I wouldn’t be surprised if I suddenly shot lasers out of my eyes with how hard I glared at Deen. She winked at me before looking back at Mom and listening to her stories. Deen continued to trace her toe up and down my leg beneath the table. I subtly moved my leg to the side, but Deen could still reach me. Mom would notice if I moved too much.

“Erind is a plain girl,” Mom began to say.

“Thanks, Mom,” I sarcastically mumbled.

“But you’d be astounded to know that many guys pursued her,” Mom continued. “I could remember maybe five suitors just in high school. I’m not sure how many she had in college because I was all over the country.”

Deen pinched my thigh with her toes. “Erind has a lot of boyfriends?” she asked with what seemed to be genuine disbelief.

“Just a few,” I said. My hands were under the table, trying to stop her foot from going higher. “Nothing serious.” Deen stopped pinching me after I said that.

“Nothing serious because I didn’t allow it.” Mom sternly waved her fork at me. “Studies first. Don’t prematurely start a family.” To Deen, she said, “I was very direct and open with my daughter about the birds and bees.”

I sighed. “Yes, Mom. I didn’t make you a grandchild when I was in high school, so you can relax on that.”

“I’d appreciate a grandchild in a few years, Erind dear.”

“Not happening, Mom.” Zero maternal instincts inside me. What would even happen if an Adumbrae gave birth? I doubted the child would be human.

“A girlfriend wouldn’t result in pregnancy,” Deen said as she scratched my skin with her toenails. A bit ticklish.

“That is… if I swing that way,” I said, trying to bat away her foot without hitting the table’s legs. “Which I don’t.”

Deen smirked. “Oh, really?”

“Is there something I don’t know about?” Mom’s eyes flicked between Deen and me. “Erind, you can tell me if you’re gay.”

I snorted on my food. “It’s not that, Mom. I’m straight.”

“That remains to be seen…” Deen said in a sing-song way.

“It’s a joke between us, Mom,” I clarified before she could pry more. As to her actual question, I wasn’t sure anymore if I was straight. Nor did I care. “Deen wonders a lot if I didn’t like guys because I don’t have any boyfriends in law school while she has a bazillion.”

“I don’t have any boyfriend right now,” said Deen. “Anyway, I still can’t believe you had an exciting love life. Maybe you can share some tips?” She rested her foot on my lap.

“You don’t need tips. And I don’t know why guys like me.”

Mom tapped her temple. “My theory is that Erind triggers the protective side of boys.”

That’s not it, Mom, I quipped mentally. How could I trigger anything if guys couldn’t notice me in the first place because of my societal camouflage skills? My default face was a timid, subdued, blending-in-the-background type of girl. I was basically the tree in school plays. Even when I was a cheerleader, I was almost invisible. In some routines, I bet the audience wondered why my squad mates were flying in the air without anyone tossing them up.

Guys noticed me only if I wanted them to. I gathered their notice if I had a scheme up my sleeve. Back in high school, my scheme would be just being a petty bitch to this or that other bitch who unintentionally offended me. And given it was high school, revenge came in the form of stealing boyfriends, which was the reason I became a cheerleader.

“Many animals, especially those in herds, have an instinct to protect their young,” said Mom.

“Mom, don’t go Animal Channel on me,” I groaned.

“Various animals, bison, elephants, and even whales form protective circles around their young. Humans are social creatures, so we also have an innate instinct to make sure the next generation lives on.”

“I’m not a “next generation” calf. And I definitely don’t need any protection.”

Mom cupped her hand around her mouth as she talked to Deen, but her whisper was still loud enough for me to hear. “My little Erind is so cute that guys just want to protect her.”

“I understand that, Mrs. Hartwell,” said Deen, giggling. “Sometimes, when I look at Erind, there’s this strong urge to just hug her. She looks like a very delicate doll that needs protecting.”

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I rolled my eyes. My weirdo best friend was flaunting her fetish right in front of Mom. She also restarted her degenerate business under the table. She had scooted a couple of inches down her chair to have more reach. I managed to trap her stupid foot between my thighs.

Deen paused. Thankfully, she had the restraint to not wiggle around much and risk getting noticed by Mom.

“I’m glad my Erind dear found a friend like you, Amber,” Mom said. “She might need a pointer or to get a man now that she’s in her twenties. Her innocent charms are starting to wear off.” She and Deen laughed.

