John

The next week, on a very unlikely warm Thursday, we have the last three periods free. This means we are free to go home at eleven, which is something that doesn't happen all that often.

Veronica decides to come with us for a change, so the three of us walk home together. Lunch with my very dear (and now very real!) girlfriend sounds like an awesome idea. I'm so busy thinking about this that I'm out of the loop with our conversation, so when Veronica pokes my face to bring me back to earth, it's pretty obvious she and Martin have been talking to me.

"I never knew you'd be such a crybaby," Veronica says, mocking me.

"Boo-hoo, she dumped me," Martin teases.

I turn red instantly; that was one very embarrassing moment and I didn't really want Veronica to know about it.

"Come on, dude," I say, frowning at me cousin. "You didn't tell her that story, did you?"

"He did," Veronica confirms, "and it's so sweet of you." She stands up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.

"So then, why did you dump him?" Martin asks matter-of-factly.

Now it's Veronica's turn to turn pink with embarrassment, and she takes a while to come up with her answer.

Finally, she speaks in hushed tones. "I thought that it was best for him to date someone else." Her voice grows smaller, and it's hard to hear what she's saying. "I thought he should be with someone prettier, or more interesting."

"There's no such thing as someone prettier," I say, almost offended.

"Gee, you're such a sweetheart," Martin mocks.

"Shut up, you," Veronica chides, bumping his shoulder. Her dreamy eyes turn toward me, and bliss courses through me. "John is adorable."

"You're more adorable," I say, and I lean closer for a kiss. It still feels all new and weird, even a week after our first kiss, but damn, I really like the way her warm lips feel on mine. I'm quickly turning bolder about it, too, so I cup her face in my hands and kiss her deeper despite Martin's obvious grunts of complaint. I like how it's awkward at first but then it slowly becomes supreme and beautiful, as if we're holding hands and have suddenly taken off flying.

If this isn't heaven, I don't know what is.

But as people often say: the higher you get, the harder you fall. This proves true when we finally get home. By some weird miracle of life, Mom's in the kitchen, which means I don't have time to conceal or plan anything. She's looking at us before we're even fully through the door, and notices right away that my arm is draped over Veronica's shoulder.

"Good morning, kids," she says, but I can tell she's not at all amused. All I can do now, is play along.

"Hello there, Sweet Aunt!" Martin, who as usual, doesn't get the complexity of the situation, greets my mother in his usual way. I'm really jealous of how carefree he can be. "To what do we owe the honor?"

My mother, of course, flashes my cousin a grin. "Your mother had to run some errands in town so I offered to make something for you all to have lunch."

She fixes us with an easy smile, although her eyes are firmly fixed on Veronica, who suddenly detaches from me and walks straight to the kitchen. The whole situation reminds me of those dreams I sometimes have where I need to run but my feet won't budge. I'm glued to the ground.

"Hi, I'm Veronica."

"Let me guess," Mom says. "You're the girlfriend?"

Veronica looks at me a little sheepishly from over her shoulder. Then she looks back at my mom and nods. "Yes," she says. "That would be me."

"Well, I'm glad I finally get to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Foster."

"Please," my mom says. "Just call me Liz."

"Yo, dude, are you okay?" Martin asks, bringing me back to life. Whatever is happening in the kitchen, it seems like some kind of a dream. I expected Mom to foam at the mouth like a rabid dog.

"Yeah, I just..."

Martin looks over at Veronica. "It's called social skills," he explains, like he's some sort of guru. "Unlike you, Vee has a lot of those."

I look into the kitchen again to see Veronica take off her backpack and prepare to help Mom at the counter. I can't believe it; the two of them are talking and laughing together like they have done this a million times before. I can't help but smile, and Mom catches it.

"John? Could you go and buy a couple drinks for lunch?"

Two minutes later I'm walking to the grocery store with Martin in a surreal sort of fog.

"You look so shocked, brother," Martin says, nudging me with his elbow.

"Well, I kinda am, you know? I never expected things to go so smoothly with Mom. Not at all."

"Really? I'm not; I knew it would go well."

"How?"

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets.

"Well, like I said, Vee has some very good social skills." He fixes me with his mocking grin. "And for some reason you seem to think your mother is some kind of a dark monster who eats kittens for breakfast, but she's, in fact, really chill. A bit strict at times, sure, but that's what moms are supposed to be about."

"I don't think my mom eats kittens," I counter, aware that I sound a bit like a petulant child.

