Al's Blind Date by Constance C. Greene

Author:Constance C. Greene
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504004459
Publisher: Open Road Media Teen & Tween

Twelve

We walked up the fourteen flights of stairs to our floor when we got home, just in case Sparky’s mom was hiding in the elevator, ready to pounce.

“Listen,” Al said, breathing hard along about the tenth floor, “we better make up our minds about this darn party before I have a heart attack. I can’t take all this exercise. First I do the rowing machine, then the jump rope, then the stationary bicycle. Now this. I’m basically a very weak person. I can’t take life in the fast lane. So I’m out of shape. I guess I’m gonna stay that way.”

“Well, let’s call her and tell her we’ll go, then,” I said. “It might be fun. And if we don’t like her nephew, we just split and buzz for the elevator. It isn’t as if we’ve got a long way to go.”

Al dragged her key up out of her sweatshirt and unlocked her door. “Come on in,” she said. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”

“What?” I said.

Al was about to say more when her mother showed up, dangling one of Al’s nerdy new shoes from the extreme tip of one finger. She was painfully distressed.

“Alexandra, what on earth happened?” Al’s mother said. “How are you, dear?” she asked me. I used to be scared of her when Al first moved in down the hall, but now I like her.

“I smelled this perfectly foul odor,” Al’s mother continued, averting her eyes from the offending shoe, “and I traced it to your closet. Well, of course I immediately sprayed the whole place with Rume Fresh, but it still smells. What happened?”

Al gave her mother a shot of her bilious eyes.

“Sparky bombed me,” she said.

“Who is Sparky? One of your friends?”

“Mom, Sparky is a dog,” Al said. “He cornered me in the elevator and let fly on account of he took a dislike to me and my new shoes. And I hate ’em too. I wish you wouldn’t buy me shoes, Mom. Let me buy my own, O.K.? Shoes are an expression of a person’s personality and these don’t express my personality, they express yours. I am an individual and these shoes offend me.”

Then Al ran out of steam. She was like a balloon when the air goes out of it. She collapsed into the nearest chair.

“Why, Alexandra,” her mother said, “I had no idea you felt that way. I thought they were rather chic.”

“But I’m not chic, Mom,” Al said, only she pronounced it “chick.” “I’m a very down-to-earth person and I like down-to-earth shoes. I saw a pair of orange hightops to die over and I’m saving up for them. I don’t want you to buy them for me. I want to buy them for myself.”

Al’s mother was a good sport. I saw her wince when Al said “orange hightops,” but she recovered quickly.

“Our shoe department has a new spray they say brings back to life. I think I’ll try it on these,” and she waved Al’s nerdy shoe around, keeping it safely away from her nose.

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