Chapter Nine

A bowling alley was a poor man's country club. Well . . . that's what it looked like from where I was standing. Men, men and more men ranging from new parents to grandparents, took up residence in each of the lanes. Without the rest of their families, of course.

They drank from the bar and kicked back in the lanes because there was a special; buy two drinks and earn yourself a free game. Not only was the place overflowing with men, but they were also drunk men who kept on buying drinks and kept their lanes for game after game. This was our fault for going on a Wednesday night which was clearly dedicated to folks like them.

The first thing Maisie did when she sat into the booth was to place her phone face down on the table. That could mean one of two things; one, that she wanted to focus on me and not be disturbed by the notifications on her phone, which was respectful or two, she had something to hide. But according to her twitter, she didn't hide much, so she got a point for good behaviour.

We got a basket of fries to share in the booth while waiting for our turn to pounce for a lane. All of Anna's advice didn't set me up for a simple eat opposite each other chat. Prolonged eye contact? I didn't have any other choice but to look into Maisie's eyes. If I did look away, it would've seemed like I was wholly disinterested in our conversation.

The only way to initiate any form of physical contact was beneath the table by foot. And feet . . . feet were pretty gross. Especially rented shoes. Shoes that hundreds of other people have worn before us.

Thinking about our feet touching made me almost miss the question she asked.

"Hmm. Music? Anything that's on the radio, I'm not too fussy. Put on Phil Collins and I'm chilled out for ages," I told her and then proceeded to panic as she squirted tomato sauce all over the fries. "You didn't just do that, did you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you don't like tomato sauce?" Maisie put the bottle down and winced.

"I do, but I like to dip . . . only once per fry from a separate container. Huh. I think it's a habit I picked up from Anna."

"Haha, good one, Sam."

"No . . ." I wasn't joking, but what was the point in taking back a 'joke' that made her laugh. The consequences? I'd have to live with this lie for the rest of my life. Or around her anyway. That was it. Trapped by this lie forever. "Yes. I was very clearly joking. Anyway, music, what type do you like?"

"Stuff like Nirvana, nothing you'd know."

"I would never have guessed," I joked and nodded to her top with Nirvana spelt backwards and ignoring the fact she thought I didn't know who Nirvana was. Everyone knew about them.

"Okay, we need to get into the juicy questions."

"Sure." I grabbed my drink. "Personally, I like orange."

"What?"

"Orange juice . . . bad joke. Okay, juicy questions. Shoot."

"What made you realise that you liked girls?"

Record scratch.

Five years ago.

Mrs. Jenkins made us promise that after watching the Prisoner of Azkaban that we would go to bed. We intended to keep the promise, but magically The Half-Blood Prince was on the screen, and it was three o'clock in the morning. It was Valentine's Day. A holiday! It wasn't like we had school the next day. Saturdays weren't meant to be lived. They were meant for sleep. We'd gotten this far, and if we had to stay up twenty hours straight to watch until the end, then that's what we were going to do. We agreed to that silently.

When closing my eyes, beams of white does, and rabbits chased each other, leaving trickles of off grey mist in their absence. When in fact, the reality was that Anna claimed the two-seater by herself and I was in the armchair. Sabrina was content on a blanket on the ground with a quilt wrapped around her shoulders.

The unspoken pact had in fact not been pledged apparently, because Anna's loud snort not only nearly woke herself, but the lamp turned on and off. That made Sabrina jump and blearily look over her shoulder to her sister like she was a spawn of Satan.

Well damn. Had I'd been the only one awake this whole time?

In time with Anna's fart, the lamp beside the TV flickered. Once was a coincidence but twice? Not so much. Sabrina dramatically covered her mouth and widened her eyes and made eye contact with me.

That was that settled. We clambered out of the sitting room, and high tailed it up the stairs – which proved to be a problem as Sabrina wore the quilt like a cape and kept stepping on it – and dove beneath the covers of her bed.

"There you have it. Anna is a proven witch," I whispered, crossing my arms in an x shape over my chest. "How does it feel to know that her farts are more powerful than you'll ever be?"

"I doubt it's a reliable power source, not reliable enough to make her fly up the stairs like I did."

"I don't know . . . the odour suggested otherwise."

"Samantha."

"Yeah?"

She pushed the quilt off from our heads and pinched my necklace between her fingers. "SJ We have the same initials."

My head ducked slightly to look at the heart-shaped piece clutched in her thumb and finger. "Do you like it?"

"I do. I really do. When did you get it? It's new, isn't it?"

"Today. Or yesterday. Valentine's Day."

"Who got it for you?"

"Me." I rolled my eyes at the lame answer. "Self-love is important. I heard mom saying to her friend on the phone last night."

"It's really nice, Sam."

"Did you get anything for Valentines?"

She shook her head. "Nothing special."

Without warning, I unclasped the necklace from around my neck and said, "Self-love is important, but I think showing your friends that you love them is more important. I want you to have this."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"I'll always wear it," she said quietly.

"Always?"

"Always."

"I wonder if Snape's last name begins with a J too," I joked, making her crack a smile.

"That is his last name, moron," she said as she turned around for me to put the necklace on. I moved her hair to the side and fumbled my way into clasping it shut. "Severus Snape?"

Wow. Boy did I feel dumb. I burst into a fit of laughter which was soon followed by Sabrina's puff of laughter at my expense, but I didn't mind. She had a pretty laugh and the fact she had my necklace with our initials in a heart spurred me to laugh even more.

