If You Told Me To

Sarah let out a long breath in front of her mirror, smoothing down the skirt of her light floral sundress. She wanted to look absolutely perfect when she showed her face in Antonia’s home, since she didn’t want the boy staying with her to think that she was just an annoying little snoop for the rest of the summer. He was the only kid around for miles, so being his friend was one of her top priorities.

She nibbled on her lip for a second nervously. She knew that she would have felt much more secure and confident if she were allowed to wear her normal cut-off jean shorts and a t-shirt, but she and her father had learned the hard way that they were expected to dress up for the dinners with Antonia. Just thinking about the shocked and slightly offended look that had taken over the old woman’s face when she and her father had walked in wearing their casual clothes from the day the first time she invited them over, a few weeks after Sarah’s mom left, made the young girl’s stomach clench with embarrassment. Being slightly uncomfortable was a fair trade if it meant Antonia would be content.

“Sarah?” Jake’s voice came through her bedroom door muffled as he knocked. “Are you almost ready?”

She brushed down her hair one more time to make sure it wasn’t starting to stick up all over the place before calling back, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

“Well, don’t you look pretty?” Jake approved with a small smile. He was wearing a gray button-down and a pair of black slacks. Sarah couldn’t help but think that he looked really bland, but she didn’t want to say anything about it.

“Thank you,” she replied, grinning back at him. “Should we go over now?”

Jake turned over his wrist and glanced down at his watch to check the time. “Oh, yeah. We’re already a couple minutes late.”

After Sarah slipped on her nicest pair of flip-flops, the two hurried to the home next door in silence. The gravel crunched under their feet with every step, and Sarah couldn’t help but grimace when a few stray rocks managed to sneak into the space between the sole of her shoe and the bottom of her foot.

Antonia was already waiting on the porch when the Richards family walked up the front walk, and the smile on her face was bright enough to light the darkest of caves. “Hello!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I hope y’all are hungry because Harry helped me make quite the meal.”

Sarah thought she heard some mumbled protests from inside, but she was too tactful to say anything about it. Instead, she smiled, blushing, and looked down at the chipping nail polish covering her toenails.

“It smells incredible in here,” Jake complimented, inhaling deeply to emphasize his statement, as he stepped into the front foyer of the house.

“Thank you,” Antonia responded graciously. “Sarah, if you want, you can go help Harry bring the food into the dining room. Just be careful of the hot plates, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah agreed before doing as she was told, slipping off her flip-flops and padding her bare feet against the hardwood flooring on the way to the kitchen.

The boy she knew was named Harry was picking up a pan of mashed potatoes, cringing from what Sarah could only assume was the heat. She opened her mouth to greet him, maybe to compliment the beanie he had draped over his curls, but he immediately turned around and exited the room before she could get out a word.

She pretended not to be hurt as she picked up the pan that held the giant roast chicken, protecting her palms with the oven glove she found on top of the stove, and ventured into the dining room. Harry was still standing there, biting his lip in thought as he stared at the crowded table, probably trying to figure out where to put the dish in his hands without disturbing any of the food that was there before.

He glanced up when he heard the door swing closed loudly behind her, his eyebrows furrowing into what looked like anger. “What are you doing?” he snapped. “We don’t have room for that right now. Go put it back.”

She ignored his bratty demand, instead pulling out a chair and putting the pan on top of it. “So let’s move things around a little bit. I can help you.”

He pretended she wasn’t there, pushing dishes closer together to make room for the remaining pieces of the meal. Without another word, Sarah joined in until she noticed that the dumb boy had brought out a couple of pies, which definitely were supposed to wait until dessert.

“We don’t need these,” she mumbled, almost humiliated that she’d spoken in the first place.

Her blush only deepened when the boy turned toward her, insulted, and half-shouted, “What?”

She swallowed and forced herself not to notice how pretty his green eyes were. “I said,” she repeated, her voice getting stronger, “that we don’t need the pies in here right now. It’s just taking up space we need on the table.”

Harry glanced back down at the table, and his eyes widened when they landed on the pies, as if he hadn’t even realized they were there. “That wasn’t me,” he quickly explained. “Aunt Tony brought them in here. Old woman’s going insane.”

Before Sarah could jump to the older woman’s defense, he picked up all three pies, balancing them around his arms, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

As she tried to breathe away the angry flush that was threatening to take over her face, she finished arranging the table so everything fit neatly, with about the same amount of food in front of each place. And a few minutes later, everyone was sitting around, stomachs rumbling and utensils clacking as they served themselves.

“So, Harry,” Jake started kindly in his easy-to-get-along-with way of his, “where are you visiting from?”

The boy chewed quickly and swallowed before he answered. “I’m from a small town about a half hour from New York City.”

“He’s in the school chorus, and he’s in the running to be captain of the baseball team,” Antonia chimed in proudly. “Isn’t that right, Harry?”

The boy nodded shortly before stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork like he was trying to murder it. Sarah felt herself shift in her seat a little to the right, so she was millimeters closer to her father.

There was a short silence, during which Jake kept stealing glances at Harry, his eyes narrowing each time. Sarah could tell that her father thought Harry was rude for wearing a hat at the table, but his polite and easygoing nature kept him from speaking up.

There was no need, though; Antonia caught the message and cleared her throat before ordering, “Harry, take off your hat at the table.”

The boy’s hand immediately closed over his beanie. “No, I can’t. I’m having a bad hair day.”

Jake choked for a second, coughing violently before taking a sip of the glass of Coke in front of him. Antonia looked humiliated, like she couldn’t believe her grandson had said something so feminine in the heart of masculine country, but Sarah couldn’t help but giggle.

Not that she was laughing at him. She was more surprised that the newcomer actually had the guts to say something like that in front of two adults. In a way, she admired the fact that he was willing to do or say anything he wanted, despite what the people around him expected.

He shot her a look, and for a second, Sarah thought she’d won over the new boy by taking his side. But after reviewing the sight in her head, she realized that he was glaring at her, silently scolding her for being mean to him, and she turned back to her plate to hide her blush.

“Well, um,” Jake started up again, desperate to change the subject, “Sarah’s in the art club at school. Do you draw or anything, Harry?”

“Unless stick figures count, no.”

Sarah wanted to laugh again, but she bit her tongue instead, not wanting to give him something else to hate her for.