"Whatever," he says, his eye-roll scoring a solid 9.4. "You're so scared of disappointing her, Johnny, which really shows your lack of confidence."

Now, this is another one of those times when this son of a badger surprises me... for the better. "Whoa. That was pretty deep."

"You'll never give me enough credit, will you?"

"I certainly won't!"

And we both laugh.

Later, Veronica joins us for lunch. Mom even bakes a cake for dessert, and we all have a pretty good time together, and several hours pass quickly before I find myself walking Veronica home.

"I love your mom," Veronica says out of the blue.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Why? Don't you?"

"Well, yeah. Of course, I do. She's my mother."

"Then why does it surprise you so much that I love her too?"

I take a deep breath before answering.

"To be honest," I say, "I was worried about you meeting her. The day we started fake-dating we were late to get back home, remember? And she wasn't exactly thrilled to know I was dating someone. And my mom is great at being a mom and while I love her a freaking lot, she can be quite scary when she's pissed. And since we've never talked about you again, I just assumed she wasn't thrilled about seeing us together today."

"I see." Veronica smiles for a second and looks ahead, but only after looping her arm through mine. "I have to admit I was worried for a moment, too. I thought you might be too embarrassed of me."

"Huh? Well, talk about crazy," I say, smirking. "Just name one reason why I should be embarrassed of you."

"Well, your Aunt mentioned I don't look my age."

"But that's one of your charms."

"I'd be terrified to come home with a boyfriend that looks like a little child. I can imagine my mother making some snarky comments and calling me a cradle robber or something."

"Huh. Interesting," I say. "You're very self-conscious about the way you look, aren't you?"

She looks uncomfortable now, her eyes still fixed on the sidewalk in front of us.

"Maybe," she says thoughtfully. "I guess I'm always being compared to my sister."

"You sure do look alike."

"See? That's the problem. People keep saying that, but when I stand in front of the mirror all I see is a scrawny little girl who's taking forever to grow up. I don't see anything resembling Candace, who is tall and beautiful, and confident and basically just supremely amazing. All I see is me; little old boring me."

"Well, I like little old Veronica a lot more than the supremely amazing Candace," I say, and I mean every word, and I'm surprised that I even feel a little pissed. Martin thinks the same thing about Veronica, too, so it bothers me that my girlfriend can't see her own awesomeness.

"Yeah, you sure seem to," Veronica says, her cheeks flushing a little.

"Damn right I do!" I snap. "Candace might be larger-than-life, sure, but she's also quite intimidating. I wouldn't date someone like her in a million years. In fact, I'd advise other guys to stay away, too, because women like Candace equal trouble more times than not." I pause, then take another deep breath. "Look, I get it. Sometimes I think it would be fun to be a little more like Martin, with his confidence and the way he acts like the whole world revolves around him. But to be honest I like being the way I am. I like to lay low and tread lightly and go unnoticed. It keeps me out of trouble, which is one of my main goals for the rest of my life. I don't need to be a leader like Martin, and you probably don't need to be concerned about whatever you have or haven't got in common with Candace, either. You are you, and in case you didn't notice, I like you just the way you are, and I like to think that this small fact alone counts for something."

We walk about half a block in silence. Finally, she leans her head against my shoulder and laces her fingers with mine.

"It's not a small fact, my dear John."

"Next time you look in the mirror, remember you're looking at the girl I fell in love with."

We come to a stop, now facing each other. Her free hand reaches up to caress my cheek, her sweet, warm eyes fixed on mine. Her mouth curves into the most glorious smile ever, and a second later she's on her tiptoes to kiss me. I cup her face in my hands, leaning in on our kiss, and in two seconds flat we're oblivious to our surroundings and floating above the clouds, and not even the blue sky matters anymore, because this kiss is anything but awkward; this one is supreme. We are communicating without words, and even if the world ended right this very second, I'd die happily, because I can say, right now, and with certainty, that the most amazing girl I've ever met is also in love with me.

Because, hell. I love this girl.

"WAY TO GO, RONNIE!"

Veronica jumps away from me as though she's been burned, almost landing on the street. I look up and spot Candace riding her bike our way. She makes a sudden stop right next to us, but she is not alone. Another woman is perched on the backseat.

"W-W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, CANDACE?" Veronica stutters. And even though the situation here is all sorts of embarrassing, I can't stop thinking how adorable Veronica looks right now, which overrides everything else.

