Chapter 3

Jason pulled up his shorts and plopped down on the edge of his bed. His “plop” bounced his rolled-up socks into the air and down on to the floor, where they rolled out of reach. Sighing, he stood and reached down to pick them up.

“Your Mom’s in a good mood.”

The unexpected voice almost made him jump clear across the room. He spun and found Stephanie standing in his bedroom doorway.

He stuttered. “H-hi.”

“Your Mom’s in the bathroom, and I got tired of waiting for you. Can I come in?”

Jason nodded. How long had she stood in his doorway? He plopped down again, this time holding his socks.

Stephanie moved around his room, peeking into his closet and even into his open dresser drawer. Instead of sneakers, she wore flip-flops, and her lavender nails sported tiny green polka dots. “You’re lucky,” Steffi said. “I got stuck in the smallest bedroom.”

“This room has drawbacks.”

“Like what?”

“The master bedroom is closer.” He shrugged to indicate the hallway. “Last night must have been special, or something, ‘cause Mom got kind of loud.”

Stephanie chuckled. “I know how it is. Sometimes my parents do it in the living room.”

“What?” Jason realized his parents must have done the same. Where would it be safe to sit?

“Maybe that’s why your mom is so happy this morning.”

Still holding his socks, Jason considered how often his mother began the day in a cheerful mood. They must do it all the time!

Stephanie stopped her examination and glanced at Jason. “You didn’t text me this morning.” Her glance wasn’t exactly an accusation, but it was close.

That brought him back to reality. He’d intended to send a text after breakfast, but between the failure of his usual trick to fall asleep, and then later with his parents carrying on, he’d slept in. “I couldn’t fall asleep and slept in.”

“Next time send me a text. If Gene isn’t home, I’ll stay up and keep you company.”

“‘Kay. Hey, you know what else I forgot? I forgot to say how nice you look.” He must have said the right thing because Stephanie’s smile lit the room.

Nodding towards his closet, she asked, “Are you going to wear a shirt today?”

“Um yeah.” He already had his favorite Slayer T-shirt laid out.

Nodding, she reached into his closet and removed a short-sleeved button-down shirt. “Here, wear this.”

“But...” he considered objecting but stood and donned the shirt.

“And don’t wear those ratty old tennis shoes.” She reached down and tossed him a pair of leather boat shoes. “Wear these.”

“But...” she’d already turned back to his dresser, closed the top drawer, and opened the next one down. What he called a dresser was really a chest of drawers, Five drawers in total, from his sock drawer at the top, to the deeper shirt drawer at the bottom. If Stephanie continued looking through each drawer, and if she continued to bend at the waist, he didn’t need college trigonometry to calculate the angle her skirt might end up at. He sat, keeping those angles in mind, and slowly pulled the shoes on.

Downstairs, Mom washed breakfast dishes while singing along to her top-40, golden-oldies radio station. “Good morning, sleepyhead. And Stephanie, I’d wondered where you went.” Then Mom stared. “Whoa!” she said. “You did not pick out your clothes.”

“I did it for him,” Stephanie beamed.

“Great job, Steph. Jason looks very handsome. Now, I’m making waffles, would you like one or two?”

Stephanie tried to refuse but settled for, “just one waffle, please.”

Mom didn’t bother asking Jason. She already had one on his plate while a second steamed in the iron. That waffle went to Stephanie, and mom made his second.

Instead of maple syrup, Stephanie fished the wedge of lemon from her iced tea and squeezed it over her waffle. Mid-squeeze, she caught Jason watching and gave him a sheepish grin. Showing his solidarity, he forked the lemon from his glass and passed it over.

Mom joined them after making her own waffle. Perhaps, because Stephanie didn’t use syrup, Mom ate hers plain. She didn’t know about the lemon trick.

“Stephanie,” Mom asked, “do you ever miss not going to school? You must miss not having friends.”

“I don’t know how to miss something I’ve never had.” Her eyes flicked to Jason for a moment before turning back to his mother. “Although Jason is a good friend.”

Jason hung his head and groaned. “Oh, no. It’s the kiss of death!”

“What are you going on about?” asked Mom.

“Stephanie friend-zoned me,” he mock-wailed.

Rubbing her head, Stephanie asked, “What’s wrong with being friends?”

Mom spoke up, “Pay no attention to Charlie Brown here. If he’s friend-zoned, it’s his own fault.”

“What’s friend-zoned, and who is Charlie Brown?” Stephanie glared at Jason.

Jason sat up and rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Mom, that’s an ancient reference, even for you.” He turned to Stephanie, “Charlie Brown is an old cartoon character.”

