by Vi Lily
It’s been the ongoing joke with us all week, comparing the times our parents have gone missing. It’s funny and a joke, but it’s also really strange how often it happens that they’re gone at the same time.
I still have no clue where my father disappears to so often. My mom seems clueless too. But that sadness that was clinging to her seems to have turned to anger.
“Nope, he’s been gone all afternoon,” I say quietly, not wanting my mom to hear. Since Fridays are half-days for the school, I know dad has been gone at least since one, when I got home.
“My mom took off at one-thirty. Just sayin’,” he repeats, “those two — “
“Oh, hi Mom!” I interrupt with too much volume and excitement when I see her walking toward us, but I don’t want her to hear whatever joke Ben had been about to make.
So far, he’s joked that my dad and his mom are star-crossed lovers who are going to leave their spouses and run off and get married, then Ben and I will be siblings who will be destined to stare at each other longingly across the baked ham at holiday meals.
Then he decided that maybe our parents are actually spies on the last legs of a decades’ long mission, ready to topple the U.S. government, hence the reason my dad had us move across the country, so he’d be closer for an escape to Europe with his mom.
Honestly, the last one sounds more plausible.
“This is Benjamin Penn,” I tell Mom, using his full name, because I still can’t say “Ben Penn” without giggling.
Ben sticks out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hanson.”
Wow. Guy has great manners, I have to admit.
My mom smiles warmly up at Ben as they shake hands. I notice that he barely grips her hand. With the bear paws he has, he could easily crush every bone in her hand.
“Just Nadine,” she tells him. “You all are practically adults; no need to be formal.” Then she cocks a head as she eyeballs Ben from head to toe.
“Um, exactly how old are you, Ben?”
Ben and I both laugh. He definitely looks a lot older than a teenager, especially with his height and build, not to mention his perpetual five o’clock shadow.
“I’m seventeen. Eighteen in March.”
I’m surprised to hear that; most juniors are sixteen, maybe turning seventeen during their junior year. I wonder if he’d been held back at some point, or, like me, had a mother who actually “forgot” to register their children for kindergarten until they were already six.
I’m pretty sure she just didn’t want to deal with us being in school — having to get up at a certain time, get us ready and out the door, making sure we had supplies and lunches. All that was probably just too much effort for her.
Too much effort for me, anyway. I think she didn’t want to put Rod in school just because she wanted him around all the time. I know it sounds like a case of bitter sibling rivalry, but really, Mom has always played favorites from the second Rod was born. She always doted on him. Mama’s little boy.
In fact, once Rod had to start school just because it was the law, Mom had taken a job as a cafeteria lady at his — well, our — school so she could be close to him. She would embarrass him nearly every day by calling out to him, making him a special tray of the best food, even giving him an extra dessert.
I’m surprised she never got called out for it.
Me? She totally ignored my presence, like she was embarrassed of me. In fact, at my parent-teacher conferences, my teachers were always shocked to find out that “Ms. Nadine” was my mother. They only knew her as “Rod’s mom.”
Mom interrupts my thoughts when she grins at Ben. “That means Beth is older than you. Her birthday is Valentine’s Day.”
I groan when she mentions that, even though I’m sort of surprised she even remembers. My birthday day has always been embarrassing. I’ve been called “Cupid” nearly all my life. I’ve never had a birthday party, but my mom would sometimes get me a cake and have “Happy Birthday Beth” written on it. Always a Valentine cake, though.
Ben’s gorgeous eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins down at me. “Is that so? Well, we’ll have to see about making it an extra special day then.”
I smirk at the fact that he’s assuming we’ll still be talking a month from now, much less still be together. We haven’t even officially begun our first date. But I also hope he’s right. I’m pretty sure a Valentine’s birthday as Ben’s girlfriend would be… amazing.
Mom invites Ben to the kitchen for a snack. I roll my eyes.
“Mom, we’re going on a date, as in dinner?”
She laughs and looks embarrassed. I feel bad then, realizing that when I leave with Ben, she’ll be alone since Dad’s missing again and Rod’s at a friend’s.
