> In the news today: The Humane Society of the United States announced its intention to add protections for genetically modified cats and dogs.
“No, Mom, I won’t run away.” Stephanie crossed her arms and glared with all the determination a sixteen-year-old girl could muster.
Natalie sighed. This was an old argument. “The people next door are normal humans. They can hide you.”
“If I ran away, Yevgeny would beat you, or worse. And what happens if the neighbors call the police? Neither of us has papers. Homeland Security will deport us, and you know what that means. Even if we’re lucky, how long can you survive without a fix?”
Desperate to change her daughter’s mind, Natalie tried again. “Sweetie, this isn’t about me—”
“No, it’s about us. What about your new idea? What if it works?”
The new idea had started as a joke. Something a frightened mom used to tease her daughter and lighten their mood. Natalie should have known better, and now her headstrong daughter wanted to try it. Sighing, Natalie peeked through the kitchen window again. The boy was still outside. Despite his gender, he probably wasn’t a monster.
Ignoring the resolve in her daughter’s eyes, Natalie tried one last time. “Are you sure?”
“It’s the best option we have. Besides, I’ve learned everything you can teach me. This will be my field test.”
So much confidence from a young woman who couldn’t possibly understand what she was up against. “Well, at least he’s cute. Promise me you’ll remember your limits.”
“I promise.” Stephanie embraced her mother, then reached for the door.
***
If there was a form of misery more profound than that of a lonely fifteen-year-old boy, Jason Todd Thomas had never experienced it. His life had effectively ended the day his family moved to this new house. All his hard-won friendships were things of the past. When school started, he’d be the new kid, and the bullies would circle like sharks.
Complaining to Mom was a waste of time. In Mom’s universe, nothing cured teenage blues better than a long list of chores.
He considered sneaking from his bedroom down to the family room. He and Dad had installed a new game console. If Mom spotted him, though, she’d have him cleaning the garage.
“Master Jason?” The voice came from the wall-mounted com panel. One of the few cool things with the new house was the state-of-the-art household AI. Dad had installed a British butler personality and named it “Alfred.” That was fine, but Jason would have preferred a cool name like “Angel of Death.”
“Yes, Alfred?”
“Your mother requests your presence in the kitchen.”
“Crap,” Jason grumbled. She probably had another pile of boxes for him to move.
“Never fear, Master Jason. If your mother assigns you another task, I shall entertain you with stories of my time in darkest Africa.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Jason muttered and left the room. The darned AI acted as though it were alive.
Mom waited in the kitchen, but instead of handing him a bucket and mop, she offered him a glass of lemonade. “I think,” she said,” you’re still missing your friends.”
He didn’t answer ՚cause it might be a trick, but Mom’s lemonade was the best. Jason took the glass.
Mom smiled and said, “I know just the thing to cheer you up.”
Jason sighed. The lemonade had been too good to be true. “What do you want me to clean?”
“Poor Jason,” Mom ruffled his hair. “Take today off. Go outside and enjoy that expensive deck your father wanted.”
Every so often, Mom surprised the heck out of him.
Once outside on Dad’s deck, Jason carefully angled the patio table awning to provide maximum shade and settled in to read.
The lemonade was long gone when an odd sound, like the click of a metal latch, startled him. Jason glanced up to see the gate between his and the neighboring yard swing open. A girl, about his age, with shoulder-length, dark red hair, stepped into view. She wore a denim skirt, sneakers, and a plain sleeveless top.
Their eyes met. The girl waved and said, “Hi.”
Jason couldn’t believe it. Pretty girls rarely noticed him. It wasn’t a coincidence a “friend” nicknamed him Nerd Boy the Untouchable. Not for the first time, Jason wished he were a player. If there were ever a time for confidence and a witty reply, it was now. Summoning every shred of cool composure, Jason stood and accidentally knocked his chair back, where it tipped over and fell with a clatter.
The girl’s smile deepened, and he feared she’d burst into laughter. Surprisingly, she didn’t.
Red-faced, Jason held up an index finger, hoping she’d give him a minute while he righted the chair. When he turned back, she was still there, but her brow was tight with concern. “Hi,” he said, “sorry about knocking the chair over.”
She said, “Do you have coordination problems?”
Oh, heck, this was going downhill in a hurry. “No, no, nothing like that, it’s just you startled me.” If she sneered and vanished back into the neighboring yard, he wouldn’t blame her one bit. “Watch.” Jason took two steps, vaulted the deck railing, and plummeted to the ground. Fortunately, he stuck the landing.
“Well done!” The girl said with a laugh.
The kitchen door swung open, and his mother stormed out. She must have had Alfred snooping on him again. “Jason, what are you thinking? We have stairs.” Then Mom noticed the girl and immediately switched gears. “Who’s your friend, Jason?”
