James pulled into a strip mall. They passed a nail salon then parked in front of a restaurant with a blazing red neon sign in the window proclaiming 'SUSHI'.

Martha's excitement was hard to contain. "Are we... I didn't think..."

"What? That we hillbillies had heard of sushi?"

"No, I mean... Oh, this is awesome!" She unbuckled her seatbelt before James had turned off the engine. They got out of the car and he followed her in.

"Irrashaimase!" the staff shouted. A line of four seat tables ran the wall on Martha and James' right. A sushi bar glowed on their left.

Martha found a seat at the bar and James took the next. She ordered two yellowtail sushi and a spicy tuna roll. He ordered tuna and salmon sushi and a California roll. Behind and above the chefs was a television. The Chicago Bulls were playing the Los Angeles Clippers.

"Check it out," James said and motioned to the screen. "Your team's playing my team."

Martha stopped eating and stared at him blankly.

"What?" he asked.

"I grow up with the greatest franchise in all of sports and you think I'd choose to be a Clippers fan?" she scolded.

"Who are you talking about... the Kings?" he teased.

"Shut up, you know who I mean."

"Oh, the Lakers," James said. "So... did that make you feel better after we crushed you in '91 – telling yourself they're the 'greatest franchise in all of sports?'"

"Are you serious?" Martha felt the argument become gloriously heated. "Magic was old. Worthy was old. Kareem was gone. Congrats on crushing the Elden Campbell led Lakers."

"Go ahead. Say it."

Martha dipped a yellowtail in soy sauce, stuffed it in her mouth, and savored the moment as the wasabi traveled her sinuses. She swallowed then stated, "They never would have beaten the Lakers in their prime."

James scoffed and shook his head. "But no one played defense in the 80's! It's half of the game – and no one played it – not until the Pistons. And then what happened?"

Martha rolled her eyes and took another yellowtail.

"They beat the Lakers with Kareem – swept them actually. And then the Bulls beat the Pistons. Transitive property... Bulls over Lakers."

Martha shook her head vigorously. "Nope. Sorry. Using math in a sports debate disqualifies your argument." She reached across with her chopsticks and lifted a piece of tuna off his plate. "And you forfeit one of these." He relented with a slight smile and shake of the head as she ate his sushi. She shrugged and spoke with her mouth full of rice and fish, "I d'oh mate the roos."

The arrow turned from red to green and James took the left onto Martha's street. She felt like such a cliché. Freaking butterflies? Ridiculous. But this had been a date. She was certain. James had asked her on a date, taken her on a date, and was currently driving her home from that date.

James parked in front of Martha's house. Her heart pounded.

"I can walk you up," James said.

"Okay." They left the car and walked up the driveway. She was mildly disappointed, hoping the date would end – with whatever that might entail – in the car. There was still potential at the door, but the lights of the house were on and it was always a possibility that...

The front door opened. The porch light revealed her father's dopey smile. Of course, Martha thought.

"Hey, guys. Welcome back!"

Please don't invite him in.

"James, why don't you come in and hang out for a while? I'd really like to meet Martha's special new friend."
Martha closed her eyes and took a breath to quell the patricidal rage.

"Love to, Mr. Beckett."

"Please. Call me Steven."

"Love to, Steven."

James entered as Steven held the door. Martha followed, giving her father a scowl Steph Jenkins would be proud of. Once inside, Steven sat in an armchair and James and Martha on the couch – safely two feet apart.

"Nice hat," Steven said.

Martha chuckled and said, "Yeah. Real nice."

Steven aimed a confused expression at James.

"I will be attending UC Berkeley next fall," James clarified.

"Really?" Steven said. "What an extraordinary coincidence. Did you know that Martha-"

"Yeah, I told him."

Despite Martha throwing cold water on the news, Steven appeared thrilled. She hadn't given him any details about James and finding out he would be attending a prestigious university was clearly exciting. "Well, it's very impressive, James. Do you know in what you're going to major?"

"Physics."

"No kidding?"

"Yeah, and I want to say that it's really cool that you work at Fermilab."

"You know, I could leave," Martha interjected. "I feel like I'm getting in the way of your bonding." She didn't care to be pleasant. Her prospects had changed considerably in the last five minutes and her father was at constant risk of embarrassing her in front of her 'special new friend.'

"Martha, don't be silly," Steven said. "Okay, fine. How was the game? Did we win?"

"Not sure," James said. "It was freezing, so we left early."

"Yeah," Martha said with a sudden tinge of enthusiasm. "James took me to a sushi restaurant. It was awesome. But then he tried to tell me that the Bulls could beat the Lakers in their prime."

"Ha! Big mistake," Steven laughed.

"As I found out," James said.

"Did you know, James, that Martha is a very talented basketball player herself?"

"Dad," Martha protested.

"No, I did not," James said, eyebrows raised to Martha.

"She was the starting shooting guard on her sophomore team." He turned to Martha. "Why don't you go get one of your yearbooks. They should be up in one of the boxes in your room."

"Please," James said to Martha. He lowered his head and raised his eyebrows. "Please?"

She rolled her eyes and stood. "Fine."

"Excellent," Steven said triumphantly. "So, tell me about your parents. Do they work in the field of physics?"

Martha reached the stairs and started to climb.

