Fantasizing about him just disappearing to a safe place where he wasn’t injured but couldn’t bother me? Yes.
But actual murder? No.
“Okay, I’ve had enough,” Annie announced and dropped her napkin onto the table. “What’s going on, Lola? Even for you, you’re acting weird, and that’s saying something.”
“Nothing,” I lied.
“Lola, honey, you seem a little upset,” my mother added. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
“A little upset, Deb?” my dad chimed in. “Our daughter just took half the bowl of mashed potatoes, and now she appears to be performing some sort of satanic ritual on your baked chicken. Which is delicious, by the way,” he added with a mouthful of half-eaten poultry as proof.
“What’s a salantic ritual?” Lucy, my youngest niece, asked.
“Just a little something adults do when they’re thinking about taking a cruise, Luce,” Brian, my brother-in-law, answered.
“Ohh!” Emma, my oldest niece, exclaimed. “I want to do a salantic ritual!”
“You have to get it approved by the president first, sweetheart,” Brian responded, and Annie rolled her eyes. Her husband always used the most ridiculous scenarios to get out of difficult conversations with their kids. And “getting approval from the president” was one of his go-tos.
Emma wants a puppy? Sorry, sweetie, but we have to get the president’s approval first.
Henry wants to download the Pokémon Go app to his iPod? Sorry, buddy, but that has to go through Congress first.
Annie and Brian’s kids currently had 300 pending approvals from the United States government.
“Seriously, Lola, stop stabbing the chicken. It’s weird,” Annie said and I glared at her.
“If I want to stab my chicken, I’ll stab my chicken. You’re not the boss of me.”
Annie pointed her fork in my direction. “I’m about to stab you.”
My mother clapped her hands twice. “Girls!”
Uh-oh, Deb was getting angry. If her claps were the equivalent of a traffic light, we’d reached the yellow light seconds before it turned red.
“I want to stab someone!” Henry shouted.
“Gotta get that approved by the president first, buddy.”
Oh. My. God. I was one Annie glare and Brian “president approval” comment away from my brain exploding.
“Spill it, Lola,” my dad demanded. “Tell your sister what’s going on before she starts talking with that awful, high-pitched shrieking noise none of us can stand.”
“Dad!” Annie screeched. “I do not sound like that!”
My dad winced. “For the love of God, tell your sister why you’re currently showing homicidal tendencies toward your dinner before my eardrums burst.”
“Fine.” I slammed my hands down onto the table. “I hate Reed. I mean, I really, really hate him. “
“Everyone hates weeds, Lo.”
“Not weeds, Dad,” I corrected with a sigh. “Reed. He’s an actual person, not vegetation. Reed Luca. He is trying to ruin my life.”
Annie’s brow furrowed. “Wait…is this that guy who posted the YouTube video about your column?”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “You saw that?”
“Pretty sure everyone saw that,” she retorted. “It has, like, ten million views.”
“It has ten million views now?” Now it was my turn to screech, and the fact that my dad was covering his ears proved I was doing it effectively.
“It was up to twelve million when I watched it,” Brian added.
“Are you talking about that video with the handsome boy who doesn’t like Lola’s column?” my mother asked before tsking, “Though, that smoking is an awful habit.”
“Yep,” Annie kindly answered to keep this topic of conversation going.
Seriously, sometimes sisters were a huge pain in the ass.
“Oh, when I watched it on your dad’s laptop, it was up to fifteen million views,” my mom said with a smile. “I can’t believe my little Lola is so popular that she’s getting videos made about her.”
“Mom,” I said through gritted teeth. “He wasn’t saying nice things about me in his video.”
“I’ll be honest,” she responded, and her cheeks started to flush pink. “I had a hard time focusing on what that boy was saying. His eyes are just so…blue.”
My eyes narrowed. “Are you blushing?”
“No.” She waved me off with her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh my God, Mom!” I exclaimed and promptly removed my butter knife from my chicken and pointed it in her direction. “You’re blushing! Over a guy who posted a YouTube video about how much he hates my column.”