Rachael's Secret
Rachael
"What about Nick Spats?" I asked. All three friends burst out laughing. Tia, Marcy, Nicole, and Angela, my best friends. We had always been together. Tia was a rich, blonde girl who attracted guys like a magnet attracted iron fillings, Marcy was a gorgeous brunette with a boyfriend she adored (and constantly talked about), Nicole was a bubbly, giggly bundle of fun who everyone liked, and Angela was a fiery redhead. I was a medium-sized girl with tan skin and slanty, exotic eyes. At the moment we were at my house for a sleepover in honor of the first day of ninth grade in a couple of days and looking over my yearbook, deciding which guys were "hot" and which guys were "not."
"I like him." I insisted. "He has interesting features."
And he did. His eyes were dark and serious. He also had longish brown hair and a crooked smile. He looked like it was all a joke and he was above it, too mature for it all.
Nicole said, "Who cares? Boys are overrated." It was apparent that Nicole would rather be doing something else. She had no need for boys, and didn't care to waste her time talking about them.
"He doesn't look rich." observed Tia superficially.
"So what?" I snapped. "Neither am I!"
Angela tilted her head and gazed intently at Nick's photograph. "He might be worthwhile, but he seems snobby."
"Is not." I pouted.
"Whatever." said Angela, rolling her eyes. "Just saying."
There was a timid knock at the door. "Rachael, dear, lights out at midnight, okay?"
"Sure, Mom."
"Night, Mrs. Quagmire."
"Goodnight, Mrs. Quagmire."
"Night, Mrs. Q."
"Goodnight, girls."
It was the first day of school. I was wearing worn blue jeans and a white tee shirt that said, "Everybody loves an Italian girl." I walked into homeroom and sat down. I turned around and noticed that Tia, Angela, Marcy, and Nicole were all in Mr. Jeevis's homeroom with me. Then I saw him. So was Nick Spats! I smiled at him. He was slouching and gazing around the classroom. He appeared to be satisfied with his surroundings. He flashed me back that crooked smile I had come to love. I smoothed my hair instinctively. His grin widened. I flushed with pleasure.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked around. Tia (looking like a model for Abercrombie & Fitch) looked smug. She tossed her hair effectively and said, "So, I see that you and Nick-"
"Hiya kids! My name's Mr. Jeevis!" interrupted out hyperactive teacher. "I love teaching! I have a wife named Lucy-"
As Mr. Jeevis jumped hyperactively around the classroom, explaining about his daughter Yvonne, I daydreamed about Nick. Dating, kissing, going steady, marrying…
The bell rang. Off to my next class!
Nick
Wow, I just left Language Arts and my nutty teacher, Mr. Jeevis. But something great happened. I met this gorgeous chick. I didn't catch her name, but, oh my god, she is just-wow! She has this thick hair and dark, intelligent eyes. They're slanty and her eyeliner makes them look exotic and inticing. And the best part? She flirted with me! Her eyes were on me the whole class. I've made up my mind. I am asking her out!
Math. Oh, great . I walk in dully, but brighten when I see that this girl is there. Next to an empty seat! I nab it before anyone else.
"Hey," she says, sort of shyly. "I've been looking forward to looking at you. Oh! I meant, meeting you, of course!" She blushs. She is cute when shes embarrassed.
"Me too." I say truthfully. "Who are me?"
She looks confused. "Um, sorry?"
"Uh, I mean you."
She raises one eyebrow. Boy, she is good at that. "Me what?"
"Who are you?" Now I'm embarrassed.
"Oh." she laughs. "I'm Rachael Quagmire."
I smile. "I'm Nick Spats."
"Wonderful." she smiles again. Her teeth are perfect. Straight and blindingly white.
Just then, in walks the math teacher. "I'm Mr. Ullumnus." he says. He has a British accent, which is interesting enough to hold my attention for a while, but I soon lose interest in his dog, Jenny. I soon fall into thinking about Rachael.
She passes me a slip of paper. It reads:
" My phone number:
(330) 819- 7766
Call me! "
I grin like a fool and look up at her. She is blushing but grinning. I tear the corner of a piece of notebook paper and scribble down:
"My phone number:
(330) 819- 9040
I will.. You call me sometime too."
I watch her fold it up until it's about the size of an atom and tuck it into her pocket.
The bell rings. I hum like a moron. Who cares?