“Hi,” the girl answered Mom’s question. “I’m Stephanie.” She gestured back towards the gate. “Mom and I moved in last week.”
“Hello, Stephanie,” Mom said, “I’m Shirley Thomas. We moved in a few weeks before you. Daredevil Jason,” she pointed, “usually has more sense, but he misses his friends.”
“Mom?” It took all of Jason’s willpower to keep from screaming. He forced a smile instead. “Could you stop talking, please?”
Stephanie covered her mouth, but it didn’t hide her grin.
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Knievel,” Mom shook her head and stomped back inside.
After the patio door closed, Stephanie asked, “Who’s Mr. Knievel?”
Jason turned back to his new neighbor and shrugged. With most of his surprise worn off, he noticed her eyes were an unusual pale green. “I don’t know,” he said. His eyes, all on their own, drifted towards her chest. Then he caught himself. Don’t be a creep. “Mom turned forty a while ago, and her mind is going.”
“Yeah, my mom drives me bonkers too. It was her idea for me to meet you.”
“Oh,” he tried not to let his disappointment show. The rational part of his mind rationalized it for him. What did you expect, nerd boy?
“Wow,” she said, “for a second there, you looked upset.” Instead of sarcasm, there was honest interest in her voice.
“Well, I’d hoped you’d come over on your own. Not ՚cause someone forced you.”
That set Stephanie to staring as if he’d grown horns. She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. Darn, but it made her even cuter. “I think,” she said, “you meant that.”
Now it was his turn to think. It wasn’t easy because his eyes kept wandering to places they shouldn’t. “Look, if you don’t want to hang out with me, you don’t have to.”
A light breeze played with Stephanie’s hair. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. She tucked that bit of hair back behind her ear. “You want us to hang out, but only if I’d like to?”
Why did she look so surprised? “Yeah, that’s what I said.” He shrugged.
“Okay,” she said.
And that was all it took? Surprised, Jason gestured for Stephanie to precede him. Not that he didn’t want to watch her walk up the deck’s wooden stairs.
“Want something to drink?” he asked, “Mom makes the best lemonade.”
“Can I have some without sugar?”
“Sure, but hold on, I almost forgot to introduce you.” Turning toward an outside camera, Jason called out, “Alfred?”
“Yes, Master Jason?” Alfred’s voice, in his best South-London accent, came from the attached speaker.
“Say hello to Stephanie. She’s,” he turned back to the girl and winked, “she’s a friend.”
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“Hello, Miss Stephanie. I must say, Master Jason has a remarkable taste in friends.”
“Jason,” Stephanie gripped his arm, “who’s Alfred?”
“Alfred is our household AI. Now that he knows you, it’ll be easier the next time you visit.”
Stephanie smiled and waved toward the camera. “Hello Alfred, it’s nice to meet you too.”
Jason’s mother stood next to the sink, running lemons through the juicer. A pitcher of ice water stood at the ready. “Oh,” she said, “it’s Evel Knievel and friend. Pull up some stools, and I’ll pour you some lemonade.”
Jason pulled two stools out. “Stephanie wants hers without sugar.”
“No problem,” Mom replied, then turned to their guest. “Watching your figure?”
“Not really, Mom and I just prefer tart or bitter flavors.”
After sitting, Stephanie’s head swiveled back and forth, taking everything in. “You have a beautiful kitchen, Mrs. Thomas.”
“Thank you, Stephanie. Here’s your lemonade.”
“Thank you.”
Jason took his glass and added a heaping spoonful of sugar. On the other side of the counter, Stephanie sipped her lemonade.
Mom made a small glass for herself, without sugar, and took a sip. Then she stole Jason’s spoon and added sugar to her glass. “Are you and Jason in the same grade?”
“I’m homeschooled. Mom doesn’t worry about grade levels.”
“How old are you then?”
“Sixteen.”
“What a coincidence. Jason turns sixteen in just a few weeks. This fall, he’ll be in the eleventh grade. Do you have your driver’s license?”
Stephanie shook her head. “No, my father won’t allow it.”
“Oh?” Mom gave Jason a sideways glance. She turned back to Stephanie, “Does your mother work?”
“She’s my father’s personal assistant.”
“Well, ask your mother to call or come over for a cup of tea sometime.” Mom finished her drink and stood. “I’m going shopping. You two should go out on the deck.”
Lemonades in hand, Jason and Stephanie took seats at the patio table. His tablet computer still displayed the last page he’d read.
“Can I ask you a question?” Stephanie asked. “How many girlfriends do you have?”
What the heck? Did she think he was popular or something? “I don’t have any girlfriends right now. Although,” Jason leaned back and attempted to look confident, “I am accepting applications.” He smiled crookedly, expecting her to get the joke. In the driveway, Mom beeped her minivan’s horn and drove away.
