The hostess wore a black polo and matching pants. Val liked the outfit; it was one of those simple ensembles that could be digested in a single glance, leaving the eyes free to admire the rest of its surroundings. “Welcome to Cibo Del Mare,” the hostess greeted, “May I find you a table?”
“Yes please,” Val smiled at the woman, a middle-aged brunette with kind brown eyes, “I have some friends meeting me, so could I get a table for six?”
“Sure,” the hostess wrote something on a paper on the pedestal she was standing behind, “Do you want to leave your name for the other guests who will be arriving?”
“Oh, of course. Valentina.” Val paused, should I give her my last name? She’d never reserved a table before, and so was unschooled on the etiquette. “Valentina Hunter,” she said; the hostess nodded and wrote down her last name as well, “I can seat you now if you wish.”
That seemed boring, but waiting in the lobby didn’t appear to be any less so. “Please,” Val smiled at the woman.
“Alright, follow me.” The hostess grabbed a menu and swept down a pathway to a back corner; she pointed to a booth that looked like it would be a tight squeeze for Val and her friends, “Will this be alright?”
“Sure.”
“Great! I’ll send your friends back when they arrive. And would you like to order an appetizer now or—?”
Val frowned, “Yeah, but—“ she looked at the menu still in the hostess’ hand, “I don’t know what appetizers are available. What do you recommend?”
“The calamari’s really good. It comes with cocktail sauce and we offer a special light batter if you want a healthier choice.”
“Hmm, I guess I’ll have that.” Val sat down, “Will it be enough for six people?”
“I’ll put in two orders.” The hostess pulled out a pad, “Would you like the light batter?”
“Yes please.”
The waitress scribbled the order down, “Oh, and also, I’m sorry to have to do this, but is it alright if I take your card before the meal? It’s our policy.”
Val was taken aback, “You make people pay before they eat? Isn’t that kinda—unusual?”
“Well, we don’t do it for everyone. Just our—younger clients. You understand, of course. A lot of the kids think it’s ‘cool’ to eat and leave without paying.”
Val sighed, “Alright.” She pulled out her card and handed it to the hostess, “But how will I know how much the meal costs?”
“We’ll bring you a check to sign before you go. This is just to make sure you have the funds to cover—“ The hostess smiled, “No matter, I’m sure everything will go through just fine.”
As busy as she was with her discussion with the hostess, Val didn’t notice Alex’s loud voice until her friends were almost at the booth; “I’m telling you, they aren’t gonna care if we just seat ourselves. It’s your dad’s restaurant, what are they gonna do, kick you out?”
“Well that’s a good point, but I still don’t feel like—“ Steven looked pained for some reason, “My dad’s made it clear we’re supposed to act like normal patrons when we come here.”
The hostess turned to Alex, Keenan, and their three comrades, “Hello, there. Who are—?” Her eyes alit upon Steven, “Ah, I see, Mr. Saunders. How are you this afternoon?” It was strange to hear an adult address one of her peers as ‘Mr.’, but Val supposed it made sense, if she’d interpreted Alex and Steven’s conversation correctly.
“I’m good Kyrah,” Steven frowned at Val, “Were you about to seat us in the back booth?”
“Well, I didn’t know she was with you,” the hostess bit her lip, “Here, let me take you to your usual table.”
Steven smiled, obviously enjoying the small amount of power he could exercise in his dad’s restaurant, “I think we ought to let the lady choose.”
Alex laughed, “How very chivalrous. I like it. So what about it, Val, where do you wanna sit?”
All eyes turned to Val; she shrugged, “I don’t know, I liked that table by the chandelier.”
Steven laughed; all of them but the hostess turned to see why. He explained, “Excellent taste. The VIP table it is.” The hostess started to lead the way, but Steven waved her away; he retrieved Val’s card from the woman, whispering, “Just so you know next time, she’s always with us.” It seemed an overstatement; after all, they’d only known each for a week. Val admitted to herself that it did sound impressive.
They took their seats at the middle of the ‘VIP’ table; even though there were six of them four chairs were left unfilled at either end. Steven handed Val her card, “No charge for me or my friends. So what did you order?”