Rachael
I race in the front door of my house and bellow, "MOM, I'M HO-OME! GUESSWHATGUESSWHATYOU'RENEVERGONNABELIEVEIT! OH MOM OH MOM GUESSWHAT!"
"You had a lot of sugar for lunch?" is Mom's sarcastic reply.
I breathlessly hand her Nick's phone number.
Mom squints. "What is this? I can't even read this. Ugh, what horrible handwriting!"
I let out a noise of frustration. "It's Nick's number!"
My mother is Violet Quagmire. She used to be Violet Baudalaire, but she married Quigley Quagmire and had me. She had a long and miserable life, but now she's very happy.
Now she's acting all coy. "Oh, I see. A boyfriend. What's the last name? Maybe I know the parents."
I tell her.
Her happy look changes to a pained look.
"I know the parents all right." she says grimly. "Nick's mother is-"
Nick
"Oh, Harry. I couldn't live without you. Please, please don't leave me!" (sob) "I-I love you."
"Irene, I can't be with you. Marcia is my soul mate! She's exactly like me! I don't love you!"
"W-we have everything in common, Harry! We, um, both are…human! And we're both white! And you snowboard and I ski! And-"
"I'm sorry, Irene. But Marcia snowboards like me."
"NOOOOOOO!"
I am abruptly interrupted from my favorite television program, The Tragic Tales of the Young and Besotted by Mom slamming the front door and saying, "Nicky, c'mere and get Momma a cuppa." Which means she wants a cup of coffee. Normally, I hate it when she calls me "Nicky" and especially being interrupted from Tragic Tales, but, today I'm just so happy about meeting Rachael, everything bounces off me like hail stones bounce off of the sidewalk.
And so I run down and fix Mom a cappuccino. She loves it.
After she sips for a while, I say, "Mom, guess what?"
"Hmm, what is it, darling?"
"I met a girl."
This instantly captures Mom's attention. "Really? Is she pretty? Will I be expecting any grandchildren yet?"
I give her a pained look. "Mom, I'm only 15. And yes, she is pretty."
"What's this girl's name?"
"It's Rachael Quagmire."
To my surprise, my mother's amused face contorts to a look of fury. "WHAT? YOU ARE FRATERINIZING WITH A QUAGMIRE? WHY, THAT LITTLE CAKESNIFFER FRIEND OF YOURS (Cakesniffer? What is she talking about?) IS THE DAUGHTER OF-"
Rachael
The next day, I go to school in a state of shock. How can sweet Nick be related to that horrid woman? And how can Mom command me to stay away from him. I'm sure he's different. But Mom just wouldn't listen. I'm not paying attention, so I bump into someone. Guess who? Nick, of course.
I cry, "Your mom is Carmelita Spats?" at the same time as he bellows, "Your mom is Violet Baudelaire? And your dad is Quigley Quagmire?"
"Yes." we both say defensively at the same time.
"Your mom is a horrid witch!" I scream.
"Your mom is a cakesniffer!" he yells.
"A what?" I say.
Nick looks embarrassed. "Well, I don't exactly know, but my mom says your mom is one."
"Well, your mom is wrong." I say indignantly. "My mom is really cool!"
"So is mine!" growls Nick.
I take a deep breath. "Listen. I won't mention your mom if you don't mention mine, okay? We can't let this affect our relationship."
Nick looks uncomfortable. "Well, you see, my mom banned me from going out with you."
"So did mine. So what?"
Nick grinned. "You are so right."
Nick
Whew. So I'm still with Rachael. I say it to myself to comfort myself over and over again.
School's over. It's the weekend. I smile to myself as I walk to the phone with Rachael's number. Luckily Mom is watching reruns of "CSI.," so I'm safe. The phone rings. Rachael answers.
"Hello."
"Hey, it's Nick."
"Oh, hey." She says it in a flirtatious voice.
"Hey. Wanna go to the Homecoming Dance with me?"
She sounds nervous. "I have a dress, and I'm not going with anyone, but Mom'll find out."
"Not on my watch. Just meet me by the office, comprendo?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" She hangs up.
I continue to smile into the phone. I can't wait!
Rachael
"Only three more days."
"Do you have a date?"
"I don't know whether to buy a pink dress or maybe blue."
"I have split ends! I need a hair cut!"
"I'm breaking out."
