Dish 4

I'm having trouble deciding what's shorter- Susannah's attention span or my 12 year old brother's. Seriously, this girl can talk, talk, talk and I know that's what girls are genetically programmed to do, but still. I try to be polite and sit in the back with her to keep up some sort of conversation as Adem drives, but when I finally come up with something to say, she goes, "You know what else I think is weird?" I cough several times to signal Adem to drive faster. He has a Mustang for crying out loud, but he insists on being a "safe driver." Ah, youth is wasted on the young...

       We finally arrive at Adem's house in the Crystal Lakes neighborhood. Most of the popular girls at our school live around here, which kinda freaks me out. Sometimes I like to mess with them and walk down their street wearing my sloppiest outfit ever and just stand there, knowing that I am completely ruining their picture perfect exclusive paradise. 

     Sure, I don't fit into their world-- neither does the rustic lion statue in front of the gate as soon as I lean on it. I got caught taking someone's boat out on the lake that I thought was for the public and got in a tad bit of trouble for that. Nevertheless, I'm over here just as much as I am at my real house and I don't have to pay home owner's association fees and can golf whenever I want to. Win.

"Alright, everyone out," Adem says after taking five minutes to perfectly park his car against the curb.

Susannah bounds out of the car, clutching her messenger bag just as surely as she did when she walked into our psych class this afternoon. I lug my backpack out, wishing for a second that rolling backpacks were still permissible at our age.

"So what's the plan again?" I say, stepping on the cobblestone path up to the front door.

" She's here for a psychology study session," Adem says, dribbling his soccer ball.

"Right, so, that's great, but isn't your mom going to wonder how we're studying if we're watching a game? It looks more like 'hanging out' and you know what your mom thinks of you and girls 'hanging out.'"

I chuckle as Adem fumbles with his keys.

"We're studying athletic social norms and group dynamics in regards to professional soccer," Susannah says cheerily.

Touché.

Adem pushes open the door.

"Mom, I'm home!"

We step over the threshold and the smell of spices and oil creep into my nose. My stomach grumbles again. I kick off my shoes immediately and set them by the door. It's become a habit now when I come over to Adem's house to take off my shoes inside. He says it's a culture thing, but I'm sure it's better for the carpet too. Susannah slides her moccasins  next to mine.

          "Your house is so gorgeous," Susannah gushes.

          "Thanks," Adem says with a nod. The Yohanes household is simply amazing. It doesn't look like it's straight out of a Macy's catalog. It actually has a real personality  with a mix of their family's traditional Ethiopian paintings and statues with Italian style pillars and marble work. Not to sound like a HGTV nerd here, but hey, I appreciate a nicely furbished home. And a woman who can roast lamb the way it should be.

        "Adem, you're here?" Mrs. Yohanes calls while clanging sounds ensue. I lead the way to the kitchen which easily takes up half of the house's bottom floor. Adem's mom is stirring a pot on the stove, chopping onions and tomatoes and has a million other things going on at the same time. She wipes her hands on a towel and tugs her red bandana tied across her forehead.

       " Zacariah, dear, how are you doing? Always good to see you in your home. You know it's your home too, right? Our home is your home!" She breaks out a brilliant smile of perfectly white, square teeth and then hugs me. 

        "Thanks, Mrs. Yohanes. I'm fine. Thanks for asking," I say. "A little hungry, but fine."

         She lets go of me and wags her finger.

        "I know you're hungry. That's why I love you. You always come and enjoy my food and here my son always wants to go eat outside," she says.

         Adem rolls his eyes.

         "I would love to try your food. It smells wonderful," Susannah pipes up from behind me.

        "Hi, I'm Susannah. A friend of Adem's from school." She puts her hand out.

         Mrs. Yohanes studies her and then looks at Adem.

       "A friend from school? I've never heard of her before."

       "I just moved into their psychology class today and uh, we planned to have a study session today," Susannah says, bringing her hand back. " I know it's very rush-rush, but I hope it's okay with you. I'm very serious about school just like your son. I don't normally hang out during the school week."

         We all stand in awkward silence as Mrs. Yohanes's brows knit together in thought. 

        "Okay, but I want you to sit in the living room where I can see you," she says finally.

        "That's perfect, 'cause we have to watch the soccer game on TV for our assignment," Adem says, kissing his mom on the forehead.

        Mrs. Yohanes shakes her head.

        "I don't understand what they are teaching in schools these days. Not like back home..."

         We don't hear the rest of it, because Adem races over to turn on the TV. Susannah laughs and shoves me out of the kitchen. I settle down on the leather sofa as cheers roar from the screen and stacatto commentary of players I don't know and Adem pumps his fists in the air.

        "Wow, he's really into this," Susannah says, sitting cross-legged. 

        "Mhm," I say, digging through the front pouch of my backpack for some leftover candy or mints.

         "Yes, go, go! Oh my god, no why did you let it go? What was that?" Adem buries his head in his hands.
         "Did you guys see that?" 
         I nod instinctively;  Susannah laughs.
         "You know, he's kind of cute," Susannah whispers.
          "Mhm," I say again. How did I forget to restock my snack inventory? Next time, I won't pass up Mom's Costco run and think she'll get what I need. I guess I have to hold out 'til Mrs. Y is ready with lunch. Unless I go over and help her now...
         "Zac, did you hear what I just said?"
         I look up at Susannah and her ginormous brown eyes with muddy brown shadow stare back at me. And she's smiling for some reason.
         "No, sorry," I admit. I don't actually hear a lot of things girls say. Mostly because I  assume (rightly) that they aren't talking to me.
        She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leans closer.
       "I said, I think Adem's kind of cute."
        A part of me groans on the inside and I feel like all my surroundings are out of sync. Adem sits frozen in front of the blaring TV screen, oil sizzles while Mrs. Yohanes hums in the kitchen and Susannah is clapping eagerly, her bangles jingling incessantly in my ears. 


What a conniving little witch.