Stephanie may or may not have gotten the joke. In either case, she asked seriously, “What kind of girl are you looking for?”
Continuing the joke, he kept his voice serious. “Well, my perfect girlfriend would have to be pretty; I mean at least as pretty as you, with red hair and freckles. Oh, and she’d have to have beautiful eyes.” Jason leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “Just like yours. What color are they?”
Stephanie leaned forward with her elbows on the table. The way she sat projected thoughtful confidence. “Mom says my eyes are peridot.”
Last year’s science class covered gemstones. Interested in the subject, Jason had spent some extra time reading. Peridots varied from dark olive to a pale, translucent green. This close, Stephanie’s eye color stood out. “Like the gemstone?” he asked.
“Um-hmm. Just like it.”
“Well, I’ll add peridot eyes to my list. Along with intelligence, my ideal girlfriend has to be smart.”
“Ah-ha!” she pounced. “Why do you think I’m smart?” Then Stephanie blushed and sat back.
She’d given him a perfect opportunity to tease her. But they both knew who he’d been talking about. Better to have it out in the open. “It’s your eyes. You pay attention to everything going on around you.”
“Still,” she said, “I’d think boys cared more about boobs than brains.”
Their brief trip inside for drinks had calmed him down, but Stephanie’s use of the “B” word threatened to start him sweating again. He decided to play innocent. “What do you mean?”
Now, those peridot green eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’ve stared at mine enough.” Her gaze flicked up to his hairline. “Uh oh, it looks like you’re sweating again.”
A fatal crash and burn seemed likely, but… “Just because I like your boobs, it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your brains.”
Instead of taking offense, Stephanie merely nodded. He’d seen Mom nod the same way when checking off items on a shopping list. She said, “What else are you looking for?”
Sweat trickled down his cheek. She had to be playing with him. A giant ball of flaming death seemed an all too certain future. “Since we’re being honest,” he paused, and she nodded. “I think you should apply.”
“Since we’re being honest, I’ll consider it.” Then she laughed. “You aren’t anything like I expected.”
“What did you expect? Remember,” he lifted a finger, “we’re being honest.”
“I thought you’d be a jerk like my father, but instead, you’re goofy and nice and…and cute.” The last part she added with flushed cheeks.
Cute and nice sounded fantastic but goofy? Jason pictured the floppy-eared, hat-wearing cartoon dog. Then he looked at Stephanie. Instead of treating him like nerd boy, the untouchable, this gorgeous girl thought he was cute. Call me Goofy. Jason smiled and said, “Woof!”
Stephanie laughed again and shook her head.
“Hey,” Jason said, “do you want to come to my birthday party?”
“Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just yourself, and maybe a kiss for the birthday boy?”
***
When Stephanie left to meet the boy next door, Natalie had expected her back home in an hour or less. Instead, the girl stayed the entire afternoon. Every time Natalie checked, the two teens were deep in conversation. And it wasn’t just the boy talking—like all men do—he’d spent a lot of time nodding to whatever Stephanie had to say. It wasn’t natural.
If that wasn’t enough to drive a mother crazy, the boy had even walked Stephanie home! Compounding the insanity, once inside the house, her daughter ran to a window and peeked around the curtain to watch the boy leave.
Well, enough was enough. Natalie cleared her throat and said, “For a girl who pretended she didn’t like him, you spent a lot of time over there.”
Stephanie turned, and her wide grin told Natalie all she needed to know. “Oh, Mom, Jason isn’t anything like Yevgeny.”
“You didn’t do anything off-limits, did you?” Stepping over to the sink, Natalie filled the cast-iron teapot. That boy had acquired a name, and Natalie didn’t like that either.
“No, I promised, didn’t I. Besides, it never came up. We had too much fun flirting like in the movies. Was it the same for you with Yevgeny or Pavlo?”
“Maybe with Pavlo, but that was over twenty years ago. Those days are difficult to remember.”
***
The following day, Jason mowed the grass. While guiding the semi-autonomous machine, his mind was awhirl with visions of flashing green eyes. Last night, he used his tablet to research eye colors. It turned out that Stephanie’s peridot eyes were an impossibility. Heck, he didn’t need the internet to tell him she was special. On his second circuit, he spotted Stephanie waiting at the gate between their yards. Like yesterday, she wore a skirt and T-shirt.
“Hey,” he said while the walk-behind mower whined to a stop.
“Hey,” she replied. “Mom wanted me to ask if you could cut our grass sometime.”
“I’ll do it as soon as I finish here.”
“Thanks. I’ll wait and we can hang out again.” Stephanie turned and headed back to her house. Watching her skirt sway made his pulse race. At the foot of her porch steps, she paused and glanced back. Then, pink-cheeked, she ran inside.
