What's Life Without the Sprinkles - By Misty Simon Page 0,23

was probably taking Claudia and Justin out to dinner Monday evening. It would be a welcome fun thing to do after the lunch they had to attend this weekend. He still hadn’t decided whether he wanted to go or not.

Wandering over to the refrigerator, he pulled open the door and checked out what he had. He grabbed a package of filet he’d taken out of the deep freeze in the garage earlier in the week and seasoned it. He’d grill again. No big deal.

Thinking about the upcoming couple of days brought two things to the front of his mind. For one, he hoped Claudia could handle Peter. He knew she could, but he hoped she came out the other side okay. Secondly, as much as it was never a hardship to take Claudia anywhere—she’d been potty trained for years—he did hope her nervous tick would go away before their dinner.

Then again, maybe she finally needed glasses. He’d been telling her for years that holding paper at arm’s length wasn’t the norm. And if she really wanted to enjoy those romance novels she liked to read, she should break down and get glasses. Maybe that was the problem the other night when her eyelashes kept fluttering.

Because the only other explanation he’d been able to come up with over the last few days was that she was trying to flirt with him, and that made about as much sense as using a ballpeen hammer to pound in a stake on a railroad tie. Not to mention they’d been friends forever and, despite a few wet dreams at night when he was younger, he’d put her in a box labeled Not For Sex, Ever.

It was too ridiculous to even contemplate. Wasn’t it?

Chapter Four

“Come on, Justin,” Claudia called down the short hallway, hoping to be heard over his stereo. Wasn’t loud stereo noise supposed to come in the teens? Her child was smart for his age and sometimes older than she thought he should be, but he was really pushing this expected-behavior thing straight over a cliff.

“What?” the muffled reply came through the closed door near the end of the hallway.

“Come on out if you want to go to the batting cages.” She pounded on the door for good measure.

“What?” A little louder this time.

“All right,” she said to herself. “I’ve tried the whole respecting privacy business, but this is ridiculous.” Turning the knob, she tried to shove open the door but something was in the way.

“Mom!” he said in a whiny, sing-song voice.

“Justin!” Claudia sent it right back to him. “Move whatever the heck is keeping this door wedged closed, and let me in.”

“But this is my room, and you said you’d respect my privacy.”

Ooh, it sucked to have her words thrown back at her, especially when she was trying to do something nice for the little hooligan, something she didn’t even particularly like to do. “I wouldn’t have any problem respecting your privacy if you could ever hear me.”

“What?”

“Open the door!” She was trying so hard not to use the f-word right now, and her breath gurgled in the back of her throat. What a great way to spend a fun Friday night.

“Jeez, Mom, just hold on a second.”

Oh, my God! She was not going to survive his puberty—and he might not either.

After much banging and grunting and groaning, the door opened. And it was like coming across an overflowing dumpster in the middle of a skating rink.

There, standing in the middle of piles of clothes, magazines, toys, and CDs, was her son. Four-foot-nine of attitude, maleness, and angst. But under it all, he was a great kid, one who tried to cook her dinner and would rub her back when she’d had a long day. One who still to this day made Mother’s Day and Father’s Day cards for her. One who really was the apple of her eye when he wasn’t being a pain in her ass.

She propped herself against the door jamb and waited for him to stop shuffling his feet and actually look at her. She didn’t have long to wait, and she got a half-cocked smile, one that was pure Nate. It forced her a half step back as it rocked her in her shoes.

When had Justin become a small Nate and no longer a small Claudia, or even a small Peter? In the looks department, Justin and Nate couldn’t be farther from each other. Justin was the spitting image of Peter with his dark hair and