“Hey, I’m plenty innocent-looking still,” I said, chuckling with them. This was a nice dinner, quite relaxing and normal, minus the molestation attempts under the table. “Charming too.”

“I agree with, Erind, Mrs. Hartwell.” Deen was back at it. She now used both feet to pry open my legs.

I scowled at her as a warning. The table shook a bit. Mom didn’t notice. Deen wouldn’t stop with her bullshit. She smiled at me while trying to wedge her toes in between my legs.

“To tell you the truth, Amber,” said Mom, “I didn’t expect my Erind dear to have any boyfriend at all. She was very… let’s say, repellant of boys when she was a little girl.”

“Repellant? Seriously, Mom?” My left hand was under the table, clamping both of Deen’s feet.

“Why do you say that, Mrs. Hartwell?” Deen asked as she tried to retrieve her feet.

“She didn’t like boys trying to get close with her. I remember an incident where a nice boy confessed to her. It was just a playground crush. They were kids, it’s nothing serious, of course. But Erind must’ve taken offense because he hit him with a drum.”

“Hit the boy with a drum? Like in a playful way that was accidentally too strong?”

“In an intentionally strong way, Amber dear,” said Mom.

I shrugged. “We were just kids messing around. Nothing to it, Mom.”

“Maybe Erind was just surprised or ashamed,” said Deen.

“I also thought so too,” said Mom, “but their teacher didn’t see it that way. Given the injury and what Erind did…”

Deen stopped with the under-the-table assault. She leaned forward, interested in Mom’s story. “What did she do, Mrs. Hartwell?”

“Erind held the drum by its strap. It was a toy drum fashioned like the snare drum of a marching band so it had straps. She swung it round and round like a slingshot—”

“Like a flail mace,” I supplied.

“Right, dear. Like a flail mace—that was what your teacher said. Then Erind hit the poor boy’s face.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Deen covered her mouth.

“The boy had cut lips,” Mom said. “Erind’s teacher showed me a picture. I profusely apologized to his mother and offered to pay the medical expenses, but the boy didn’t want me to. I could see that he was trying to be tough after being hit by a girl, so I talked to his mother another time and paid them.”

“Why did you hit him, Erind?” Deen asked, brushing a toe up and down my shin.

“I was just too embarrassed, I guess? Can’t really remember what I was feeling. He confessed to me while many other kids were looking at us.”

“You must’ve been as red as a strawberry back then,” Deen said. “I wished I could’ve seen you. Really cute. The hitting-the-boy part isn’t cute, but I can see it happening. I bet the other kids were teasing you, and it was a knee-jerk reaction on your part.”

“That was what probably happened. I deleted it from my memory.”

The truth was that I distinctly remembered what happened. The boy confessed to me while I was sitting by the toy cabinet at the corner of the room, observing how other kids behaved. No one overheard us. He told me that he found me pretty—I didn’t know what to think of that—and said that he wanted to be my boyfriend. I asked him what a boyfriend was supposed to do, and he answered he would protect me.

I didn’t exactly know why I’d need protecting, but I agreed on one condition. Seeing an opportunity to test stuff, I challenged him to take a hit from me. He had to be strong to protect me, I reasoned. He readily agreed, likely thinking he could take a punch from me. I was way smaller than other kids.

To be fair… to me… that dumb boy had plenty of time to run when I started swinging the drum.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Hartwell,” said Deen. “I’ll help Erind get a boyfriend. I’ll be the best wingwoman there ever was.”

“I’ll never get a boyfriend with you by my side,” I said. “All eyes will be on you.”

Laughter all around again. A predictable joke. But Mom’s happy, so that was good.

All was pretty normal. That was also good.

I liked normal stuff. Moments of peace for me. I didn’t like change. And I certainly didn’t like what would be coming later.

----------------------------------------

“Wow, Deen. I didn’t know you wash dishes,” I said after we returned to my room.

Fine. Our room. Guess this bitch and I were sleeping together—in a non-sexual way if I could stop her—for the foreseeable future.

“What are you talking about? I wash dishes at my place.”

“With a dishwasher. I meant regular dishwashing using hands and a sponge. Manual labor, if you know that term.”

“Ha-ha, very funny, Erind dear.” Deen bent down to roll up the sleeping bag on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up. You won’t need this because we’re both sleeping on the bed.”

“Promise you won’t do anything to me?”

Deen stuck her tongue out. “No.”