Chapter 9-Hudson
Matty and I have been playing in multiplayer mode on my new racing game for hours. Mr. Tate is supposed to come get us so we can help him barbecue.
It’s hard to sit still when I get excited. Mom always bakes with me but today I get to grill like one of the men with those big metal tongs and the big fire coming out of the grill.
Matty’s stomach growls loudly. He rubs his belly but doesn’t say anything. Matty’s always polite and never asks for much. Mom says it’s my job to take care of my guests though by making sure they know where the bathroom is and offering food and blankets.
“Come on. Mom always makes pancakes on her birthday. I have to bring her the card I made her too.” I toss my controller down and Matty follows me.
Moms favourite Christmas song-a-longs blare through the house when I open my bedroom door.
I make a face at Matty.
“Sorry. She always does that.”
“I like it.” Matty shrugs.
I smile at him. He’s a good friend.
We walk down the stairs side by side until I see Mr. Tate through the archway of the kitchen.
I slap my hand against Matty’s chest before we are even halfway down.
“Ouch, what was that for?” He rubs his chest. I shush him with my finger over my mouth like our teacher Mrs. Whitmore does.
I pull him down to crouch behind the stair railing. We watch through the posts as Tate starts twirling my mom around the kitchen, her pretty hair spinning all around.
Matty leans over me to get a better look. His eyes are probably as wide as mine.
“I’ve never seen my dad dance like that before.” He whispers.
“Really?” I whisper too so they don’t hear us. “My mom dances all the time, but my dad never danced with her.”
I twist my lips to the side when an idea pops up in my mind. I grab Matty and drag him back upstairs.
Pancakes can wait; this is more important.
I close my bedroom door behind us and continue dragging him into the fort. I tighten our blanket door shut so they can’t hear us outside.
“Matty. I think your dad likes my mom.”
“I think your mom likes my dad too.” Matty nods along like a bobble head.
“They like-like each other.” I say trying to make him understand my idea. “You know what that means?”
“Yeah, he’s probably gonna ask her if he can hug her.”
“If our parents like- like each other then we can get them to fall in love! Then they will get married and we can be brothers!” I whisper-yell at him. We both are the only child and it’s boring. “Plus, you always say you wish you had a mom like mine. And I like your dad better than mine.”
“Okay. We need to plan.”
We are trying to figure out what kind of things grownups even like to do together on dates when the doorbell rings three fast times.
“Oh, that’s Uncle Ronan’s signal. He always rings it three times, so I know it’s him.” We race downstairs together. Mom pulls the door shut but not before I see Dad standing on the step behind her.
“We need a plan. Quick.”