All anyone is talking about is the homecoming dance. And that's just fine with me, because that's all I care to think about. One whole night with Nick. My dress is red. I hope he likes it. I've decided to straighten my hair. Tia and I went shopping and I also bought a lot of make-up. I have red heels too.
The other day I had a close call. Mom said, "Are you going to that dance with anyone?" My heart stopped. I swallowed and barely managed to rasp out, "Ah, no." Mom smiled. She didn't seem to notice my discomfort. "That's okay, dear. Just have fun." Oh, I will.
Nick
Okay, I have the flowers. I have the stylish suit. I have the polished shoes. I have matching socks. I have combed hair, brushed teeth, a mouthwashed mouth, shampooed hair, scrubbed body. I am ready.
"Bye, Mom." I call into the bedroom. Mom is watching Fear Factor with a horrified sort of fascination on her face and eating popcorn. The contestants of Fear Factor seem to be eating tarantulas live. I shudder. I usually don't mind spiders, but the sight of people stuffing them down their throats like there's no tomorrow with nauseated expressions makes me look away in disgust.
"Oh, bye, Nicky."
I drive in Mom's white corvette to the school. I can already hear 1985 blasting and I'm not even out of the car. I start sweating like a pig. Will she like my suit? The flowers? I think she likes roses. I hope. Then a terrible thought hits me.
What if Rachael hates me? She could be doing this out of pity for me. Maybe she feels bad that I don't have a girlfriend. Her and her boyfriend are probably laughing about it right now. In the school. Maybe her mother and her planned this. They probably want to humiliate me because Mrs. Quagmire wanted revenge toward Mom in some way.
By the time I get inside, I'm so convinced that Rachael hates me that I am surprised when suddenly I am smothered in smooth materiel. When I surface and the big bunch of smooth cloth pulls away, I see who has hugged me. It's Rachael. Her cheeks are flushed and her dark eyes are shining. A stray curl falls onto her face. And her dress…she looks like a movie star. Wow. Suddenly, I feel like I'm watching a conditioner commercial or something.
"Nick, you look amazing! I- wow. Gosh."
I cleared my throat. "You look wonderful."
We smiled at each other shyly.
"So…would ya like to dance?" I say, grinning.
"Yes, please." she grinned right back.
1985 is over. Pump It is playing so loudly that the floors are shaking. We basically move to the music. I have never been happier.
Rachael
I think I'm going to pass out. In fact, I know I am. Nick looks absolutely fabulous. He is wearing this fabulous tux that is distinguished but not geeky or weird. His hair is brushed, but not slicked back so he looks tasteful. (I hate slicked-back hair, it looks greasy.) His smile is unbelievable. Right now we are dancing to Since U Been Gone. But then the song changes. And my heart falls to my stomach. It's a slow song.
I awkwardly put my hands on his shoulders. He kindly takes one off and holds it, then puts his on my lower back. I am so embarrassed. Acting like I know what I'm doing, and he's the one who's got this down. No wonder. He's probably gone to so many places with so many girls…I feel so small and inexperienced next to this mature, tall boy. I hate feeling so young. "Nick, let's leave. Can we go somewhere else?"
"Yeah, sure. Lets go to…um…my house. My Mom's going out on a date tonight."
"Okay."
We left in a hurry. Nick turns on the car radio. The Phantom of the Opera is playing.
"I love The Phantom of the Opera." said Nick.
I smiled. "Me too. I just love musicals, even though I can't hold a note." I chuckled.
"Are you serious? Me too!" Nick exclaimed.
"Really? Grease is my favorite. I love The Sound of Music too."
"My favorite is Guys & Dolls."
We chatted about musicals until we arrived at a small, dirty white house which I assume was Nick's. Nick unlocked the door and we went in.
Nick sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside him. I sat down, smiling. He put his arm around me. I leaned into him.
We talked for hours and hours. We talked about serious, deep things such as love, life, and our futures, and silly, light things like school and silly teachers and colleges. I found it easy to talk to Nick about anything. My conversations with my past boyfriends had always been shallow and awkward.
