"I want you to know that this isn't filled with water," I shouted as I feverishly pumped my super-soaker.

My Mom peeked her head up through the entrance to the attic. She had straightened her light, brown hair and put on her nicest pair of glasses. For some reason she always tried to look her best when she had to work night shifts at the Surgical Hospital, even though by the time she was done she was completely disheveled.

"Can't we talk about this without resulting to violence?" My Mom asked.

"Never," I cried, and blasted a hot stream of Mellow Yellow right past her. Mom was quick to duck, and I could hear her sigh of relief to learn that my super-soaker wasn't filled with a worse yellow liquid.

One of my Mom's hands rose through the entrance to the attic, and in it she was holding a sock.

"Truce, truce!" She said, waving her white flag back and forth. "Can I come up and talk without getting a mouthful of Mountain Dew?"

"It's Mellow Yellow," I said, "and we have nothing to talk about."

Very slowly, my Mom peeked back up once more, "I know I raised you to be nicer than this."

It's true, she did, but this was different. This was a declaration of war.

"I'm not going to Carl's Birthday Party and that's final." I fired a second warning shot just to let her know I meant business.

My mother, bless her heart, started giving me a lecture. She loved to give me long and heart-felt lectures designed with the specific purpose of making me feel guilty.

"Carl's Mom called me and told me that Carl is having a hard time making friends in sixth grade, so she had the lovely idea to invite the entire class over for a sleepover. There's going to be pizza and cake and Nintendo Forty-Six!"

"Sixty-Four."

"Right, Nintendo Sixty-Four! Your entire class is going to be there, and that way you can all get to know each other a little better and maybe Carl can make a friend or two. You could be the first friend he has. Doesn't that sound like a nice thing to do?"

"Mom, you can be a real dummy. If I become friends with Carl my life is over."

Carl Dunn was the last person you wanted to be associated with, everybody in sixth grade knew that. He was two inches too short and twenty inches too wide. He was the only kid in our grade whose parents hadn't given him "the talk" about wearing deodorant, so he stunk up the place everywhere he went. Carl was the perfect target for bullies, and they took every opportunity they could to make his life hell, especially when they were being led on by our school's cruelest sixth grader, Billy Ball. Sometimes during lunch, when Carl was sitting by himself in the cafeteria, Billy and the boys would encircle him and start taking big gulps from their milk cartons. They'd say, "Mmm, isn't milk so good," and they'd point at Carl's chest and ask if they could have some of the milk from his "gigantic man boobs."

It was ruining Carl's life. Carl couldn't even eat in the cafeteria anymore, he'd just bring something from home and eat it in the library or a bathroom stall, anywhere Billy couldn't find him.

That was the birthday my mom wanted me to attend. That was who she wanted me to become friends with.

"I can understand why you're worried," Mom said, "but that's why Carl's Mom invited the entire class. Nobody has to feel singled out if all of you are there."

That was the type of response I'd expect from a parent who had no idea how mean other sixth graders could be. Carl's Mom came up with a fool-proof plan? What could possibly go wrong?

Millions. Millions of things could go wrong.

What if Carl's Mom accidentally invited some of Carl's bullies? What if the pizza sucked or the cake was gross? What if the whole party was awkward and only made people dislike Carl more? So many many things could and would go wrong, and I didn't want to be there to see it all unfold, let alone spend the night there.

I started pumping my super-soaker slowly to let my Mom know I meant business.

"I won't. I'll stay in the attic all night. I'll live up here for the rest of my life if I have to."

"You'll run out of Mellow Yellow eventually."

"I can always make more."

"Honey, don't be gross."

"You're the one being gross! Making me hang out with that fat loser!"

"Vincent Matthew Alexander. We do not name-call in this household."

"We do if they deserve it!"

Mom took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. I hated getting on her nerves like this, especially before an overnight shift, but she wasn't giving me any options. I had to put my foot down or there was no telling what she'd try to get me to do next. I really really didn't want to go to Carl's Birthday Sleepover. I wished saying that was enough for my Mom, but ever since Dad passed away she had made it her personal mission to make the world a kinder place. She saw how sad Dad's death made me, and she wanted to make the world a nicer place.

"What if we have a little wager," Mom said, "you know that game on Nintendo you love?"

"Super Smash Bros?" I asked, not sure where my Mom was going with this.

"I'll make a deal with you. If you can beat me at Super Smash Guys, then I'll let you stay home. I'll order you a pizza and let you rent whatever movie you want, even if it's R-rated."

