Chapter 2: Tricky Business
Yes, there is a reason why I named this chapter 'Tricky Business.' Read on; I don't have too much to say, because the story is pretty self-explanatory.
I took the stairs three at a time and began to clean up my room; I had dirty clothes, textbooks, parchment, quills, other miscellaneous books, and an assortment of girly accessories scattered across my floor, and James would probably want to come upstairs later, meaning that I would have to clean up.
After throwing things relatively into their rightful places, I ran to my bathroom to see how I looked. I was looking quite untidy in my oversized shirt and shorts, so I would obviously have to change. My hair needed a wash and a bit of bonding time with my mum's blow-dryer and I suddenly realized that I hadn't shaved my legs in two weeks. This was going to take a little longer than I had anticipated.
I picked up the phone and called Patricia's house; Petunia was there, and said that she would be home in about an hour. I didn't trust her an inch, so when I hung up the phone, I made a mental note to march over to their house and haul her back. I jumped into the shower, taking care to ensure that my legs were clean and my hair was well-washed. I put on my bathrobe and opened up my mess of a clothes cupboard.
What was one supposed to wear when their worst enemy was supposed to dine at their house in a few hours? I wish I knew, because it was very tricky business indeed. I couldn't look too proper because then it would seem like I cared about the family, which I didn't – not in the least bit. I also couldn't look too relaxed, because then my mother would get upset and the Potters would have a bad opinion of me; though I loathed their son, I didn't want the parents to be displeased with me. I picked several outfits, but I threw them all back in the cupboard; none of them would do.
I ended up wearing a white skirt which reached around mid-thigh with a sequined turquoise and white shirt. I spent an hour or so doing some extensive curling with some assistance from my curling iron and blow-dryer; once my hair was half-dry, I began to straighten it lightly, creating my favorite wavy style. I didn't want to tie it up after doing all I had to it, so I put in two white clips on either side; it looked rather nice. I even put on a little mascara, a subtle pink lipstick, and pearl earrings, which was not something I did very often. I was rather proud of myself; I looked presentable now, and my room did as well.
When I finished with myself and my room, it was nearly five. I ran downstairs, and like I had expected, Petunia was not there. I put on my sandals and ran over to Patricia's house a block away, pulled Petunia back to our house, and looked her over critically, trying to judge whether or not she was in any state to be seen in public.
"Lily, I don't want to attend this bloody dinner with the Potters," Petunia informed me irately. "Why must I?"
"Because Mum insisted on it," I said. "Believe me; I don't want to do this either. The boy who will be joining is one I dislike intensely."
"I heard Mum say that the James Potter you complain about incessantly is the one who is coming here tonight; is that why you're so ticked off?" Petunia asked.
"Our mother met his mother in the grocery store, apparently," I said, sighing. "I couldn't believe it either; I can't stand James."
"You said he wasn't even good-looking," she said. "What's the point of having him over then?"
"I dunno, but if I did, I would have done my best to prevent it from happening," I said. "I think your outfit looks all right though, so you can help me get dinner set up."
"Me? Set up dinner for a wizard freak and his family? No sir; I'm doing no such thing," Petunia refused. "You can do that yourself."
"Petunia, please; just help me," I said, handing her some plates and glasses. "Set up for six places, and put the silverware out as well. I need to make sure we actually have some food."
"Why do I have to do this?" she whined. "I'm not in the mood; I wanted to be at Patricia's house. She had some gossip about our next door neighbor, and she was just about to tell me when you came in."
"You'll get over it," I said. "Now set the table, would you?"
"This is unfair," Petunia complained with a pout. "I don't want these people here."
"Believe me; you're not the only one," I muttered.
"Mum is always meeting weird new people," she went on in the same nasally voice as she began to set the table. "I don't want to have to see them if I don't want to."
"Damn it, we don't have enough food," I said. "Can you please shut up, Petunia? I need to think about what we have to cook."