I found out that Nick dreamed of being an artist. He loved music and painting. His father had come home drunk one night, hit his mother, and passed out on the couch. He had been eleven years old, watching TV in a chair beside the couch. The previous day at school a speaker had come to school and talked about not hanging out with people who drank a lot or smoked. It was a great blow to Nick that his own father, did this thing that his own beloved teacher had said was terrible. He later found out that his father had done this ever since before he was born. His mother had hid her boyfriend's problem from Nick, and hadn't broken up with this man because she wanted her son to have a father. However, after that incident, and hearing Nick cry himself to sleep, she decided that enough was enough and dumped her boyfriend, earning herself a black eye, but protecting her son. Nick hoped to go to Hubert University of Art.
"I'm pretty good. I'll show you." said Nick, jumping up. He walked into the kitchen, which was connected to the living room with a doorless doorway, and picked up a folder from the counter. He showed me his drawings, which were truly amazing. He really has talent.
"You'll get into that school, hands down." I said truthfully.
"Thanks." Nick said.
And then there was this moment of silence. It wasn't awkward. Actually, it felt like everything was still. Nick moved toward me. I didn't move. He pulled me toward him. And somehow his lips met mine. My heart stopped. I felt peculiar, but not in a bad way, so pressed myself right up to him, looped my arms around his neck and kissed back, hard. And he kissed harder. And then we stopped.
Nick looked nervous but kind of glad. I smiled, and he looked relieved and was absolutely glowing. I was a bit tired, so I leaned back and laid down. He did the same, holding my hand.
We stayed like that for a long, long time, saying nothing. And I think I fell asleep.
Nick
I woke up with a jolt. Wait, what? We fell asleep? I sat up, confused. Oh yeah. Rachael and me. That's when I noticed the furious figure in the kitchen. I yelped.
"Yahh! Who are you? How did you get into my house? Why-"
A door opened. My Mom walked out and called, "Nick? What- AIEEEEEE! AAAAAH! Who are you! Get out of my house!"
"I am sorry to wake you." The maniac was very calm. It was a woman who was pale. She was extremely thin. Her skin was stretched tightly over her body, so she look almost like she would blow away in the wind. Her eyes were giant in her thin face and she seemed to be wearing a gray pullover that was about 20 sizes too big, and a lighter gray pair of sweatpants. Her hair was dark with streaks of gray. And, as I mentioned earlier, she was angry.
"Where is my daughter? I have reason to believe that she went to a prom with the boy that lives in this house. I knocked, but , considering the fact that it is 2:11 in the morning, no one answered. The door was open, so I let myself in. I apologize for startling you."
Before I could say a word, Mom spoke up. "Well, you stupid cakesniffer, you have the wrong house. My son went to the prom alone."
Right then, Rachael sat up. Her mascara was streaky from rubbing her eyes before she fell asleep. Her hair was tangled. "Nick, what's going on? Mom?"
The woman gasped. "Rachael! How could you! I told you this boy was trouble! And you slept over at his house! Have you no sense at all!" Then she turned on Mom. "And you! Carmelita Spats! You have been nasty, cruel, rude, and unfair before, but this! You-you lied to me about where my daughter was and let her sleep over at a boy's house? Do you have any clue how much I worried, how many hours I stayed up, waiting for my daughter? How much I worried, thinking my daughter was kidnapped or dead or Lord only knows what else! You horrid witch!"
Now Mom was mad. "For your information, Cakesniffer, I had no idea that your hideous daughter was here! I had a date with my boyfriend tonight, and got home late. I didn't hear anything, so I assumed that Nick had gone to bed, since Nick said he would be home at midnight. And Nick told me that he was going alone! And who's the witch? Your daughter's the irresponsible witch here!"
"Don't you dare call my daughter a witch!" Then Mrs. Quagmire turned on me. "You!" she hissed. She ran to Rachael, hugged her, then slapped her. I stood there, still holding my pillow, my mouth hanging open. Rachael pretty much did the same, until her mother slapped her. Then she yelped.
Mom said, "Stop! Everybody sit down, and we will discuss this rationally. I want to go to bed. Violet, I'll go make some coffee."
The rest of us sat down at the kitchen table.
Rachael cleared her throat nervously. "Um, Mom, this is Nick Spats. Nick, meet my mom, Violet Quagmire."
"Hi." Nick croaked.
"How do you do?" said Mrs. Quagmire primly and coldly.
"Er- well -ah -I suppose it could be worse. Er- ma'am." I stuttered, frazzled by her cold indifference.
"That will do, young man." More coldness.
