“I’ll be down in a sec, I just need to find the keys first. Go wait in the car for me,” he says, calmly.
“Wait, where’s your–” I was about to ask where his dad was, but he was already gone. I do as he told me to and make my way back to the car, feeling worried, but I don’t understand why.
“Hey, where’s Zander?” Mom asks as I slide into the back seat, alone.
“He’ll be out in a sec, he said he just needs to find the key,” I’m speaking to her, but watching for movement at the door.
“Hm. Is his dad not home?”
“I dunno, he didn’t say.” Just as she opens her mouth to reply, the car door opens and Zander slides in. He’s out of breath but wearing my favourite smile.
“Hey, Miss James. Thanks for picking me up.”
“No problem, honey. Julian said you needed to find the key. Is your dad not home?” Mom replies, moving the car away from the curb, but eyeing him through the mirror.
“Oh, yeah, he’s home. He’s still asleep, though. I don’t think he’s feeling too well, flu or somethin’,” Zander shrugs it off.
“Have you had any breakfast?”
“Umm, n-no. But it’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”
“Nonsense, breakfast is the most important meal of the day for young men like you two. What do you say we go to the cafe, Jules?” Her use of my nickname makes me cringe. I was hoping she wouldn’t call me it in front of him; it sounds so girly and silly.
“Yeah, sounds good.” I keep my eyes down, but I can feel Zander staring straight at me. There's a tug on the sleeve of my jacket, then another. Don’t look at him.He pulls harder this time, and before I have a chance to pull my arm back, he grabs my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. My eyes instantly find his across the car, and I’m met with the gentle smile I’ve never seen him use with anyone else.
“Better?” He asks, quietly. I don’t answer; I just look at where our hands lie on the seat between us and smile.
We ordered a selection of everything from the breakfast menu at the cafe. Zander wouldn’t admit he was hungry, even though we could all hear his tummy gurgling at the smell of freshlycooked bacon. We talked about school as we dug into the feast in front of us. We all used our fingers to pick up bits of food, even Mom; it was the best morningever.We scooted out of the little booth, ready to leave, when Mom looked down at Zander’s shoes– He was wearing the same as me, one of his, and one of mine.
“Jules told me that you gave him one of your shoes so he could run as fast as you. You’re such a smart and kind young man. Your father must be so proud of you.” She gave the top of his arm a gentle and reassuring squeeze, and I could swear I saw something like pain flash across his face. But as quickly as it came, it was gone again; maybe I imagined it. Zander didn’t say anything in return; he just gave her a small smile, nodded his head, and looked at his feet.
“I only have one rule for you two, but it’s very important, so I want you to listen carefully, okay?” We skid to a stop in the hallway, our socks sliding along the hardwood floor, and our arms waving for balance.
“I promise we won’t be too loud–” I say, turning toward the stairs again.
“Ah! That’s not what I was going to say.”Come onnnnn, I wanna show Zander my room!
“Mommm,” I whine. She laughs and shakes her head, crouching so she’s now shorter than both of us.
“Okay, are your ears open?” She looks at me, then at Zander, waiting for a sign that we heard her. My body is bouncing on the spot, needing her to speed it along.
“Yes, Miss James,” Zander replies politely.
“Yes, Mom,” I tell myself not to roll my eyes, because I know it’s really rude.
“Right then. The rule I have is extremely important. If you don’t obey the rule, then I’m afraid there can be no more sleepovers…”Oh, this is serious.
“My one and only rule is… You have to have the most fun you can!” I can’t help but throw my arms around her neck and squeeze tight, as we tumble to the floor laughing. She’s the best Mom in the whole world, and suddenly, the nickname doesn’t matter anymore.
“Your Mom is the coolest, like, ever,” Zander says, as we reach my bedroom.
“Yeah, she is. She thinks you’re cool, too.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why would she think I’m cool?” He asks in a way that tells me he thinks he’s anything but.
