14. Mary #2
“No, you’re not,” he repeats, a little firmer this time. “They joke because it’s easy. Not because it’s true.”
I shift my weight, because now I feel like a jerk because he’s all in on this.
“I mean, you did just stand there and hold something steady for me without moving,” he adds, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “That already puts you ahead of most people.”
A small smile slips out before I can stop it.
“That’s a very low bar. Plus, I did move, remember?”
“Only a smidge.” He presses his thumb and forefinger together. “Still counts.”
Damn it, Luke.
This is exactly why I came here. I knew he’d listen. I knew he’d be on my side. I just didn’t expect him to be this supportive. It makes what I’m about to do feel worse somehow.
The thing is, I’m not actually bothered by the jokes at the diner.
Not really. They’re easy and familiar. Safe in a way that doesn’t ask anything from me.
I’m digging deep into how things are with my dad for this.
It’s the way he still looks at me like I’m about five seconds away from needing supervision.
Like I can’t make a decision without it somehow becoming a problem.
And somehow, that’s followed me. I’m method acting right now.
Which means Luke doesn’t actually know what he’s agreeing to help me fix.
I’m committed now, though. There’s no backing out without it being obvious, and I’ve come too far for that. I’m definitely going to hell.
When all of this is done, I’m taking him out to dinner. That feels like the bare minimum. I glance away again, the smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I just want them to see me differently, I guess.”
A breath passes between us. Then something changes in his expression, interest sparking in his eyes.
“How differently?” he asks.
I blink. “What?”
“How differently do you want them to see you?” he repeats, a little more intent now. “Because there’s ‘stop calling you the baby’ and then there’s making a point.”
It makes me feel worse that this is so easy.
I hesitate. “I don’t need to make a point.”
He gives me a look.
I sigh. “Okay, maybe a small point.”
“Right,” he says, like that confirms something. “Then we don’t just tell them. We show them.”
That should probably concern me, but it doesn’t.
“What does that mean?” I ask, even though there’s already a small, nervous sort of curiosity building in my chest. His mouth tilts slightly. Not a full smile. More the expression he gets right before one of his ideas becomes everyone else’s problem.
“It means,” he says, “we give them something else to talk about.”
And just like that I have a feeling I didn’t come here with a plan. But I might be leaving with one.
“You want them to stop seeing you as the baby,” he says, watching me carefully. “Then don’t ask them to. Show them.”
I breathe out slowly, buying myself a second before I respond. “How?”
He huffs out a quiet breath, already thinking. “I don’t know. Something that gets their attention. Something they don’t expect from you.”
I nod slowly, like I’m considering it for the first time.
“She loves true crime,” I say after a second, like it’s just something that slipped into my head. “And superheroes.”
His brow furrows slightly. “Who does?”
Shit. I’ve been speaking about all the girls, but now I’ve slipped up. “Dannica,” I say, a little too quickly. “I think I should start with her. Dannica is the easiest. She’s always talking about documentaries and cases and that kind of thing.”
He goes still for half a second, then it’s like a lightbulb goes off over his head and something clicks into place.
His mouth tilts, just slightly. “All right,” he says slowly. “I’ve got an idea.”
I don’t say anything. I wait because I know what he’s going to say.
“Let’s prank her.”
Do not fist bump, Mary, don’t you dare. I knew he would settle on a prank. When we were younger, we used to prank people all the time. Especially his mom. She would fall for it hook, line, and sinker.
I rub my hands together. “I knew I came to the right place. What do you have in mind?”
“What about a fake mugging?”
I blink. “A what?” Even though this is exactly where I wanted this to go, I didn’t expect it to go dark this quickly. I shouldn’t be surprised though, since we’ve always kind of had a hive mind situation going on.
“Not real,” he adds quickly. As if I didn’t cotton on to the word ‘fake’. “Just staged. Someone grabs her bag, makes a bit of a scene. Enough to get everyone’s attention.”
I let a second pass, like I’m processing it. “And then?”
“And then you handle it,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You don’t panic. You don’t freeze. You step in, take control, stop it.”
Me.
Of course he’d think that. To Luke, this is about me proving something. And now all this feels a lot more real than it did five minutes ago. “You think I could pull that off?”
He doesn’t even pause. “Yeah. I do.”
That shouldn’t make me feel as relieved as it does. And the guilt just deepens.
I nod slowly. “Okay. Yeah. That could work.”
It will work. Just not the way he thinks. Because I can’t take the credit for rescuing Dannica, not if Dannica is going to be a true damsel in distress. No, Mystery Man needs to rescue her. The whole reason for this plan.
I need to go to church on Sunday.
“Okay,” I say, like I’m still just thinking it through. “Then we should probably rehearse it.”
Luke blinks. “Rehearse it?”
“Yeah.” I nod, like that’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If we’re going to do this, it should look real. Not awkward-real. Actually real.”
He studies me for a second. “Why do we need to rehearse?”
“Because,” I say, keeping my tone light, “you’re going to be the mugger.”
There’s a long pause.
“I’m what?”
“The mugger,” I repeat, like it’s already decided. “It makes the most sense. You know how it’s supposed to go, you can control how it plays out, and,” I shrug slightly, “we want this prank to go perfectly, right?”
He doesn’t answer straight away. Just looks at me, like he’s trying to figure out how he got assigned that role without noticing.
“I don’t know, Mary…”
I tilt my head slightly, pouting just a little. “You owe me.”
That gets his attention. His eyes narrow a little. “For what, exactly?”