“I didn’t even remember my own recipe for pistachio encrusted pork loin.”
“Always a favorite of mine.”
“I couldn’t say pistachio. Pistachio. ”
“You did now.”
“I sounded as unintelligible as Tom, the Muppets’ Swedish Chef.”
“You did not—wait a minute. The Swedish Chef’s name was Tom ?”
“I saw it on YouTube once—it was some sort of ad lib by Danny Kaye during a skit.” Sadie slumped against the counter. “It doesn’t matter. I flopped.”
“Stop beating up my best friend, will you? You looked adorable.”
“No one who is scared to death looks adorable.”
“I did not call to argue with you.”
“Fine.” Sadie pressed her damp forefinger and middle finger to her left eye. Headache coming on. “You don’t usually call me during work hours anyway.”
“True—you don’t answer your phone.”
“I’m off-schedule.” And not likely to catch up if she kept chatting with Erik. “What do you need?”
“I wanted to see if you’d go out with me again.”
Another date? Was Erik just trying to make her feel better?
“Why?”
“The proper response is yes or no—and I sincerely hope you say yes, Sadie Jasmine.”
“A Disney princess name?”
“Jasmine happens to be a flower, too, you know.”
“Whichever—you’re still wrong.”
“Fine. I’ll keep guessing.”
“You always do.”
“Back to my question: Will you go out with me again? Please?”
She silenced the why demanding to be asked again. The first date had been fun. Just for a moment a dangerous emotion had flared, but she’d extinguished that quickly enough. And she did need to keep herself busy.
“Sure. I’ll go out with you again. What are we doing?”
“That’s a surprise. Just be comfortable—and ready for a good time.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Call Mel. She’s worried about you.”
Sadie slumped against the edge of the sink. “Mel called you?”
“Only ten times. Call her.”
“I will. I’m just so embarrassed—and I let her down.”
“Mel’s your friend—she’s on your side, Sadie. She told me she wishes she’d gone with you so she could’ve helped.”
Something between a whimper and giggle escaped Sadie’s lips. “Oh, that would have entertained the TV audience.”
“Well, at least you laughed.”
“Barely.”
“It’s a start. Now get to work. I know how you hate to be off-schedule. See you Saturday.”
How odd that Erik was asking her out when their friendship started all because she had asked him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance.
She could do this.
The middle-school hallways were filled with the sounds of students talking as they opened their lockers and slammed them shut. The overhead clock in the hallway ticked down the last five minutes before homeroom started. Guys and girls yelled hellos, laughter clogged the air, and occasionally someone yelled “Hi, Sadie” and broke her concentration.
The rules for the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance were clear: A girl could ask a guy to the dance on November 13. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t talked to Erik Davis. They were lab partners in science. Sometimes he even called her when he missed school and needed to find out about the day’s assignment.
So why was she sweating through her Just Do It Nike T-shirt?
Sadie positioned herself next to Erik’s locker. He often arrived in a rush, racing the homeroom bell, shoving his backpack into the locker, slamming the door shut with a metallic clang.
All she needed was one minute. Less, even.
And there he was, blond hair disheveled, his gray T-shirt wrinkled.
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Hey, Erik.”
“Sadie.” He manipulated the lock and swung open his locker. Shifted his backpack from his shoulder and shoved it inside. Grabbed a few books.
She gulped a breath, forced a grin. “So . . . I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with me next Friday. It’d be fun.”
Now came the yes, and they could go their separate ways and she
“Always a favorite of mine.”
“I couldn’t say pistachio. Pistachio. ”
“You did now.”
“I sounded as unintelligible as Tom, the Muppets’ Swedish Chef.”
“You did not—wait a minute. The Swedish Chef’s name was Tom ?”
“I saw it on YouTube once—it was some sort of ad lib by Danny Kaye during a skit.” Sadie slumped against the counter. “It doesn’t matter. I flopped.”
“Stop beating up my best friend, will you? You looked adorable.”
“No one who is scared to death looks adorable.”
“I did not call to argue with you.”
“Fine.” Sadie pressed her damp forefinger and middle finger to her left eye. Headache coming on. “You don’t usually call me during work hours anyway.”
“True—you don’t answer your phone.”
“I’m off-schedule.” And not likely to catch up if she kept chatting with Erik. “What do you need?”
“I wanted to see if you’d go out with me again.”
Another date? Was Erik just trying to make her feel better?
“Why?”
“The proper response is yes or no—and I sincerely hope you say yes, Sadie Jasmine.”
“A Disney princess name?”
“Jasmine happens to be a flower, too, you know.”
“Whichever—you’re still wrong.”
“Fine. I’ll keep guessing.”
“You always do.”
“Back to my question: Will you go out with me again? Please?”
She silenced the why demanding to be asked again. The first date had been fun. Just for a moment a dangerous emotion had flared, but she’d extinguished that quickly enough. And she did need to keep herself busy.
“Sure. I’ll go out with you again. What are we doing?”
“That’s a surprise. Just be comfortable—and ready for a good time.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Call Mel. She’s worried about you.”
Sadie slumped against the edge of the sink. “Mel called you?”
“Only ten times. Call her.”
“I will. I’m just so embarrassed—and I let her down.”
“Mel’s your friend—she’s on your side, Sadie. She told me she wishes she’d gone with you so she could’ve helped.”
Something between a whimper and giggle escaped Sadie’s lips. “Oh, that would have entertained the TV audience.”
“Well, at least you laughed.”
“Barely.”
“It’s a start. Now get to work. I know how you hate to be off-schedule. See you Saturday.”
How odd that Erik was asking her out when their friendship started all because she had asked him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance.
She could do this.
The middle-school hallways were filled with the sounds of students talking as they opened their lockers and slammed them shut. The overhead clock in the hallway ticked down the last five minutes before homeroom started. Guys and girls yelled hellos, laughter clogged the air, and occasionally someone yelled “Hi, Sadie” and broke her concentration.
The rules for the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance were clear: A girl could ask a guy to the dance on November 13. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t talked to Erik Davis. They were lab partners in science. Sometimes he even called her when he missed school and needed to find out about the day’s assignment.
So why was she sweating through her Just Do It Nike T-shirt?
Sadie positioned herself next to Erik’s locker. He often arrived in a rush, racing the homeroom bell, shoving his backpack into the locker, slamming the door shut with a metallic clang.
All she needed was one minute. Less, even.
And there he was, blond hair disheveled, his gray T-shirt wrinkled.
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Hey, Erik.”
“Sadie.” He manipulated the lock and swung open his locker. Shifted his backpack from his shoulder and shoved it inside. Grabbed a few books.
She gulped a breath, forced a grin. “So . . . I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with me next Friday. It’d be fun.”
Now came the yes, and they could go their separate ways and she
Similar Books