"Are you being serious?!"

"But! If I can manage to beat you, then you will suck it up, you will go to Carl's Birthday, and you will try your best to be friends with him. Does that sound fair?"

I tossed my super-soaker, ran over, and extended my hand.

"You're on, Old Lady."

We shook on it, and my Mom and I raced down downstairs to where my Nintendo 64 was. I couldn't help but feel blessed. My Mom was the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful person I knew. I think she realized that I didn't want to go to Carl's Birthday, so she gave me an easy out. This way we could both end our argument with our heads held high.

I flipped on the N64, grabbed the bright red, first-place controller, and handed my Mom the Mad-Catz.

"Oh, honey, can't Mommy have the good controller? I'll need every advantage I can to beat you."

She's right. What did I have to be afraid of? I traded controllers with my Mom and started to think about the R-rated movie I would rent. I already knew the answer. South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut. My Mom would never let me South Park, but if I beat her fair and square she would have to. Afterall, we shook on it.

"Okay," Mom said, cycling through the start menus quicker than I could follow, "what if we play three stock, no time limit, at Hyrule Castle, but with no items? Does that sound good?"

Wait. Wait a second. What did she just say?

"Uh-yeah-that sounds fine."

"I hope you don't mind, honey, but I want to be Star Fox."

Damn. I'm always Star Fox, but picking the same fighter as my Mom would be cowardly. No, this is fine. I'll be Mario. I can still beat my Mom with my second choice.

My Mom clicked start before I even had a chance to change Mario's color, and the announcer came on and said, "Star Fox. Versus. Mario." The countdown began before I even had a second to take a breath. "Three. Two. One. GO!"

What happened next was so incredibly embarrassing I can't even begin to describe it. I lost for sure, but it was so much worse than that.

I was annihilated. I didn't even manage to take a single one of my Mom's lives. I'd have thrown my controller if I wasn't paralyzed by shock.

"Yes, I won! That means you'll go to the party. Hurry up and get ready, or you're going to be late."

"What. The heck. Just happened."

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Mommy's been practicing against computers while you're at school. I knew that one day it would come in handy, and it looks like it did."

"I can't-I won't-I'm not-"

My Mom waved her finger in my face and shook her head.

"Not so fast, Mister. We shook on it, remember?"

I had no choice. While still dumbstruck by what happened, I grabbed a change of clothes and stuffed it in my backpack with my toothbrush and deodorant. Mom was already waiting for me in the car.

On the drive over, Mom kept trying to hype me up for the birthday.

"Look, I know that this isn't how you wanted to spend your Friday night. I think that maybe you're scared what people will think of you if you go to Carl's Birthday. I get it. It's okay to be scared, but I think if you go outside your comfort zone every now and then you might surprise yourself and actually have some fun."

"I pray that Brayden and Mark are there. I don't know if I'll survive otherwise."

"Don't be so dramatic. It's one night, and I'll come and pick you up in the morning. You're doing a very nice thing for Carl. His Mom and I really appreciate it.

Mom parked the car outside a small, green house, and handed me a small present wrapped in purple paper with a yellow bow.

"What's this?" I asked.

"You can't show up to a birthday without a present. Don't worry, Carl's Mom said he'd love it."

I grabbed the present and my bag, but stayed seated in the car. I breathed in and out a few times. I wished I had stayed up in the attic. Maybe if I hadn't been overconfident I could have found a way out of this.

My Mom put her hand on my shoulder, and leaned in and gave me a kiss on the side of my head.

"You're gonna be fine, Vince." She unbuckled my seatbelt and reached over and opened the door. "Off you go, or I'm gonna be late for work. I love you, honey."

"I love you too, Mom."

I hopped out of the car and walked slowly up to Carl's door. I knocked softly three times, but nobody answered, so I knocked a little harder. I heard the lock twist, then the door opened, and Carl was standing there with a scowl on his face.

"Hey, Vince, glad you could make it."

"Hey, Carl, happy birthday, man." I held up the present for him, and he took it and immediately ripped off the wrapping paper revealing a Red Bionicle.

"Cool, but I already have this one. You can keep it." Carl tossed the Bionicle back to me and started to walk away. I was taken aback by how unenthused he was about his present, so I quickly put the Bionicle in my backpack and followed after him to see what had put him in such a sour mood.

"So, Carl," I said, "where is everybody else? I thought the whole class was invited."

"This is it."

"What do you mean?"

"You're the only person who showed up."