“The calamari,” Keenan offered Val a seat between him and Alex, and directly across from Steven; she took it, smiling.
“Ooh, bad choice,” Alex said, “Isn’t that right, Steven?”
“Oh yeah, very poor choice. My dad can’t cook calamari to save his life; the day cooks are even worse. He tells the waitresses to talk it up so he can get more practice, but it’s practically inedible.”
“Well—Kyrah told me it was good!” Val said defensively.
“Exactly.” Steven gestured to a nearby waiter; “The order that just went through for this table?” The waiter nodded. “Change it to four linguinis with meat sauce, one bowtie plate, and—what do you want, Val?”
It was the first time he’d addressed her directly; Val was caught off guard, “I’m not picky. The linguini thing sounds good.”
Steven nodded, “Alright then. Five linguinis and the bowtie. Got it?” The waiter made a note and walked back to the kitchen. “And Dr. Pepper to drink!” Steven called after him.
“Oh, I’m fine with water,” Val said.
Keenan gasped, “What, do you not like Dr. Pepper or something?”
“It’s ok. But I just had Starbucks.”
“Criminal!” Keenan exclaimed, “Isn’t that right, Alex?”
“Criminal!” Alex echoed, “It’s like the crack of sodas. Once you try it it’s all you want. I drink Dr. Pepper when I wake up, for every meal, and I have a case before bed. You know, to help me sleep.”
“Doesn’t it have caffeine in it?” Val asked.
“Oh, well—yeah. But don’t ruin the joke, sweety. I stand by what I said; a whole case before bed.”
Val laughed, “So you must get like zero sleep at night.”
“You know it, hun.” Alex winked, “That’s how I charm all the girls. When we stay up late they can’t help but admit how much they want me. Like last night.”
“You and I remember last night very differently,” Val giggled at her joke.
“I wasn’t talking about our study session, sweety. Although,” Alex mimed looking her up and down, “I wouldn’t say no to a quick biology refresher course with you. If you know what I mean.”
“Hey!” Keenan’s face was locked in a grimacing smile, “That’s still my girlfriend you’re talking to.”
The atmosphere at the table was icy; Alex’s smile never left his face, but he was quiet for several moments. The waiter finally broke the tension by returning with their drinks. He set all six down on the table; Steven thanked him, “And could you grab a water too? Apparently Val here doesn’t like the ambrosia that is Dr. Pepper.”
“Yeah,” Val agreed, “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry,” Steven waved the waiter away, “He gets paid to serve customers.”
“Well yeah, but I hate to be difficult.”
The guys all laughed; “You haven’t seen difficult,” Keenan said, “Remember that time we were here and the one lady got on the table and started yelling about sea animal rights?”
“Ooh ooh, or that time when Kyrah accidentally dropped a whole pitcher of water and it drenched that one guy?” Grant added.
In a moment the conversation turned to memories of incidents involving or affecting the staff of Cibo Del Mare; Val was left behind, since she shared none of them. She pulled out her phone and checked the weather; a bori
ng pastime, but more interesting than listening to a conversation that was practically nonsense to her ears.
Keenan startled her by putting a hand on her thigh, “Hey, did you hear me?”
Val looked up from her phone, “What?”
“I asked why you were at Starbucks.”
“Oh.” Val set her phone down, “I was meeting a—friend. Well, not really. It’s a long story.”
“We have nowhere else to be.” Everyone at the table was looking at Val; they nodded in agreement.
“Ok, well you all know I went to Walker for middle school, right?”
“Eurgh, the poor school,” Alex joked.
“Not really. But anyway, one of the boys there wrote this letter at the end of last semester that was really sweet—and he said he wanted to meet up. So I figured since I didn’t have anything to do today, I might as well—“
“Meet up with him,” Keenan finished for her. He smiled, “Well that’s good, how’d it go?”
“It went pretty well. I don’t know, he told me I was ‘alive’, and I don’t know what that was supposed to mean.”
“Yeah, that’s a weird thing to say,” Keenan agreed, “Aren’t we all alive?” Everyone laughed.