Thankfully, Mom promptly came back with two cups of coffee. "How do you take your coffee, Ms. Quagmire?" she asked crisply.
"Black." responded Mrs. Quagmire.
We all waited apprehensively as Mom added generous helpings of sugar to her coffee and poured in vanilla creamer. I started toward the fridge for a Coke.
"I don't think so, Nicolas Jonathon Spats. Get back here." hissed Mom.
"But, Mom-"
"Nicolas!"
"Rachael might have wanted-"
"Sit down."
I obliged.
"Now," began Mrs. Quagmire. "I have a few questions that I would strongly advise you answer, unless, of course, you enjoy torture."
I gulped. It was probable that Mrs. Quagmire didn't mean it, but her cold, furious stares made it easy to believe that she was perfectly serious.
"First of all," Mrs. Quagmire said, sipping her coffee, "Why didn't you listen to me, Rachael? Why didn't you pick some other boy, not some son of a-" Mrs. Quagmire stopped and took a deep breath. It was apparent that she did not want to sink to the level of swearing at two teenagers.
"Mom, Nick is the most amazing, caring, wonderful boy I've ever met. I'm not just going to toss him to the side like an outdated outfit! I don't have the ability to control who I fall in love with! I didn't listen to you because you were wrong. YOU WERE WRONG, MOM!" Rachael burst into tears. I put my arm around her. She shoved it off. "You don't want me to be h-happy! You just want me to be- to be miserable like….like you were!"
Silence. Total and complete silence.
Rachael
Before, I know it, the words are out. Mean, hurtful words that I never meant to say. Words that I have been wondering about, considering, and trying to ignore my whole life.
Mom looks like an airplane smacked into her. Struck dumb. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth hangs open. What have I done?
She snaps out of it after a few minutes. "How could you. How could you think that I would want to put my own child through what I had to go through. How could you be that naïve."
Tears of shame are sliding down my cheeks. "Mom, I'm sorry." My voice broke. My next words come out in a whisper. "So, so sorry."
Now her voice is rising in anger. "I told you to stay away from that boy because of that woman who sits beside me!" She points accusingly at Ms. Spats.
Ms. Spats is now mad, and I don't blame her. "Excuse me, Violet, but I would appreciate it if you would not blame your actions on me. I had no part in your decision."
"YOU MADE MY LIFE MISERABLE AS A TEENAGER! YOU HELPED A HORRIBLE VILLIAN! ME AND MY POOR DEAD BROTHER AND MY LITTLE SISTER! COUNT OLAF KILLED KLAUS! AND IT IS YOUR FAULT! YOU EXPECT ME TO TRUST THE SON OF A CRUEL VILLIAN! I THINK NOT!" Mom screamed and sobbed, spilling coffee down her front.
Ms. Spats said quietly, "That was not my fault. That was the fault of Mama Esme."
"DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON ESME!"
"Mama Esme was a horrible villain. That is no fault of mine. She held Klaus while Olaf killed. Perhaps I watched it, but there was nothing I could do. I was tied up, too. Mama Esme was planning to kill me, she was tiring of my endless needs, my spoiledness. I was screaming, and couldn't care less that my adoptive parents were killing someone else. I was selfish, and bratty. Trust me, it haunted me many nights that there was nothing I could do to help him. I was only a small girl, and it was quite traumatic to see a young boy killed. It was only good luck that I managed to escape and Klaus didn't. I am no villain. Believe me, Violet, I too have gone through many hardships. I was not aware that you did not know that I could not help Klaus. I suspect that Esme was the cause of that."
Mom stopped crying and listened in rapture. It was clear that she had been waiting for an explanation for a long time.
"S-Sunny had to go into therapy for many years. S-She still has depression problems and a serious case of bipolar disorder. It's no wonder. Her babyhood and c-childhood were extremely difficult."
"I am sorry to hear that." said Ms. Spats calmly. "The same goes for me, although I do not suffer from bipolar disorder."
Nick and I gaped at our mothers.
"Wait, I had an uncle?" I said incredulously.
"You were adopted?" gasped Nick.
"Aunt Sunny had Bipolar Disorder?"
"Who's Count Olaf?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on just a second. I am not done with you two yet. It was completely inappropriate that you two went together without permission. I'm very upset that you disrespect my judgment so. I can see that we have a lot to talk about."