"Well, I don't really care what it is, so long as it's not that salmon Mum tried to feed us last week," Petunia said daintily. "That was horrid."
"No, no," I said. "Unfortunately, we are not permitted to murder our guests, so that is out of the question. Otherwise, I would have happily served it to James."
"What about that chicken we had yesterday?" Petunia asked. "That was pretty good."
"Was Vernon here again?" I asked. "I thought we would still have some of that chicken, but it's not here anymore."
"Stop blaming everything on him," Petunia objected. "And for your information, no, he wasn't here. I think Dad probably ate it before he left for Spain the other day."
"Yeah, that's probably it," I said. "Damn, what are we supposed to eat?"
"You know how to cook, don't you?"
"Well, yes, but not very much," I said. "I only know how to make a few select chicken dishes and rice."
"Why don't you make the chicken and rice, and then make some steamed vegetables?" Petunia suggested.
"That's brilliant!" I raced to the refrigerator and began pulling things out at top speed. "How did you think of that?"
"I'm still free of the freak gene," she told me. "That means that I can think more clearly than you can about normal things; you're only good for the weird things."
I rolled my eyes, but otherwise ignored her comment. "Is the table ready?"
"Yes, it is," Petunia said, gesturing to the now-set table. "Now if you don't mind, I will be at Patricia's house."
"No, no, you will not be at Patricia's house," I said, lugging her back to the living room. "Talk to her on the telephone if you must, but you are not going anywhere. Mum insisted that you must stay for the dinner, and if you're not here when she comes back, then both of us will in trouble."
"All right, all right," she grumbled, picking up the phone sulkily. "I'll be up in my room. Call me when the freak show comes to town, would you?"
"Can you please stop calling all of us freaks?" I requested. "James is an idiot, not a freak; there is a difference."
"Well, you all wave sticks of wood and expect things to happen; it's not exactly normal, is it?" Petunia said, perching herself on the couch with the phone in her hand. "Leave me alone now; I have to talk to Patricia about what our neighbor did yesterday."
I rolled my eyes for the second time. "Fine. Just be ready when the Potters get here."
She responded to my call with a nod, but she was already speaking to Patricia when I next looked at her. I grabbed the cookbook off the shelf and opened it up to the correct page so that I could start with dinner; I had a lot to do before Mum and the Potters got to the house.
I lost track of time while I was making dinner. I wasn't too talented with the Muggle machines located in the kitchen, so the process was more painful for me than it should have been. When Mum got home at about seven twenty (Mr. Universe was known for holding her back overtime if she had done an exceptional job), she hardly noticed what all I had managed to get done in her absence; she just ran upstairs to change. Petunia was gossiping away with Patricia on the phone and I was left by the table, waiting for the Potters and my own family to come to the table.
"I'm so, so sorry Lils," my mother apologized as she gave me a tight hug. "You know how the boss gets; today, he was so thrilled with my story, he made me stay extra to show it to the rest of the employees as an 'example of excellence.' Then he bought me a celebratory coffee, and he wouldn't stop talking! It was difficult to get out even now, and I'm very sorry. Thank you for getting everything done."
"It's all right, Mum," I said, my previous impatience with her dying off when I saw how sincere she looked. Though she was supposed to be my mother, she felt more like my sister than anything else; there were even times when I thought that I was the mother rather than her.
My musings were interrupted, however, by the trill of the doorbell. Inwardly, I was bawling; they were here. Mum told me to get the door while she tried to yank the phone from Petunia's ear, and I snickered to myself as I listened to their shouting. I took a deep, calming breath and made my most enigmatic smile before opening the door.
There, I saw, standing on my doorstep, a sight that I had thought would never meet my poor eyes; James Potter, neatly groomed, and accompanied by his parents.
They're here! Remember: These are not my characters – they are all J. K. Rowling's, leave me a review, and please read on to the next chapter:D