When we calmed down, we must've been delirious from the lack of sleep and huddled back beneath the covers. Sabrina's hand stayed up on her chest, clutching the necklace into a fist beneath her neck while she faced me.

"I want to give you something for Valentine's Day too."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"It's silly."

"No! Go on. Give it to me."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. You're not silly, Sabrina. Nothing you do is silly."

Her lips brush against mine, sparking a hurricane of butterflies in the pit of my stomach and she backed up and smiled. "Happy Valentine's Day, Samantha."

"I think the thing that set things in motion was Harry Potter," I answered somewhat truthfully.

"Emma Watson?" Maisie said knowingly.

"Sure." I was about to eat a fry, but they were all red and bloodied and destroyed. "How about you?"

"It was actually Sasha that told me over the summer that I should really reflect on myself and my relationships with others. She told me to evaluate my friendship with her versus my friendship with Parker."

Well, this was getting deep. "Which one did you like?"

Maisie scratched her cheek and rolled her eyes. "Parker."

"Makes sense. Let me guess, you thought it was just a really intense best friend – friendship?"

"Basically," she sighed and laughed. "Oooh. There's a lane open. Go, go, go."

We jumped out of the booth, and I flicked my hand over the table, sending the fries sailing to the ground so she wouldn't notice that I refused to touch them and make her feel guilty. She wiggled about a bunch as she typed our names into the tablet in the middle of the lane. Both our nicknames appeared up on the screen above our heads.

MilkMan and Wanda.

I fought back a grin by clamping my teeth down on my lower lip. "Is this your way of saying that you're magical? Pinked haired fairy? Fairly odd, don't you think?"

Maisie chose a pink ball—which was the lightest weight which made sense and was a total coincidence and weighed it in her hands. "Odd?" Her brows pulled together. "It's a nickname Parker gave me months ago. It kind of stuck around, I guess."

Okay. The pun didn't hit its mark. That was okay. It wasn't actually all that funny.

But dammit Fairly Odd Parents was a masterpiece.

"Doesn't matter," I muttered to myself and stood slightly behind her and to her left as she stood at the line. "Do you bowl much?"

"Every Saturday." Maisie winked. "So, when you lose, don't feel bad."

"Show me, don't tell me," I teased.

Maisie stepped up and quickly tossed the ball down the lane and instantly spun around, strutting over to the chairs with a proud smile on her face. Only—behind her, the ball didn't quite go where she had planned. Instead of clipping any of the pins, it scuttered down the gutter.

Taking a heavy breath, I took out a pink ball from the rows and held it up quietly for her to take. Charging up, Maisie took the ball from my hands without a word and spun the ball down the lane, and this time she didn't strike out entirely. She managed to knock over two pins.

I closed my eyes in agony at keeping the laughter deep inside my chest and not allowing it to gape out of my mouth. My shoulders shook violently at the effort, but it could've been played off as raw nerves. I stood with the bowling ball, eyes focused on the lane and tried reigning in my hysterics. And before throwing the ball, Maisie was behind my back, hand on my hip and head over my shoulder.

"The trick is to keep your arm straight," she said, dragging her hand down to my elbow. "Don't aim for the pins. Follow the arrows and your arm will do the rest."

I glanced over my shoulder on time to see her chew on her lower lip. "You never asked me if I bowled before."

Then I strutted forward, and muscle memory was a trusty old friend, especially with how many times Anna had drilled me in the art of bowling. The ball raced down the lane and hit the centre pin, striking them all at once like a massive wave they toppled over.

Maisie nodded and nodded until there was a real chance of her becoming a bobblehead forever. She pointed to me. "Hustler."

I shrugged. "Not my fault you assumed. Don't feel bad when you lose. I've only played twice before."

The rest of the game was like that, with Maisie getting a little more and more competitive, and the more she tried to perfect her technique, the more emotion overtook her skill. But it was fun. Fun for me, anyway. Three games later and she finally admitted to defeat.

We'd eaten already, and we played three games of bowling and two hours had flown by. That was the perfect time to end the date. Well, even if she disagreed, I'd already texted for Anna to come and get me ten minutes before the game ended. As we walked out of the bowling alley, our fingers brushed together, and once we were outside, she stopped walking and faced me.

"Want me to drop you home?" she asked.

"Thanks, but Anna's around here somewhere." I wiggled my phone.

"We should . . . Well not do this again sometime – not bowling but something else?"

"Sounds like a plan."

She looked at my lips, and my blood pulsated angrily. Well, this was it. She was going to kiss me. Right? She leaned in. Yes. She was going in for the kill, and my brain was like when it was drunk. It raced a million miles an hour with no logical thoughts.

This was it. A kiss. My first kiss since Sabrina. Was I ready for that? Did I want to kiss her right here right now? My neck decided for me by snapping in the opposite direction so that her lips smacked against my cheek. Death. Death was coming for me because I was pretty sure that I ruptured something in my neck.

I smiled through the pain and said a quick goodbye before scouring the parking lot for Sabrina's car. Anna was sat on top of the hood with a bizarre expression on her face which quickly switched to concern.

"Anna . . . Anna . . . I'm dying," I breathed out and collapsed into her arms.

"Sam! What's wrong?"

"My neck. It's broken."

"It's not broken," she reassured and pet my hair. "Come on, let's get you home and you can tell me why you dodged that kiss."

"Okay," I sniffled.