“Who carried a torch for ‘The little red-headed girl.’” Added Mom with significant glances for her son and his guest.

Jason felt his face grow hot. Across the table, Stephanie’s cheeks were also red.

Perhaps satisfied with the awkward situation she’d created, Mom stood, plate in hand. “ I’ll leave you two alone and eat my breakfast on the deck.

Several quiet minutes passed before Jason spoke, “I’ve never thought to put lemon on waffles.”

“It’s something Mom and I do. You probably wouldn’t like it.”

“Speaking of like, I like how your impossible eye color gave away your secret.”

“Oh?” She sat back and crossed her arms. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I’m not supposed to know this—Mom and Dad think it’ll screw with my ‘Emotional Development’—but I was gene engineered too. I got a ‘Certified Genius Gene’ package, and you got those beautiful eyes.”

Those beautiful eyes studied him, and Jason began to fret. “Did I, uh, screw up?”

Stephanie grimaced. “I guess this is one of those relationship building moments,” she took a deep breath and began counting on her fingers. “First, you didn’t screw up. Second, don’t worry about offending me. I’m a big girl. Third,” Stephanie stopped and shook her head. “Third is complicated. And it’s about your father. Where does he get off hating genies after having you gene-edited? Fourth, well, I inherited my eye color from my mother.”

“You know my Dad’s a lawyer, right? The law is a big deal to him. He’s like a walking, talking legal textbook. Genies are illegal, and that’s probably why he thinks the way he does. Gene editing is small stuff, and it’s legal, and that makes it okay. I bet if Dad ever meets a genie for real, he’ll be super nice. Dad kind of sees himself as a protector of victims. He only does criminal defense to make sure his clients get a fair trial.”

“Fair enough,” she said.

“As for me,” Jason reached across the table and tapped the back of her hand. “As for me, you have to tell me right away if I do or say something you don’t like. No holding stuff back, ‘kay?”

Smiling, Stephanie scooted her chair back to the table, then reached across and speared a bite of his waffle. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I still like you.” She chewed the butter and maple-syrup-soaked bite with interest. “Maple syrup,” she decreed, “is much better than I expected. So, boyfriend, what’s friend-zoning?”

“It’s when a boy likes a girl, but the girl only wants to be friends. Once a guy’s in the zone, it’s all over.”

“I don’t see why people can’t be both.”

“Some can. Like my parents. They have each other’s back like you wouldn’t believe.” He reached over and snatched a bite of her waffle. It was tangy and lemony, not at all bad. “If possible, that’s what I’d like for us.”

“Well, my parents don’t have a great relationship. You’ll have to help me figure my part out.”

“Your dad—” Jason caught the sudden heat in Stephanie’s eyes. “Sorry! Your father, he doesn’t hit your mom, does he?”

“No, he’s not that kind of terrible.”

“Oh, I’m missing something then.”

“You’re lucky, trust me.”

Thunder crashed outside, and Mom ran inside with her plate. “It’s pouring!” She focused on Jason and Stephanie, “Do you two understand each other better now?”

“I thou—” Jason started.

“We do.” Stephanie finished.

“Good,” declared Mom. “I’m glad I helped.”

The late morning surprise shower looked to become an all-day soaker. Stephanie called her mom for permission to stay and hang out with Jason. Before she hung up, his mom ran to the living room to pick up the extension.

“Hi, this is Shirley Thomas, Jason’s mother. Sorry to butt in, but since our kids are officially an item, I thought we should get to know each other.”

Knowing how his mother loved to talk, Jason thought this was a good time to get his new girlfriend alone. He mimed hanging up the phone, and she got it right away. In a rush, Stephanie said, “Mom, I’m going to hang out with Jason. Bye,” and hung up.

Taking Stephanie’s hand—he’d have to ask how she managed to have warm hands all the time—Jason headed for the family room. The out-of-the-way and semi-secluded family room. Once down the steps and out of Mom’s sight, Jason steered Stephanie towards the couch. Because girlfriend, minus parents, added to couch, equals fun. Stephanie, however, decided to be the opposite, rather than the adjacent and turned an acute angle towards The Wall.

The wall held an assortment of digital picture frames and a few, vintage photographs. The digital frames cycled through Mom’s trove of images.

“Do you know all these people?” asked Stephanie. A note of incredulity was in her voice.

Stepping over, Jason rested his hands on her waist. Yep, she was warm there too. “Most are family. Some pictures go back generations.” He pointed at one. “This one’s old.”