The woman behind Candace takes off her helmet, and a mane of long, silky hair cascades over her shoulders, which looks strangely familiar. And when I look at the woman's face, there is an older version of Candace looking back at me, only she has bright brown eyes instead of gray. It has to be Veronica and Candace's mom.

It takes a second to sink in, but I finally realize that, if this is Veronica's mother, then she just saw us kissing, and this is NOT the way I envisioned meeting her. Embarrassment washes over me like a bucket of water, or perhaps red paint, because that's exactly what I must look like I've been doused in.

Veronica's mom is wearing a playful, mocking grin, and I notice the dimples right away. She finally speaks, and if I previously thought Candace's voice sounded like thunder, this woman is a freaking roaring storm.

"Wow!" she booms. "That was one hell of a kiss!"

"Stop that!" Veronica says, mortified. "What the hell is wrong with you, Mom?" Yup; this is Mom. Well then, I'm doomed.

"Not even I kissed like that at your age, you know?" Candace says, and both women laugh like mad hyenas. Veronica looks as though she wants to be anywhere but where we are, and I guess I should do something, but my brain is dead and my feet are glued to the ground. All that filters into my head are Martin's earlier words: That's called social skills. Unlike you, Vee has a lot of those. I wish Martin had said something that might actually help me right now.

"Hey, Ronnie's boyfriend, come closer!" It takes me a moment to uproot myself, but I finally find my legs and regain my ability to walk. If you're nitpicky, you could say I walk like a rusty robot, but I do manage to make my way to this woman, even though she is just three steps ahead of me. "What's your name?" she asks.

And then it clicks. Martin DID say something helpful after all. If Veronica has the social skills I lack, I guess I can just mimic her. I find my most comfortable smile and turn it on.

"Hi," I say casually. "I'm John."

"Pleased to meet you, John. You may call me Eliza."

Talk about signals from above! Something to keep the conversation flowing. I've got this, Martin. I HAVE social skills.

"Oh, cool. My mother's name is Elizabeth."

"Well, I guess you won't forget it, then." She places her hand on my shoulder. "You don't need to be so tense. I'm honestly glad to meet you. I've heard some nice things about you."

"Yeah, well I only met him for like, two minutes," Candace intervenes, "but isn't he super cute?"

Eliza laughs, so loud I wonder if she can be heard from my house. "He definitely is! Well done, Ronnie."

"Mom, please, you're embarrassing me." Veronica finally finds her voice again and pulls on my arm.

"Oh, come on," her mom says. "Don't be like that."

"You two snuck up on us!"

"We just happened to be on our way home," Eliza says, flicking Veronica's nose. "You're headed home, too, aren't you? That means John's staying for dinner with us, right?"

"That's not how you ask, you know?" Veronica says under her breath.

"Come on," Veronica's mom says. "You were hiding him for so long and now I can see why. Honestly, such a handsome young man."

If possible, I blush a little more. I look up at Veronica, and even though she is doing her best to look pissed, I can see a glint of eagerness in her eyes.

"I'll have to call home to let my Mom know," I say.

And just like that, everything is settled. Eliza and Candace ride on ahead, leaving Veronica and I on the sidewalk to resume our walk.

"That was..." I stammer.

"Weird, I know," Veronica completes. "I get that a lot."

"I was gonna say fun, but okay; it was weird too." I tell her, giving her my best smile.

"Are you sure you want to have dinner with those monsters?"

"Hey, I was uncomfortable for a minute or two, but your mom seems a lot funnier than mine."

A few minutes later Veronica opens the front door of her house and pulls me inside. And this is when I realize that the whisperer I'm dating lives in a pink castle exactly like one I have imagined. To be fair, not much in the room is actually pink, but the walls are kind of overwhelming in that way. There's a huge white sofa dominating the living room, probably big enough to accommodate four people, and that is where Princess Candace currently reigns in front of a big white TV, remote in hand, her curvy legs propped on top of a—you guessed it—a white coffee table.

"Hey, look!" she shrieks, chucking the remote against a white throw pillow. "The boyfriend has arrived!"

"His name is John," Veronica says, "just so you know."

"Chill, Ronnie," Candace snaps, though her smug smile never falters. "Be a nice host and get him something to drink." Then she turns to me again. "And you, cute boyf... err, John. Come sit with me and get comfortable."

I perch on the edge of the sofa, as far away from Candace as I can get, while Veronica leaves the room. I don't have time to think about conversation topics because only a nano-second passes before Candace speaks again.

"You're her first," she says, her voice now cold and serious. "Don't mess it up."