Kyrah served their meal; it was some of the best food Val had ever eaten. After they finished, Alex offered to give her a ride home—“Or you can hang out with us some more. We were gonna go to the mall and hit on girls.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” Val looked at Keenan, “Are you going with them?”
“Probably. Why, do you not want me to?”
Of course not, “No, it’s alright. I’ll just go home and—do homework or something.”
They went their separate ways; Val called a taxi to bring her home while Alex, Keenan, and company drove to the mall. As she thought about it, she realized she should’ve said something, but it was too late; by the time she thought of how to word a request that Keenan stay with her, he’d already left. Oh well, Val thought, there’s always next time.
Chapter 9
“Valentina!” Mom yelled, “If we don’t leave soon we’ll miss the midmorning service, and the next one’s not till noon! Please don’t make me come get you out of bed!”
Val groaned; she wanted to keep sleeping. Not because she was tired, but because she was not looking forward to going to her new church; Stonebrook had its own Methodist church, and Val knew she’d run into at least one of her classmates there. She pulled the covers back, checking her alarm clock as she did: it read 9:52am. Val walked over to her closet; she retrieved a black dress that had fallen from its hanger. It was rumpled, but Val set it down on the bed.
A quick shower later, Val returned to her room to put on some light makeup. It felt strange to use the vanity in her room instead of trekking back to the bathroom with her kit; in her old house she hadn’t had a mirror of her own, but her new room had mirrors to spare. In addition to the new vanity that Dad had bought for her just yesterday, her closet doors were covered with polished glass so that Val could check how different outfits looked as she changed. The black dress looked less wrinkled once she had it on; Mom knocked on Val’s door, “Time to go! Are you even up?”
“Yeah, I’m ready!” Val opened the door, smiling at her red-faced mother. “Let’s go!”
“Yes. Let’s. Your father’s waiting in the car.” Mom tromped down the stairs in her heels; Val followed, her flats making considerably less noise.
The trip was short and quiet; Val knew Dad was fretting about the time almost as much as Mom, although he wasn’t as vocal about it. “What if we’re the last ones in?” Mom worried, “What if we interrupt the service? Oh, Val, why couldn’t you just get up earlier?”
Val stared out the window; her parents seriously needed to reevaluate their lives if their greatest concern was arriving late to church. She was sure God would forgive them; sometimes adults got so worked up over the smallest things.
Dad pulled into the parking lot, “I’ll find a spot. You two go on in.” Mom hopped out of the car and clicked her way toward the church doors. Val followed, but as they were about to enter the nave, Mom addressed her, “Oh, I just remembered—teens meet somewhere else. I think it’s downstairs.” She entered before Val could ask for more specific directions.
“Um, ok then—“ Val looked around the nearly empty hallway; only a few laggards were still heading for wherever they needed to be. There were huge plasma televisions every few feet, flicking between a floor plan and some sort of religious network show. Val stared at the nearest one, hoping she could somehow glean directions from it.
Dylan’s too-familiar voice filled the corridor, “Don’t tell me you’re lost, Long Nose.”
Val turned, “I’m not lost.” Dylan would have been attractive if he weren’t so horrible; his dark brown hair was streaked with blonde highlights, which were obviously not natural, but they added a lot to his overall appearance.
“Alright then.” Dylan stalked off toward the stairs; Val was tempted to follow him, as he was probably headed to the youth area, but the last thing she wanted to do was incite more personal attacks.
“You sure you’re not lost?” A man, with a beard and a goofy smile, asked.
“Wow, you have the most beautiful eyes!” Val exclaimed before she could help herself; she’d never seen anyone with grey eyes before.
The man shrugged, “Yeah, I get that a lot. So, what are you looking for?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure,” Val admitted, “My mom just told me the teens meet somewhere in the basement—“
“Yup, the ‘Praise Room’. Come on, I’ll show you where it is.” He held out his arm.
Val took it, “Why do they call it that? Doesn’t that sound a little—childish?”