Stephanie peered at the now-obsolete, high-definition image, then remarked in surprise, “He looks like you!”

“That’s my great grandfather. I’m told he led an interesting life.”

Stephanie leaned back; her shoulders pressed against his chest. “Oh?” she asked and glanced over her shoulder, “what happened to him?”

“Girlfriends happened. Lots and lots of girlfriends He couldn’t choose one ‘cause he loved them all equally.”

Surprised, she pushed off from his chest and spun to face him. “You’re making that up.”

“Nope! It’s one of the oldest family legends.”

Stephanie pulled his head down until their foreheads touched. “You better not take after him,” she scolded.

He slipped his fingertips under the hem of her shirt. Just far enough, his thumbs grazed the bare skin at her waist. “Why would I spend time with another girl when I can spend it all with you?” Their closeness threatened to overwhelm his senses.

Her hands covered his, but she didn’t redirect him. At least not yet. “Mom says all men get bored sooner or later.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not saying your Mom’s wrong, but—”

Behind them, Jason’s mother called down the stairs. “I’m done talking to your mother, Stephanie. She said you can stay until supper.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Thomas,” Stephanie replied, then turned her considerable attention back to Jason. “What do you want to do?” she asked.

He still needed to ask about her “warm for a girl” skin temperature. But right now, her presence commanded one hundred percent of his attention. Almost of their own accord, his thumbs—still riding on the flair of her hips—hooked inside the waistband of her skirt. Both thumb tips encountered something lacy and soft.

Stephanie squirmed out of his grasp and waggled a finger. She asked, “Can we play that racing game again?”

Disappointed but unsure if he needed to apologize, Jason reached for the controllers and booted the console. “Sure,” he said, glancing back at her. “Same deal as before?”

Stephanie paused her resumed examination of the Thomas family pictures. “You mean your trick bet?”

“Trick? Yeah, but I really wanted to kiss you.”

“All you had to do was ask.” Stephanie returned and kissed his cheek, then snatched a controller from his hand. “It’s not like I’m mean or anything.”

With the footrest back against the couch, they kicked off their shoes and got busy.

It was during the first race that Stephanie discovered the power-ups. Coming out of the first turn, both teens battled for position. Intent on gaining the inside, she drove straight through an item box. The box flashed out of existence, and her character, the auburn-haired princess, zoomed down the track, a banana in her hand.

Befuddled, Stephanie asked, “Why am I waving a banana?”

“I’m no psychiatrist, but you might be trying to tell me something.”

This earned Jason a snort of laughter and an elbow straight into his ribs. “Oof!”

She said, “I better not catch you waving a banana around. It might get peeled.”

“Ouch,” the thought made him wince. “Okay, that banana,” he nodded towards the display, “is a weapon. If you throw it and if it hits me, I’ll spin out.”

Of course, she needed a demonstration. They spent the next several races trying the different power-ups and goofing off. It was a lot more fun than a serious, competitive race.

Near the end of the second race, a weapon with potential spawned ahead. New for this version of the game, tow chains offered the ability to slow another racer and then to sling-shot ahead. It required a keen sense of timing to gain the maximum boost.

Tow Chain in hand, he timed his approach. They drifted through the same turn; he held his drift longer for the additional boost. Jason lined up and activated the device. A grappling hook shot out, binding his kart to Stephanie’s. Jason let off the controls and allowed her kart to tow his along. Any number of backward-firing weapons would knock him loose, but she didn’t have one. Her cart slowed to a crawl.

The fires of competition burned hot, and Stephanie growled in frustration. “You rat! You dirty rat. Get that thing off my ... my...” And there, for lack of a word, her voice stalled.

“Your butt?” He prodded a little more. “Your tail? Sweetheart, you have such a pretty one.” He squeezed her knee, then slid his hand up several inches. The warmth of her skin seemed to welcome his touch. If anything, the temperature increased as his fingers traveled north. Then he noticed her stillness and ... If glares could burn, she’d have set him on fire.

“What,” he asked, “is your knee off limits?”

“No,” she replied, “but you’ve gotten awful pushy. I liked you better before.”

He yanked his hand away. This hadn’t gone like he wanted. “S-sorry.”

“Jason,” Stephanie half-turned to face him. “You want us to have a physical relationship, and I’m not opposed to that. But, let me set the pace, please.”

Maybe it was his certified genius genes, but instead of feeling butthurt, he considered her side. She hadn’t grown up with a group of boisterous friends. She didn’t go to public school and watch students grinding on or groping each other. His schoolmates engaged in R-rated public displays of affection. Treating Stephanie like a classmate probably wouldn’t work.