The three of us talked for many hours. Mom and Ms. Spats explained many things to Nick and I. Nick found out that Ms. Spats had been more or less kidnapped by two evil people called Esme Squalor and a count named Olaf. She had attended a boarding school and bullied many people, reacting to the lack of love and attention at her home. She had, in fact, bullied Mom. I found out that Mom had a brother named Klaus. He had died at age 13. He was killed by Ms. Spats' adoptive father (and her mother to some degree). Aunt Sunny had been trapped in an empty aquarium, and she was 2 years old. It had affected her greatly to watch people slit her brother's throat. At the end, Ms. Spats carried out a stack of books. These books were titled, A Series of Unfortunate Events. I read the back of one called The Hostile Hospital and gasped.
"These are all about you and Klaus and Sunny?" I asked incredulously.
"And several others." answered Mom, smiling and nodding.
"Why didn't you show us these before?" asked Nick. He looked a little shell -shocked. Somehow, I don't blame him. He was holding a book called The Austere Academy.
"Nick, the reason why I didn't tell you earlier was because you have gone through so many hardships throughout the years. So many things I would give anything to erase from your memory." Ms. Spats looked tired. "My fault. And I know that you are smart enough to know that those things were my fault and you probably resent me for it. And as a child-" She waved The Grim Grotto helplessly. "-I was a brat. A silly spoiled brat. My parents resented me too. I sought them out after I escaped from Esme and Olaf and they didn't want me back. They shut the door in my face! They didn't even send the police out to look for me when I went missing! They didn't send me to a boarding school to learn and make friends and branch out! They saw it as an easy way to get rid of me! I was hated by everyone, and for good reason! But, I felt so lost, and when your-" Ms. Spats sniffled and a tear ran down her cheek. "-your f-father was sober, he w-was so good to me and he a-acted as if he- as if he-" She began bawling. Mom ran over and soothed her.
When Ms. Spats had regained her composure, she said quietly, "The bottom line is, I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't want you to resent me any more than you already did. That's why I didn't show you earlier."
"Mom, I don't resent you. It's not your fault that Dad was like that. I don't care if you were a brat then, you're a star now." Nick said. Then he walked out and kissed her. She gave him a watery smile.
"Rachael, I didn't show you earlier because the story of the Baudelaire orphans is a morbid one, not fit for children to read about. But, now I see that you are much more mature than I thought. I want you to read these." said Mom proudly.
Ms. Spats opened her mouth to protest. Mom held up her hand.
"I have my own set at home."
"Good," said Ms. Spats, relieved, "because, Nick, I would like you to read these too." She handed him a book. "You start with The Bad Beginning."
Nick
I am so tired. It is now 4:09 in the morning and we are still talking. Believe it or not, Mom and Mrs. Quagmire, sworn enemies in their teenage years, are laughing and talking over about their sixtieth cups of coffee. Rachael and I were quiet, happily listening to our mothers giggle over the absurdity of The Daily Punctilio.
Suddenly, Rachael, ever polite said, "Excuse me."
The two middle-aged women stopped giggling and cleared their throats in unison, somewhat embarrassed.
"Yes, Rachael?" enquired Mom.
Rachael took a deep breath. I have a feeling I know what she is doing, so I squeeze her hand, trying to give her a little extra courage. I suddenly realize that neither of our mothers know about Rachael and I kissing in the living room. I blush.
"Ms. Spats and Mom-"
"Oh, please call me Auntie Carmelita, darling." said Mom pleasantly. Mrs. Quagmire barely contained a chuckle.
"Um, yes, well, thank you. Anyway, I was wondering if we could maybe discuss something important to Nick and I." She looked at me pleadingly, so I swallowed and began talking.
"Could we still- you know- go out?" There. I said it. Both mothers sat perfectly still, thinking. Then they whispered like crazy.
Rachael let go of my hand. I looked at her. She smiled and brushed my hair out of my face.
Mom cleared her throat. "All right. You can be together."
"But, be safe and responsible. Don't go out without asking again." added Mrs. Quagmire quickly.
"Okay." I shrugged.
"Sure thing." said Rachael.
And then they left. And I slept.
Rachael and I are married now. We are so happy. We also have a son. His name is Klaus.
THE END
Please comment on this story! This is my second story that I have submitted to I really want to be an author, so please tell me if you think I've got what it takes. I hope you enjoyed this story!