and has captured the mouse. Although the cat is strapping sticks of dynamite to the bound mouse, Mari is certain this will not turn out well for the cat.
In that moment, Mari decides to cancel Magic tonight. She sends a text out to the group, drawing her attention away from the episode’s foregone conclusion.
Her phone chirps with a reply from Dante:
no problem. everything alright?
In her reply she lies that everything is all right.
The next text is from Archie:
it’s cool. i’ve got a lot to do tonight
.
Then her phone falls silent. Nothing from Sam. Nothing from Sarah.
A moment later, it chirps with another message from Archie:
hey, want to hang out tomorrow . . . just the two of us . . . ?
She wonders if it is a joke.
Does he like her?
Mari doesn’t know how to respond to the strange request so she just doesn’t. She sets her phone down and turns her attention back to the TV. But the screen is now blank. Her brother and Macadamia have left.
• • •
Mari runs her hands along the surface of the tomato’s skin as the water washes over it. Setting it aside, she cleans two more and then pulls out a cutting board.
Mari’s mom is next to her, quartering raw chicken. Macadamia sniffs around their feet, scavenging for dropped food. The annoying voices of sports announcers spill over from the living room TV. Video game explosions rumble through the ceiling from her brothers’ room upstairs.
Her mom brings the butcher’s knife down with a heavy
thunk
.
Mari sets to dicing the tomatoes.
Her mom looks over. “Still upset about your friends cancelling another game night?”
“Of course.” Mari fails to mention that she cancelled it because she doesn’t know how much time she has left with her mom. Why waste it playing some pointless game with friends whose fictional characters she knows better than the people behind them?
Her mom smiles. “Well, some things are just out of your control. But it’s nice to have you help me in the kitchen. Those boys of ours are useless.”
Mari shrugs. “It does seem to be a trait of the gender.”
Her mom finishes with the chicken, pushes it aside, and washes her hands in the sink. She begins opening cabinets and pulls out a few bottles of spices. After setting them out on the counter, she examines Mari’s work.
“You didn’t cut out the stems first?”
Mari continues dicing.
“I’ve told you to cut out the stems first before.”
“You’ve told me a lot in my life,” Mari says.
“Sometimes I’m afraid I haven’t told you enough.” Mari’s mom sets to seasoning the chicken.
As her words hang in the air, Mari wonders if this is how it will be from now on. Every conversation ready to take a turn for the grim. Every sentence ready to foreshadow. Her mom must sense it too because she changes the subject. “So. School starts in a week. Excited?”
“About as excited as that chicken you’re butchering.”
“Oh, please. I bet you are. I mean, it’s your
senior
year.”
“It’s just school, Mom.”
“But senior year is absolutely
the best
. God, I had so much fun! Cheerleading. Student council. Senior trip.
Prom.
You’re going to love it; I know you will.” She wipes her forehead with the back of her forearm, and then pauses. “There’s so much to do. So much I want to see you do,” she adds.
“Yup, I really do think they’re going to make me head cheerleader this year,” Mari says.
Her mom ignores her. “Do you know who you want to ask you to prom yet?”
“I’d sooner walk into a lake.”
“What about
Dante
?”
“Sheesh, cool your jets, Mom. I tell you what—you can go in my place.”
“I guarantee you’ll get excited once we start dress shopping . . . and you know, you really should start letting me give you a few style tips. You’re such a beautiful girl. A few small adjustments and you’ll have to fight the boys off with a stick.”
“I think I had that nightmare once,” Mari says. “Need me to cut anything
In that moment, Mari decides to cancel Magic tonight. She sends a text out to the group, drawing her attention away from the episode’s foregone conclusion.
Her phone chirps with a reply from Dante:
no problem. everything alright?
In her reply she lies that everything is all right.
The next text is from Archie:
it’s cool. i’ve got a lot to do tonight
.
Then her phone falls silent. Nothing from Sam. Nothing from Sarah.
A moment later, it chirps with another message from Archie:
hey, want to hang out tomorrow . . . just the two of us . . . ?
She wonders if it is a joke.
Does he like her?
Mari doesn’t know how to respond to the strange request so she just doesn’t. She sets her phone down and turns her attention back to the TV. But the screen is now blank. Her brother and Macadamia have left.
• • •
Mari runs her hands along the surface of the tomato’s skin as the water washes over it. Setting it aside, she cleans two more and then pulls out a cutting board.
Mari’s mom is next to her, quartering raw chicken. Macadamia sniffs around their feet, scavenging for dropped food. The annoying voices of sports announcers spill over from the living room TV. Video game explosions rumble through the ceiling from her brothers’ room upstairs.
Her mom brings the butcher’s knife down with a heavy
thunk
.
Mari sets to dicing the tomatoes.
Her mom looks over. “Still upset about your friends cancelling another game night?”
“Of course.” Mari fails to mention that she cancelled it because she doesn’t know how much time she has left with her mom. Why waste it playing some pointless game with friends whose fictional characters she knows better than the people behind them?
Her mom smiles. “Well, some things are just out of your control. But it’s nice to have you help me in the kitchen. Those boys of ours are useless.”
Mari shrugs. “It does seem to be a trait of the gender.”
Her mom finishes with the chicken, pushes it aside, and washes her hands in the sink. She begins opening cabinets and pulls out a few bottles of spices. After setting them out on the counter, she examines Mari’s work.
“You didn’t cut out the stems first?”
Mari continues dicing.
“I’ve told you to cut out the stems first before.”
“You’ve told me a lot in my life,” Mari says.
“Sometimes I’m afraid I haven’t told you enough.” Mari’s mom sets to seasoning the chicken.
As her words hang in the air, Mari wonders if this is how it will be from now on. Every conversation ready to take a turn for the grim. Every sentence ready to foreshadow. Her mom must sense it too because she changes the subject. “So. School starts in a week. Excited?”
“About as excited as that chicken you’re butchering.”
“Oh, please. I bet you are. I mean, it’s your
senior
year.”
“It’s just school, Mom.”
“But senior year is absolutely
the best
. God, I had so much fun! Cheerleading. Student council. Senior trip.
Prom.
You’re going to love it; I know you will.” She wipes her forehead with the back of her forearm, and then pauses. “There’s so much to do. So much I want to see you do,” she adds.
“Yup, I really do think they’re going to make me head cheerleader this year,” Mari says.
Her mom ignores her. “Do you know who you want to ask you to prom yet?”
“I’d sooner walk into a lake.”
“What about
Dante
?”
“Sheesh, cool your jets, Mom. I tell you what—you can go in my place.”
“I guarantee you’ll get excited once we start dress shopping . . . and you know, you really should start letting me give you a few style tips. You’re such a beautiful girl. A few small adjustments and you’ll have to fight the boys off with a stick.”
“I think I had that nightmare once,” Mari says. “Need me to cut anything
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