“Um, we shouldn’t be out too late… we might come back and watch a movie here?” I say it as a question while I look up at Ben.
I have no clue why I always try to make my mother happy. I’m pretty sure I’ll never earn her love, but I keep trying. I’m pathetic that way.
He nods. “Sounds good. Like I said, I didn’t want to be out too late since the roads get icy pretty early.”
Mom frowns. “But if you stay and watch a movie, then you’ll still be driving on the icy roads.”
Ben gives her one of his squinty grins, dimples and all. I swear, my mom’s eyes widen, and I’m pretty sure she’s holding her breath. Yeah, the guy has that much effect on the female population, no matter their age.
“I only live like two blocks away,” he reassures her. “And I’m driving a Jeep with studded snow tires, so no worries.”
Mom recovers from her Ben-induced brain fog long enough to wish us a good time and to remind me to wear my “warm coat,” like that’s something I’m somehow going to forget, especially considering just opening the front door means being greeted with a blast of arctic air.
The short walk to the driveway has me shivering by the time Ben puts me in his Jeep. And yeah, I’m embarrassed to say that he actually has to put me in the Jeep, because the freaking thing is so tall. On my own, I would have had to launch myself onto the floorboard, then climb up into the seat. He pats my head when he’s done, then laughs at my scowl.
“Buckle up, Tink,” he says as he closes the door.
I had assumed we were going to the one and only pizza place I’d seen in our little town so far, the chain one near the mall. But instead, he drives us to Clemens, the next town over. It’s only a thirty-minute drive, but it’s on a two-lane highway, and I can see why he doesn’t want to be out too late. I doubt the snowplows or sander trucks go that way too often.
The small restaurant is packed with people, many standing around waiting for tables. Ben surprises me when he walks past the hostess station like he owns the place. The hostess grins and says, “Hey Ben,” then shoots a dirty look at me.
I resist the urge to flip her off. Barely.
He leads us to a table in the back corner. We shrug our coats off and hang them on pegs along the wall near the table.
“You a VIP here or something?” I ask as I take my seat, noticing there are already glasses with ice water placed on the table.
Ben grins at me. “Something like that.”
“Let me guess,” I smirk, “this place is owned by the Russian mafia and since your mom and my dad are secret spies, we get special treatment?”
“Italian mafia,” a deep voice laughs behind me and I turn to see a very handsome man walking up behind me. He looks an awful lot like an older, smaller, less-hot, lighter-colored version of Ben. Good-looking, for sure, but not gorgeous.
“This is my brother, Glen,” Ben tells me.
I laugh, embarrassed for having my “spy” theory comment overheard. But then something occurs to me. I look at Ben, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I feel a bit of a blush coming on over the attention.
“Do all your siblings’ names rhyme with Penn?”
“Dad and Mom too,” Glen answers for him as he hands me a menu. Apparently, he’
s a waiter here, which explains the table that was waiting for us.
He grins at me. “That’s where it started. Ken Penn from Wooster, Ohio, married Jen Alesana from Salelologa, Samoa and now we have Glen, Ben and Gwen. They had to stop having kids, cuz they ran outta rhyming names.”
I grin back as I watch him pull out the extra chair at our table and turn it toward me before sitting.
“There’s still Ren, Brynn, Len—”
Glen holds up his hand to stop me. “Please, do not throw that out into the universe, cuz it’s a good bet Mom will get it in her head to procreate yet again.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at his brother.
“One obnoxious baby brother is enough, thank you.” He shudders, and I laugh.
“Just be glad they didn’t make puns out of your names,” I tell him. “Like ‘Pig Penn’ or ‘Bull Penn’.”
Glen grins big at me. “Our lovely hunchback sister, Miss Shape Penn,” he adds.
I laugh. “And let’s not forget Play Penn. She never takes anything seriously. Oh, and the smartest sibling, Sharp Penn.”
