didn't say much, and she was sure that that was a bad sign. At several points during dinner, Gordie wished that Denny were there. He would like Mattie and his dad would trust Denny's judgement, and would like her too.
"More potatoes, Mattie?" Mrs. Lachance offered.
"Ooh, yes please." She accepted the bowl that was being passed to her.
"So, Mattie, you're in the eleventh grade, are you?" Mr. Lachance finally asked.
"Yes sir."
"And you're in Gordon's Creative Writing class?"
"Yep."
"Do you have aspirations to become a writer too?"
She took a sip from her glass of milk and wiped her mouth with her napkin for fear of a milk moustache. "Not particularly, no. I like the class though."
"Gordon will be furthering his education after high school in the fall."
"I know. He's very smart."
"Kind of puts a damper on the longevity of this so-called relationship, doesn't it?"
"Dad," Gordie said, shocked.
"I don't know, sir," she replied quietly.
"That's something to think about, wouldn't you say?"
Once the dishes had been cleared from the table and Gordie's mother had made it apparent that she didn't want Mattie's help washing them, the two of them went outside on the back porch to be alone.
The night had a foreboding, biting chill in its air, but the smell of autumn was pleasant and crisp. It was quiet except for the slow creak of the porch swing as Gordie and Mattie gently swung back and forth on it.
"What are you thinking about?" he murmured.
"How much of a loser I'll look like if I start to cry."
"Ohh," he muttered softly, putting his fingers through her hair and urging her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Mattie…it's not your fault."
"I tried really hard," she insisted. The tremble in her tiny voice told him that she had begun to cry. "I'm not sure what I did wrong, but I wish I could do tonight over again. I really wanted your father to like me."
"You were perfect," he promised. "Really. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just him, Mattie. He's an unhappy man who's set in his ways. He's never really forgiven me for not being the one to die in that accident, so it wouldn't make sense if he were to accept you right away."
She sniffled. Even though Gordie's arms around her felt real and sincere, she didn't quite believe his words.
"There's something wrong with him for not liking you, okay? My mom obviously liked you. Toby likes you. Vincent liked you. While we were clearing the table and you were helping my mom in the kitchen after supper, he actually asked me how I managed to get someone like you to look twice at me, to which Toby stabbed him in the hand with a fork…"
"Gordie, I'm so happy God made someone like you," she said suddenly.
His laughter floated into the dark night. "Don't get all sappy on me, Mattie."
"It's true." She looked at him. "I am going to fall so in love with you it's not even funny."
"Is that a threat?"
She jabbed him in the stomach. "Shut up."
"I think I already have," he said.
"Already have what?"
"Fallen."
"Did you hurt yourself?"
"Fallen in love, dumbass, way to spoil a mood."
"You started it," she accused. "You laughed at me."
"I'm sorry. Forgive me?"
"Not on your life."
"Damn." He tried again. "How about now?"
As she kissed him, Gordie felt the smile on her lips.