“Well, it doesn’t really have an official name,” Mom says, dishing some of the unidentified mush from the frying pan onto a plate. “But the cook at the commune used to refer to it as hippie hash.”
Then again, maybe I’ll skip first period and hit Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to school.
“So how’d your date go?” I ask, trying not to wrinkle my nose as she puts the foul smelling scramble in front of me.
She sets another plate in front of her own spot and sits down between Sunny and me. I glance over at my sister and notice that while the food is being moved around her plate, it’s not going into her mouth.
“Great,” Mom says, her eyes shining. “We went out to the nicest restaurant. Of course, it was a steak house. He’s evidently a big steak eater. Says he loves them really rare.”
I try to catch Sunny’s eyes. See? Rare steak. The only thing vampires enjoy eating, as it’s so bloody.
“He took you to a steak house?” I ask. Mom’s a strict vegetarian, of course. Poor woman. “Didn’t you tell him you don’t eat meat? That you belong to PETA? That you think the chemicals found in cattle are mind-controlling hormones injected by the government to sedate the human race while big business goes around and trashes our world?”
“It’s okay,” Mom says, of course completely excusing her date’s major faux pas. “I just had a potato and vegetables. It was very good.”
Wow. Mom must really have a thing for this guy. She would never go to a slaughter house with just anyone. It’s going to be sad to disappoint her. Not that she’ll be disappointed when she finds out he’s a thousand years old and undead. Oh, well.
“Then what did you do?”
“He took me out to this elegant club where they had an old-fashioned band and dancing. He waltzes like a dream.”
Hm. Probably ’cause he was around when they invented the dance and has had a thousand years of practice.
“But you hate waltzing. And classical music. In fact, isn’t your saying, ‘If it’s not Jefferson Airplane, it’s crap’?”
She narrows her eyes. “Rayne, I’m an adult with a wide variety of interests. I had a good time. Don’t spoil it because you feel uncomfortable I went on a date.”
Sigh. Here she goes. Her voice sounds all tight. I knew she’d jump to that conclusion.
“I’m fine with you having a date. I just want to make sure he’s treating you right.” And doesn’t spend his days sleeping in a coffin. . . .
“Well, you don’t have to worry. He’s the perfect gentleman. You’ll see, tonight.”
“Tonight?” Sunny’s eyes and my eyes meet across the table. I’m sure mine are as wide as hers.
Mom laughs. “Yes, tonight. I invited him over for dinner. I promised I could cook him a tofu steak that’s just as delicious as one made from the slaughter of innocent animals.”
Wow. I bet the vamp is really looking forward to that! But tonight! That doesn’t give Sunny and me any time to plan. Unless . . .
I break out into a coughing fit.
“Oh, man,” I say between chokes. “I’ve had this horrible cough. Just horrible. And I don’t feel very well either.”
“But you were just—?” Sunny starts in. I kick her under the table. Hard. Her eyes light up. And her coughs start coming.
My mom looks from one hacking daughter to the other. “Are you two okay?” she asks. “It’s not the hash, is it?”
It probably would be the hash if either of us had actually shoveled any of it into our mouths, which in hindsight may have made the sickness a tad more authentic, but too late now.
“No. It’s just, I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Maybe you should stay home from school,” Mom says, looking worried. “Neither of you sound too good.”
“No, I want to go to school,” I say, pausing to slump in my chair and close my eyes. “I really hate missing school.”
“If you’re sick, you need to stay home,” Mom commands, reaching over to feel my forehead with the back of her hand. “You feel warm, Rayne.” It’s amazing what the power of suggestion can do to a parent. “You, too, Sunny,” she says, switching to my twin.
“But I love school, Mom,” Sunny whines. Gah! Overkill, much? I kick her under the table again. For someone starring in the school play, she’s not much of an actress.
“Mom’s right, Sun,” I interject, to stop her performance. “If we go to school, it might get worse. We could be contagious even. One day of rest now can save us from a weeklong absence down the road.”
Mom takes a bite of her hash and nods. “Unfortunately, I can’t stay home to take care of you guys,” she says, as if that would be something either of us would want. “I’ve got to get to work.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I say, patting her on the arm. “We’ll probably be sleeping most of the day anyway.”
“I hope so.” She rises from her seat, kisses both of us on the tops of our heads, and brings her mostly untouched plate over to the sink. Evidently this time even she didn’t like her recipe, not that she’d ever admit that to us. “There’s OJ in the fridge and some veggie burgers in the freezer if you get hungry later.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Do you think I should cancel having my friend come over?” she asks, scraping her leftovers into the compost bin. “I mean, if you two are sick . . .”