With both yards mowed, Jason worked the perimeters with a string trimmer. The sun beat down, and he’d long since removed his shirt. Around the back of Stephanie’s house, she sat waiting om the porch steps. “I’m finished,” he announced.
“I have ice water if you’re thirsty,” she held up a glass.
Jason set the trimmer down and took the glass. The roof over her back porch cast an inviting shade, but he stunk from sweat and stepped back into the sun. The chilled water forced an involuntary shiver. “Thanks,” he said.
Tilting her head to the side, Stephanie said, “Don’t stand in the sun.” She nodded at the step next to her. “Sit.”
“I’m sweaty. It’s best if I stay downwind.”
“Don’t be silly, sit.” She patted the spot right next to her, and Jason sat.
He said, “Every time I see you, I add something new to my perfect girlfriend specifications.”
“Be careful; the more you add, the harder it gets to find the right girl.”
And she said that with a straight face. Was she teasing him deliberately? “Finding the right girl isn’t the hard part. Convincing her, I’m boyfriend material is what’s difficult.”
“What if the girl has a list too?”
Now they were getting somewhere. “What’s on your list?”
At first, he thought he’d called her bluff, and she didn’t have a list. Then in a low wistful voice, she said, “Just one thing. Don’t ever treat me like I’m your property.”
“I’d never do that. The best relationships are between equals.”
They sipped their ice water in silence until Stephanie spoke. “Still, I don’t know if we’d get along.”
If Jason hadn’t glanced her way precisely the right moment, he’d have missed it. Her knowing smile said he’d taken her bait, and all she needed to do was set the hook. Stephanie liked him too, but she wanted him to work for it. Not that he minded, he also knew how to tease.
“True,” he said, “but that’s what relationships are for. We date, get to know each other, and then I find out about your uncontrollable flatulence.”
“What? I don’t h—”
“Then, you find out I have anosmia.”
“Anosmia? What—”
“See, we’re perfect for each other. Although you’ll want to be careful around my parents, their noses work perfectly.” Jason gave Stephanie his best toothy smile.
Modern science had well-established, absolute standards. The speed of light in a vacuum is a perfect example. They needed to add a new standard: the speed of Stephanie’s mood swings.
Her cheeks went from normal to an affronted red within a second. “You rat! If anyone has uncontrollable flatulence, it’d be a stinky boy.” Turning towards him, Stephanie poked his unprotected stomach.
Jason poked back. Oh, he poked with care. Girls had zones a boy didn’t trespass without permission. Also, being weaker and naturally less aggressive, girls were more easily hurt. So, he poked with care.
Stephanie, apparently, never learned girls were weaker or less aggressive. She retaliated with speed, precision, and force. It soon took all of Jason’s high school wrestling skills to keep her from poking him into submission.
He succeeded in trapping one of her legs and hoped, desperately, that his mother wouldn’t see this. Wrestling with a girl, who wore a skirt, might give Mom the wrong idea. While he worried, Stephanie wriggled free and jabbed him with both index fingers.
Then Jason had his opening. With Stephanie’s attention on freeing her leg, she’d uncovered her left side. Instead of poking, he tickled. She stiffened, then shrieked.
Stephanie attempted to shout, but between gasping for air and laughing, all she managed was a breathless and drawn-out “stop.”
Jason continued to tickle. “Give up?” he asked.
“Never!” she replied, and…farted.
Jason let go at once. This was the part where the prettiest girl in the world called him a disgusting jerk. His hopes for a relationship would vanish, and she’d never talk to him again.
Unsure of how to fix it, he mostly kept his eyes averted while Stephanie straightened her clothes. Finally, unable to wait any longer, he broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Steph, I didn’t—”
“You’re a rat,” she interrupted, then chuckled. “I guess you’re glad you have anosmia, whatever that is.”
The need for another scientific standard came to mind, the speed of relief. Somehow, he’d lucked past the worst possible outcome, and a crazy boldness replaced his worry. In a mock-straight tone of voice, he said, “In the interests of clearing the air. I don’t really have anosmia. Which means you can’t smell anything.”
Stephanie groaned and stretched her legs. “All that and a pun; I hope you suffered.” They listened to the birds for a minute before she broke the silence. “Do you still want to hang out?” Her voice was quiet as if she’d understand if he refused.
“You’re kidding, right? I thought you’d never want to talk to me again.” He glanced to the side and caught her eyes on him. She smiled, and he smiled back. “Sure, I’ll take a quick shower and be right back.” Jason darted towards the gate, then stopped and returned for the trimmer.
All Stephanie said was, “I’ll wait for you.”
“You’re in a hurry,” Mom noted as Jason streaked through the kitchen.
“Stephanie and I are going to hang out again.”
“Oh, I thought it might be something like that. Are you still mad we made you leave all your friends behind?”
At the bottom of the stairs, Jason stopped and turned back. “Ha-ha, Mom.