With a sigh, I watched as my parents pushed into the room. Dad sat across from me in his high-backed chair and tucked a beige napkin into the collar of his shirt. Beside him, he already had his newspaper out. The man spent most of our meals absorbed in some local or national paper.
“Wow, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.” Dad swatted Mom on the butt. “You added cheese to the casserole. Smells delicious.”
Drake coughed, hiding a smirk as he scooted his chair closer to mine.
I grabbed a glass of ice water and slurped it down, hoping it’d make my throat more slick so the nasty food would slide down easier.
“You two haven’t seen my black, lacy bra, have you?” Mom scooped a too large helping of barf-loaf casserole onto my plate. “If you borrowed it that’s okay, but could you return it?” She stared at me expectantly.
My gaze fell on her watermelon sized hooters. In what lifetime did she even think I’d be able to fit into it? Well, unless I stuffed it with my soccer balls. “No—I have my own undergarments.”
“And no chest,” Drake whispered.
I kicked him under the table.
“Bruce, you didn’t shove it under the bed after the other night did you?”
“Some of us are trying to eat here.” Geez, did they think I wanted to hear about their mid-life romps in the bedroom. Can you say NO. Totally sick.
Dad grinned. “Hey, just because we’re old and have kids doesn’t mean … ”
I covered my ears. “I’m not listening. La-la-la-la.”
Mom shook her head. “Well, I’m just trying to figure out where it went. Seems like a lot of our undergarments have gone missing lately.”
“You should ask the neighbors,” I said.
Mom’s eyes widened. “Trey took it?”
With a snort, I spewed water down the front of my shirt at the thought of him sneaking into our yard. “No. I meant the other neighbors—you know Jimbo, the dog with underwear fetishes?”
“Delyla!” Dad said.
“What? He steals our stuff all the time. I mean, most people actually use a dryer now days and don’t hang their unmentionables out for everyone to see.”
“Yes, and dryers run up electricity bills,” Dad, codenamed: Frugal Father, said. “Besides, we have no proof that Jimbo is the one taking things. Maybe there’s some weird kid running around the neighborhood stealing clothes.”
Right. Because every teenager I know wants to take my parents’ undergarments. Woot-woot, bring on the tighty-whiteys and bras the size of parachutes.
After being subjected to unwanted parental talks for a half an hour, I finally managed to escape the dinner table. When I got to my room, I flicked on my light, grabbed the lists the Nerd Herd made, and plopped on my bed to read through them. My gaze darted over my dark blue walls to the poster of Javier Decorum—only the hottest professional soccer play ever. His dark eyes seemed to stare at me from the picture. Sigh. What I wouldn’t give to meet him. Sometimes, when I got bored, I pretended he was smiling at me. And the finger he pointed toward the net, was really pointing at me.
Hey, a girl can dream. I blew my poster a kiss then turned back to the papers I held.
With a grin, I scanned over Kevin’s lists of wants. Learn how to talk to girls. Maybe get a date. Better my wardrobe. Learn to dance. Okay, his weren’t too bad. The biggest thing for him, would be getting over his shyness. Next, I pulled out C.C.’s. Get to second base. Get Liza McGregor to go to prom with me. Talk to girls. See if any girls want to dress up as Princess Leia. Learn to kiss. Get the male lead for final drama club show. Make girls fall for me. Geez. No way in hell was I teaching him how to kiss anyone. And, well, the second base thing was a no go too. At last, I got to Trey’s. Learn how to talk to girls. Learn how to ask someone out. Get Portia Rickard to go on at least one date with me. Get a new look. Make something of my senior year.
My chest tightened. Okay, so Trey’s surprised me the most. He’d never mentioned Portia before. Not that I wouldn’t help him out, but she didn’t seem like his type. He was into video games, music, environmental issues. And she was pretty. She did beauty pageants and got crowned Miss Teen Michigan or something. But she was kind of flighty and barely got average grades.
And why should I care who he wants to date?
With another sigh, I set down the lists and grabbed my notebook from my desk. I needed to write down what the boys needed to do from my perspective. And first thing on the list was C.C.’s wild afro. It had to go. Definitely needed to plan a trip to the mall for clothes. I chewed the end of my pen. They would have to attend some ‘Delyla classes on conversing with the opposite sex.’
My light blue curtains billowed as a gust of wind blew through the screen, carrying with it the scent of Lilac. Just then, I heard: woof-woof-woof. Followed by loud howls.
Jimbo was on the loose again. Irritated, I slammed my notebook shut and marched over to my window, just in time to see him grabbing something from our clothesline.
I shielded my eyes. “No. Drop that.” Son of a … he had my new thong. With my fists clenched, I raced down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. Soon, I burst outside.
“Drop that. Now,” I shouted.
My bare feet sank into the thick grass as I ran into the backyard.
“What’s going on?” Trey said, setting a bag of trash into his garbage bin.
“He’s got my—some of my clothes.”
Jimbo got down on his haunches and shook his head back and forth like a rabid beast.
Trey moved in behind him. “Okay, I’ll come from the back and try to grab him, while you come in from the front.”
“Okay.”
“On the count of three,” he said. “One. Two … ”
The dog leapt up and raced to the side, causing me and Trey to ram into each other.
My head clunked into his. “Damn it.”
“That mutt is way too smart for his own good.” He rubbed his forehead and reached down to help me up. His warm fingers closed around mine.
“I think we need a better plan.” I eyed the monster dog, who laid down next to the large maple in our backyard. He gave me a puppy grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Got a net?” he said.
“Right, because dog catcher is my after school job.”
Trey moved slowly toward Jimbo. “Hey, big guy. Come here so I can pet you.”
“He’s not gonna fall for that.” I rolled my eyes.
But the dog’s ears perked up. With my thong hanging out of his mouth, he loped over to Trey, who snatched my undergarments from him. He then reached out and scratched Jimbo behind the ears.
“Good boy,” he said.
“Good? He’s not good.”
“Don’t listen to her, boy.”
A second later, the dog lifted his leg and a stream of pee sprayed over Trey’s bare feet like a K-9 sprinkler system.
I burst out laughing. “Oh. My. God. That was epic. See—I told you.”
“Dang it, Jimbo.” Trey’s face scrunched up in disgust. He held his leg out to the side to try and shake it off.
The pooch gave another doggy grin then trotted back into his own yard.
“You want to use our hose to wash off?” Tears streamed down my face as I tried to compose myself.