He howls at that and I see even Ben smirk. He doesn’t look happy at all, but he does give me a small smile that says, I really like you, but I’m going to stab my brother with a fork.
Glen seems to know that, because he winks at me. “Let me introduce you to my brother, Damp Penn. He’s a bit of a wet blanket.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder again at Ben, who is now glaring at Glen, but since he’s turned in my direction, he misses it.
My lips twitch and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
Glen props his chin on his hand and leans closer to me, then bats his eyes comically. I notice that they’re a light color I can’t quite distinguish, but they definitely aren’t Ben’s unusual color. I laugh again at his antics.
“Gorgeous woman with a great sense of humor, and obviously intelligent. Mind telling me why you’re wasting your time with this loser?” He jerks his head toward Ben without taking his eyes off me.
“With me, you’d get the Penn looks plus money.”
I feel my cheeks flame yet again and I’m glad for the darkness of the restaurant. Ben growls at his brother, reminding me of the way he defended me my first day in the dining room.
“Knock it off, jerk. This is Beth Hanson. My girlfriend,” Ben states. I jerk my eyes to him as both my eyebrows rise. He isn’t looking at me though; he’s still trying to glare a hole into the back of his brother’s head.
Glen cocks an eyebrow at me and then finally looks back at Ben. “Girlfriend, eh? Well judging from Beth’s reaction to that announcement, I would say that’s news to her.”
Okay, so the restaurant is dark, and I had assumed that the guys couldn’t see my blush before, but watching the way Ben’s cheeks darken then, I realize I was wrong.
Dammit.
Glen leans back and turns to pat his brother on the back. “I’ll let you two lovebirds enjoy your date,” he says as he stands and pushes the chair back in. He looks back at me, then takes my hand and kisses the back of it like I’m some sort of royalty. He winks when I giggle.
“It was very nice meeting you, beautiful Beth.”
Ben glares one last time at his brother and then looks back at me. He clears his throat. “Sorry ‘bout that. Glen thinks he’s a comedian and he gets that flirty stuff from our mom.”
I wave and take a sip of my water. “He’s fine. I wasn’t upset. He’s pretty funny, actually.”
Ben shrugs and is quiet for a moment. Then he clears his throat again. “Uh, about that girlfriend comment—”
He’s interrupted when a waitress steps up to the table. “Hi Ben,” she says as breathlessly as I had earlier. Something about this guy makes all us females channel Marilyn Monroe apparently. Happy birttthhhdayyy Mr. Presidennntttt…
“Are you ready to order?”
I glance up at her, glad for the interruption. It gives me time to gather my thoughts, even though I have no clue what I want to eat. The woman is staring at Ben and doesn’t even glance my way. Ben doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s staring at me.
“Uh, go ahead,” I tell him as I quickly glance at the menu.
I suddenly realize that this is the first time I’ve gone to a restaurant without my parents since my mom got that inheritance. For once in my life, I don’t have to check the prices. The last time I’d gone out with friends had been back in Cali before GG died and that had been for burgers at In-N-Out.
Now, I don’t have to order the cheapest thing on the menu. Mom set Rod up — and surprisingly, me — with our own bank accounts and gave us debit cards. When I asked her how much was in my account, she’d laughed and said, “You could buy a house and still have some left over for cars.” Cars, not car. This coming from the woman who made us pack up our own belongings and drive a rented moving truck across country so that we could save money on a moving company.
I think Mom is starting to embrace the fact that she’s a bazillionaire.
Ben orders some sort of pizza and I settle on the lasagna. I love the stuff, but I always think my own is better. I’m not vain, but I found a great recipe in an old Italian cookbook that I tweaked a little here and there. Now, whenever I make my lasagna, everyone, even my mom, raves over it.
Never stops me from ordering it in a restaurant though; there’s always room for improvement and I’m always willing to learn from the experts.
Even though we already ordered, the waitress seems reluctant to leave. She rearranges the salt and pepper grinders, moves our silverware over a fraction of an inch, then shakes the parmesan jar, apparently to get the lumps out.