The man laughed, “Ouch. I’m the one who named it, actually.” He shrugged again as they walked down the stairs, “I figured, cause that’s where we praise Jesus—it makes sense!” He emphasized the last words, as if that would somehow make them true.
A giggle escaped from Val; she shook her head.
The man led the way into a large room; teens around Val’s age were all running around, doing something she didn’t understand. He snaked his arm free and clapped his hands, “Alright guys! Before you get too into this, let’s do the opening prayer and then I’ll explain the purpose behind today’s game.”
The boys and girls organized into a circle, grasping hands with those to their left and right; “Oh, I almost forgot,” the man added, “This is—well, what’s your name, honey?” He was looking at Val; in a moment, all eyes were on her.
“Valentina,” she supplied sheepishly.
“Valentina!” The man repeated, “Nice to meet you! I’m Pastor Kennedy. Valentina, would you mind leading the opening prayer?”
Val gulped nervously, “I’d rather not.” She eyed the pimply boy who’d grabbed her left hand; he was sweating profusely, and grinning.
Pastor Kennedy laughed, “Oh, come on. There’s really no wrong way to do it. I’ll even get you started! ‘Dear Father—‘”
Val took a deep breath, “Uh, thank you for, uh, bringing us together. And, um, thank you for our health and wealth. May you shelter us through times of trial and bring us peace.” She borrowed the words from a poem her parents had put up in the family bathroom.
“Amen,” Pastor Kennedy finished, “See, not so bad. Quite good, actually—if a bit short.”
“Thanks,” Val searched the sea of faces for anyone familiar; except for Dylan, it looked like she was alone in the basement.
“You are most certainly welcome,” the Pastor smiled, “So, today’s game—“ he explained the rules and their meaning; to Val it sounded like a simple game of tag, with little more than a loose Biblical association. Each person had a Bible quote they were supposed to say when they tagged someone else, and if the person they tagged could recite the books of the Old and New Testament from start to finish without interruption, they were ‘immune’. Val quickly joined the group of girls h
er age standing off to the side; several of the boys, especially Dylan, really got into it, but Val and the girls spent most of the time talking about other things.
“Don’t you guys just hate how nosy the gate guard is?” One girl complained. She had a crooked nose and dark amber hair that reflected the fluorescent light as she glanced from one girl to another.
“I know,” Val agreed, “Like I don’t think he needs to know why I have friends coming over. All he should care about is that they’re coming—Ow!” She exclaimed as someone shoved her from behind; Val turned to locate the source of the push. Dylan smiled wolfishly, “’Do unto others as ye shall have done unto you.’ You’re it.”
It took Val a second to decide how to respond; she could turn back around and continue her conversation, and complain about stupid boys like Dylan—or she could find someone to tag back. The little kid in her knew which answer to choose; she lunged for the nearest boy, who turned sideways to avoid her hands. Val realized as she tried to trap a pair of boys who looked like twins in a corner that she couldn’t remember her quote at all. Her fingertips brushed one’s shoulder and she decided to just make up something that sounded Bible-ish, “If thou stands at the ford of a river and catches a fish, what hast thou done?” It sounded lame, but the boy seemed to accept it; he started reciting books as fast as he could think of them.
To Val’s dismay he finished in perfect form; Pastor Kennedy, who was watching, started clapping, “I think that’s as good a point as any to stop. Val, thank you for actually participating—I hate to see all the girls stand off to the side the whole game.” Great, Val thought. Pastor Kennedy was doing her no favors by singling her out for praise, since he was also using it as an opportunity to reprimand the other girls. They’d seemed to be warming to her before, but the Pastor’s words would probably reverse the process.
“Anyway, looking at the time, I think it’s about time we discussed some of the quotes—“ Pastor Kennedy segued into a long talk about reciprocity, and what it meant for modern Christians. Val found herself zoning out, even though she tried to pay attention. By the time Pastor Kennedy was done, she’d hardly gotten more out of his speech than that even modern Christians should follow the Golden Rule. “Well, that’s all for today,” Kennedy concluded, “I’ll go get the donuts and drinks. I think the service is still a few minutes out.”
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