How to Make a Human

"Demetri's nice. Are you two dating?" Ben interrogated, sprawled out next to me on our green front lawn, a plate of cut up PB&J sandwiches between us.

"No, he's actually a meanie," damn it, I did it again, "Asshole."

"A meanie-asshole?"

"Yeah. But Shane's cool," I responded, rolling over on my stomach and picking at a blade of grass.

"Who's Shane? Is he your boyfriend? I bet you he is."

"He's not," I urged. "I've only been at this school for a week. Who do you think you're talking to? It took me a year to talk to the opposite gender without giggling like a creep every time."

Ben laughed, "I forgot about that! I wouldn't even call it a giggle, you did this weird, breathy heh thing."

"Thanks," I sighed, plucking the blade of grass from the ground and examining it closely.

"Hey, you were the one who reminded me. You know I'll just make fun of you for that shit. Don't give me any ammo."

I rolled over on my back and put my hands behind my head, "I guess you're right."

The sky was still light, but turning purplish as the sun sunk downward.

"How've things been?" Ben asked, laying on his side and propping himself up on an elbow.

"Okay, I guess," I responded.

"Be more specific. Are you making any friends?" Ben asked, all joking aside. Stupid Ben. As mentioned earlier, Ben was the person who always kept me cool. Unfortunately for me, this didn't always mean "cool by association" like I wanted. It meant he pushed me out of my comfort zone.

"No, mommy! All the kids are being mean to me and kicking down my sandcastles!" I responded, attempting to look witty and change the subject. Ben got the point and flipped over on his back, joining me in staring at the empty sky.

"That sucks. You always made some ballin' sandcastles."

"Ballin'? Are you kidding me?"

"Meanie-asshole? Are you kidding me?"

"Ah, touché."

"I just want to know if you're--"

"Ben, Bobbie, you guys coming for dinner?" Mae was leaning against the front door with her arms crossed and a bored expression painted on her face.

"Hell yeah!" Ben flipped around on his stomach and scurried towards the door. "Are we having meatballs? We better be having meatballs!"

I pushed myself off of the ground and shuffled slowly to the door. Ben grabbed my hand and yanked me towards him, where he picked me up and threw me over his shoulders, causing me to give a loud, pained "OOF!"

Mae gave an amused snort, pushing herself off the doorframe and turning to go inside. Of course, Ben is crazy and likes to abuse his distant relatives, so he grabbed Mae and swung her over his other shoulder causing her to cough and shout angrily.

"What the hell, Ben? Put me down!"

"Don't say hell. You're only eight. It's weird," he stated, pushing the door open with his foot and walking into the front room.

"That's what I'm saying!" I agreed, sputtering slightly when he readjusted me on his shoulder. "Now put me the frick down!"

Ben ignored me and jogged into the kitchen causing both Mae and I to grunt as our stomachs bounced on his muscular shoulder. Damn him for being unnaturally fit. Or naturally fit. I don't know, fitness in general is unnatural to me.

"OMA!" Ben cried, skidding into the kitchen where Oma was putting a bowl of noodles on the table and Opa was pouring himself a glass of scotch. "NOODLES! Does that mean you made meatballs? For me?"

"Yes, I made meatballs, calm down," Oma quipped, bustling around and mixing her famous sauce to go with the meatballs.

"Omaaaa!" I whined, "My stomach hurts! Tell Ben to put me down!"

Oma turned away from her feverish mixing and gave me a bored look.

"Pleeeeease!"

"Fine. Ben, put the girls down." And she was stirring again.

"Fair enough. You guys are tiny on your own, but carrying both of you at the same time is like carrying the fat lady at the circus."

My Oma glanced at Ben as she set the bowl down on the table.

"What?" Ben asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Oma? What? What are you thinking? Tell me!"

"Ich habe keine normalen Verwandten,[1]" she mumbled under her breath. Opa laughed in agreement and sat down next to Mae with his glass of scotch.

"What does that mean?" I muttered to Ben as I took my seat next to him.

"Something about not having enough sweaty bras," Ben shrugged, scooping noodles onto his plate.