"I'm not planning to." As intimidating as Veronica's sister is, she still can't hold a candle to my mother.

"I'm serious." Her eyes are ice stakes through my own. "I'll snap you in half like a twig if you break her heart."

"I get it; don't worry."

"Hope so." And then her face morphs back to her regular feisty one. "So, when did you guys become a real thing?'

Wait. Does this mean she knew we weren't? And if she knows that, what else does she know? I try to even out my voice before I reply.

"Since May 4th."

"Huh." She looks ahead at the TV, biting lightly on a long, red fingernail. "I guess my sister and I haven't talked much lately."

So, they're that close. I don't know if this is a surprise or not. I mean, Veronica always compares herself to her big sister, but could that be out of respect instead of plain jealousy? Candace quickly notices my confusion. "What? Don't you have ice cream weekends with your siblings?"

"You mean my cousins, and that'd be a no."

"Right. Cousins. One of them is Martin, right? The one in the same classroom as you?" I nod, obviously surprised. She knows a lot more than I expected, which kind of makes me nervous for some reason. "Ronnie keeps saying he's very much like me, but younger."

"Well. To be honest, that sounds like a bit of an insult to you."

"How come?"

"The kid is no pushover. I mean, he knows what he wants and goes for it, but often blindly, and without a second thought for whatever, or whoever, might be standing in the way. He doesn't really think about consequences."

"That doesn't sound like a real problem to me."

"It is when you're drawn into the vortex alongside him, especially if you're like me and like to lay low."

"Jesus, you sound just like Ronnie," she says, and deflates, sinking deeper in the couch. "And to think I spent all of last year telling her she would never find someone as boring and uninteresting as her. No offense."

"None taken. You'll soon learn I relish my boring and uninteresting nature." Then I realize we've gone off-topic. "Veronica has a point, though. Talking to you does feel a lot like talking to Martin."

"Dang right!" Veronica storms the room, pushing Candace's legs off the coffee table and setting a tray with four glasses along with a big jar of something that looks like iced tea. "He's trouble more times than not. Not unlike you, Candy."

"Stop trying to undersell me in front of John, girl!"

Mrs. Holt appears a moment later with a tray of snacks.

"But she's right, though, Candy. You're a girl-shaped tornado."

"What?! You too? Whose side are you on, Mom?!"

Eliza sets the tray in front of us and sits on a matching white armchair. "Well, you clearly inherited that from your mother, after all."

It's no wonder Veronica feels like the odd person out in this family. It would make more sense if she just adapted and lived her life like another little tornado, but then I guess there wouldn't be anyone to balance things up. Especially since there's no sign of any dad around, an observation that's been bothering me. But I wait until Candace and Eliza head off to cook and I'm left alone with Veronica. And when I'm sure we are out of earshot, I can't help but blurt it.

"What about your father, Veronica?"

"What about him?"

"You've never mentioned him."

"That's because my parents divorced a couple years ago," she explains, wearing an easy smile like none of this is a big deal. Then she picks Candace's phone up from the white coffee table and browses through it until she finds a photo of him to show me. "Here he is: Arthur Holt."

Sure enough, the man in the picture has the same gray eyes as Veronica's, but it's the younger girls in the picture which capture my attention more.

"Wait, which one is you?" I say, pointing at both girls.

"That's Candace," Veronica says. "I'm the small blob clinging to Dad's leg."

"Astonishing. You're were even more alike then."

"Yeah..."

"I know you don't like to be compared but..."

"It's fine, John." She takes a second to examine the picture herself with a sad smile, like there's no option but to admit defeat. "I guess we do look alike."

"Only on the outside, though." I take the phone from her and place it back on the table before picking up both of her hands in mine. "And to be fair, that's not such a bad prospect."

"Hah! I knew you liked Candace," she snarls, now with a smug smile.

"Look at it like this: I'm dating the smartest and kindest girl on earth, who also happened to be born with the genes to make her the hottest woman in town."

She laughs. "You're just digging yourself into a deeper grave, John."

"Good. Because I know I'm dead in love with you."

We smile at each other for a second, but her lips are fidgeting. They're too distracting to leave alone, so I wrap her in my arms and kiss her just like we did earlier on the sidewalk. She pulls back just a little for a moment, and I see her beautiful eyes glance towards the kitchen. Then, much to my surprise, she lifts up her middle finger in that direction before kissing me again.

We hear Candace and Eliza giggle like little kids, and then comes the sound of their footsteps scuttling back into the kitchen.