Ben glances her way. “Thanks, Shay,” he mutters before giving a jerk of his head. Thankfully, she takes the hint and walks off with a red face.
“She’s, uh, very attentive,” I drawl. “Must be wanting a good tip.”
Ben laughs as he leans on the table, like he’s going to impart some deep, dark, spy secret. My eyes travel over his arms, and I love the way his sweater stretches over the muscles. I can’t wait to see him without a shirt.
And, of course, I effing blush again at that thought.
Thankfully, Ben doesn’t mention it. “She’s dumb. She thinks I’m gonna ask her out or something, like I’m interested in twenty-five-year-old divorcees with two kids.”
I laugh with him. “You mean you’re not?”
Ben shrugs with a grin. “Not saying there’s anything wrong with that, and I’m not judging, but damn, I’m seventeen. Give me a break.”
I nod in what I hope looks like sympathy, although I’m still grinning. “You get that a lot, I bet, girls — women, even — hitting on you.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Why do you say that?”
I give him an exasperated look. “Seriously? You’re fishing for compliments?” I laugh, but he doesn’t even smile and looks confused. He can’t be that oblivious about his looks, surely.
“You know you’re gorgeous,” I mutter as I sip my water and stare at the other customers.
I can tell from my peripherals that he’s grinning, so I turn back to see his whole face lit up, which of course makes him even more beautiful.
“You think so, Tink? Thanks. Can’t hold a candle to you, though.”
I smirk, both at his comment and the nickname. “You don’t have to say that, just cuz I complimented you. I know I’m just average.”
His eyes bug. “Average? Are you crazy?” He coughs then, and his cheeks redden. “Uh, sorry. That was rude.”
I laugh. He’s too cute. “Dude, seriously, my feelings don’t get boo-booed over every little thing.”
He laughs with me. “That was the hardest thing to get used to when we moved here, how everyone takes offense at the stupidest crap. That and the… what would you call it? Like stuffiness.”
“You mean, pompous, pretentious snobbery?”
Ben barks out another laugh. “Yeah, Miz Writer, that.”
Shay interrupts when she br
ings our sodas and a basket of breadsticks. Ben waits until she walks off — thankfully without lingering this time — before speaking again.
“So, you really do wanna be a writer?”
I take a sip of my soda, then nod. “Yep. Ever since I was in fourth grade and won a writing contest, that’s been the plan. I’ve always wanted to go to Harvard, but until about six months ago, that was a far-off dream.”
“Why? What happened?” he asks as he pulls a breadstick out of the basket.
I take a breadstick too and dip it in the little bowl with the herbed olive oil. “My mom got a huge inheritance from my great-grandfather,” I shrug. “Before, I’d been working my butt off trying to save money for college and to stay at the top of my class. But now, yeah, I still want to maintain my grades, obviously, but I don’t have to work to save the money.”
Ben grins as he chews, somehow managing to keep his food from showing, which I appreciate, cuz gross. Nobody likes “see food.”
He swallows before speaking. “So, you’re like poor little rich girl, eh?”
I snort-laugh and nod, chewing. That was what Sheila called me after Mom got the inheritance. I make a mental note to text her after our date, like I promised her earlier when I told her about Ben.
He points the remainder of his breadstick at me. “That explains why you’re not stuck-up like the other chicks,” he announces before flipping the stick back over and taking another bite.
I cock my head to the side. “Well, Aleen is nice. And I have a girl in pre-calc that’s pretty nice.”
He nods. “Yeah, Aleen is new money, like you. Her dad’s a programmer who wrote some game apps that have things you can buy. People eat that stuff up, I guess.”
I had no idea about Aleen. We’d never talked about money. “Oh yeah, I have a game I play that always wants to sucker me into buying coins and stuff. Until recently, I never spent a dime on it, but in the last month, I think I spent like a hundred bucks.” I feel my face redden again at my admission.
Ben chuckles and sips his soda. “Yeah, multiply that hundred bucks by a million people playing the same game.”