"That can't be right," Mae laughed from Ben's other side.

"I'm not fluent in German or anything!" Ben defended through a mouth full of bread, "I only spent a couple of months there."

"Ben! Wait until everyone is seated before you start eating!" Oma snapped, taking a seat between Opa and me.

"Sorry," he sighed, trying to swallow down his massive bite of bread. Oma rolled her eyes and bowed her head in her own personal grace. Oma used to make Mae and I join in on some prayer neither of us particularly cared about (or believed in, for that matter), but she gave up when I flat out told her I would form my own opinion on religion and when Mae just stopped joining her. Oma and Opa prayed for us. Apparently god ignored the prayers meant for me and went straight to making Mae a prodigy.

"Oma, do you know how much I've missed your cooking?" Ben sighed happily with a mouth full of pasta. I didn't know if it was revolting or endearing. I feel like it was both. Uh, men.

Oma rolled her eyes and pretended to be disgusted, but her inner housewife was too flattered not to let a little smile peek through the grimace.

"Hey, guess what," Ben said after draining half his glass of water to help him choke down the massive bite. Okay, I take it back. It's definitely not endearing in any way.

"Hm?" Oma asked disinterested.

"I met Bobbie's friend today!"

Mae quirked an eyebrow, "The weird one?"

"No, he met Demetri," I answered.

Mae nodded, "He's pretty cool."

"Um, pause not," I retorted. "He's a jerk."

Oma was listening now. "If he's a jerk why are you hanging out with him? Does he party? Is he a drinker? Does he smoke the devil's grass?"

"What? Oma, no," I answered hastily. For all I knew, he could be the top drug dealer in Rhode Island, but that's the kind of thing you don't usually want to tell you guardian.

"Is he mean? Abusive? Did he get you pregnant?" Opa was in on the conversation now.

There was a pause before Oma began laughing, "You don't actually think Bobbie is pregnant, do you? She's not even sexually active! I doubt she's even had her first kiss yet!"

Ben laughed in agreement, Mae rolled her eyes at the stupidity of our family, and Opa shook his head and mumbled something like, "how could I be so stupid? Of course she's a virgin. She's Bobbie."

"You should be proud of me for that!" I whined.

Oma's laughing mellowed slightly, "Yes, we're very, aha, proud."

"Omaaaa!" I wailed, "You have old fashion values! Boys and girls shouldn't touch until married!"

Oma began laughing again, "That's how it was for me. You do what you want Bobbie. Don't let my values hold you back from getting some… action."

Ben snorted into his fork of noodles and I covered my face in embarrassment. How did Oma know that phrase? And how did she know I hadn't got any action? And how did she know it wasn't by personal choice and values? I swear, I always thought that if the subject came up I could lie and say, "Oh, it's all by personal choice, I don't want to disappoint my Oma."

"Don't listen to your Oma," Opa smiled. "I don't what my little girl bumping uglies until she is well past thirty."

"Opa!"

"How do you guys know these phrases?" Ben laughed, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Television," Opa cheered enthusiastically. "Have you ever seen The Real World?"

Ben laughed some more and I attempted to turn the subject on him, "Well, Ben's hair is really long now, huh? How about that? He looks like a hippie!"

Oma shook her head, "Bobbie, that look is in now. Don't you watch the fashion channel?"

"Have you seen her outfit?" Mae deadpanned from beside me.

"Stop picking on me! This isn't fair!" I huffed, crossing my arms and blowing a curly blonde strand of hair out of my face.

"Fair enough, fair enough," Oma sighed.

"Ha, bumping uglies," Ben murmured under his breath, earning an elbow to the ribs, courtesy of me.

Despite everything (fighting with Demetri, my grandparents being infinitely cooler then me, Ben coming to town, me having no sense of fashion), I still couldn't help but look up at positive side. Things were going well. I couldn't complain. Well, I could, but it wouldn't do any good.

Unfortunately, I often tend to forget that when your eyes are fixed on the sky, you can't exactly tell when you're going to be attacked on ground level. And for me, that ground level attacker was Demetri Bodello.

[1] I have no normal relatives.