"No. My mom's a law clerk and my dad's down in Florida. He's between..."

She made it to the second floor and entered her room. It was clear she'd broken her promise to obstruct assimilation as the room was more or less put together. Her Black Flag, Green Day, and Albert Einstein posters were tacked to the wall along with a framed photo of herself and her two best friends in California and another of her three year old self sitting with the Easter Bunny. Little Martha's smile was so unequivocal and goofy that it always made present day Martha smile. Her desk was made in the corner complete with her Macintosh II. Next to the desk, against the wall were the three remaining unemptied boxes.

Martha opened one full of books and there, mixed among the science and literature, were her yearbooks. She lifted the sophomore addition and the nostalgia hit her stomach. The purple hardcover and golden print were enough to awaken a carefully repressed longing. She steeled herself then left her room with the book.

As Martha came to the top of the stairs, the conversation below became audible. The second floor lights were off, giving her cover so she decided to sit on a midlevel step and eavesdrop.

Her father, facing her from the opposite end of the living room, was speaking. "...and it broke my heart how devastated she was. Because all I want in life is for Martha to be happy and-"

"Mr. Beckett?" James interrupted.

"Steven."

"Sorry. Steven. Can I make a suggestion?"

"You may."

"I would stop saying that."

Steven frowned and cocked his head to the side. "Saying what?"

"That all you want is for her to be happy."

Yes! Thank you, Martha thought.

There was silence for a moment then Steven said, "I don't understand."

"Well... Happiness is a tricky puzzle – for any of us – let alone a teenage girl, so you're putting a great deal of pressure on her." There was another pause. Martha never knew why she hated the statement so much. James' words rang true. Steven stared at the coffee table in front of him. Martha couldn't see James' face. He continued, "On top of that, her happiness and your happiness depend on her. You're putting the weight of both on her shoulders."

Steven maintained his pensive gaze for a moment then looked up and said, "Thank you, James. I had never considered that... But I think you are correct." Martha watched her father's face stifle an emotion. "It hasn't been easy... for me." He paused to swallow. "After... what happened to her mother..."

James quickly turned his head to make eye contact with Martha. The suddenness of the move startled her and she dropped the yearbook. It slid down the stairs and landed with a thud. She stood and hurried down. "Sorry... Slipped out of my hand."

"There you are," James said.

Steven cleared his throat then said, "Great. Looks like you found one."

"Lemme see. Lemme see," James said anxiously.

Martha sat on the couch next to James and opened the yearbook. Another wave of nostalgia hit her, though sitting next to James tempered it considerably. She flipped to her picture. Her hair was big and her smile was crooked, but her eyes were happy. They didn't know she would be leaving the following year.

"Nice!" James said.

"Whatever."

"I'm serious. I think I like your hair better now, but it's not a bad picture. You should see mine when I still had braces."

"Show him the basketball picture – the action shot," Steven said.

Martha flipped to the athletics section and found the page for girls basketball. There she was – mid-air, arm extended and about to finish a fast break layup. The picture made her smile in spite of herself.

"That is so cool," James said. "Air Martha." She scoffed. James corrected himself. "Oh, right. My bad. I mean... Magic Beckett. That better?"

"Whatever." Martha's eyes moved from the layup to the team photo. The majority of the team stood in a row while Martha and another girl posed on one knee in front. Though the photos were black and white, her memories were technicolor. Steven too smiled at the thought of happier times and a happier daughter.

"James is on the varsity team," Martha said.

"Is he?" Steven said. "We'll have to come see a game."

"Please do. We can use all the support we can get." James looked at his watch. "But I should probably get going."

"What? Why?" Martha asked.

James stood and answered, "It's late. I told my mom I was just going to the game, so she'll be expecting me."

Steven held out his hand. "Very nice to meet you, James."

James took the hand. "You as well, Steven."

Martha sat, unsure what to do. She'd somehow forgotten the evening would end and now it was ending rapidly. Could she offer to walk him to his car? No, that would be stupid and obvious. She opted to stand, wipe her hand on her jeans, and hold it out for an awkwardly formal handshake. "Thanks for taking me to the game and the sushi and everything."

"No problem." He slapped her hand then made a fist. It took her a second, but she matched him and they bumped as friends. "I had a great time." He walked to the door. "See you Monday, Martha." As he left the home, he stated quickly, "Jordan would average sixty a night, bye."

Steven closed the door with a chuckle. "Well. He is something."

"Yeah," Martha agreed. She stared past her father to the door, lost in thought. She had no idea how to define the night. Maybe it was a date. Maybe they were just friends. Maybe he wanted to meet her Fermilab engineer father.

"I'm happy that you have him as a friend."

"Yeah," she repeated absently.

Steven walked to her and gave her a hug. It was unsolicited and firmer than usual. Before she had time to analyze, judge, or reject her father's comfort, Martha found herself reciprocating. After a moment and a half, they released. "Come on," he said. "Letterman's starting. I'll make the popcorn."

Martha nodded and turned on the television.

Author's note:

So what do you think?  Date?  Not a date?  To call James' signals mixed would be an understatement.  They're more like puréed!

Totally 90's detail:  Michael Jordan's Bulls are the greatest team in the history of the NBA.  This is a fact, not an opinion (sorry not sorry, Martha).