I told my mom that night about Mark to let her know I actually had a friend, but I didn't mention that he thought I was immature and bossed me around. In my mind, I figured that was my fault, and it was up to me to deal with it.
"Why don't you invite him over for dinner on Friday?"
The idea made me nervous, "I'm not sure if he'll want to."
"I'm sure he will. I'll call his parents."
My mom is complicated when it comes to me. She's not mean at all, and she never yells. But she was probably the reason I was immature.
As Mark said, she's not a dad.
I was worried that she might say something embarrassing to Mark's parents that would make him doubt whether I was worth his time. So I wanted to keep them apart.
"I'm glad you're making friends," she told me. He sounds like a nice kid."
"He might be busy," I said, hoping it was true.
"Then we'll make it another night."247Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfguPUbVIR3
I called Mark and told him that my mom was inviting him for dinner, and he said right away that he thought it was okay. So he put his mom on the phone to talk to my mom. I sat next to her so I would know what she saying about me.
She told Mark's mom that I was "excited" to have a friend like Mark and that I had trouble making friends. Then she went all-in on embarrassment and said that Mark might be a "good example" for me and joked about how I needed boys to "show him the way."
I hoped that Mark wasn't nearby to hear what my mom was saying, and I also hoped his mom wouldn't tell him.
He already thought I was a baby; this would convince him once and for all.
My anxiety was going through the roof, so I went back to my room and cuddled up a little with Max. Then I realized I was acting babyish and threw him across the room.
I didn't see Mark again until Friday, which gave me less time to mess up and get him mad at me again, and more time to worry that I would mess up on Friday. I made sure my mom ordered a pepperoni pizza and cheesy bread so Mark could have his favorite food.
He showed up just after five and gave me an extra poster of a hot car he had in his closet and a second one of some manga thing I didn't know anything about.
"You need new posters," he told me.
"Thanks."
My mom thanked him, too, and then asked me if I thanked him, which was embarrassing, but at least he could see me standing up to her and telling her that I did already.
I was hoping that just me and Mark would eat together, but my mom wanted to join us, and all three of us sat down at the kitchen table.
Mark thought it was weird—I could see it in his eyes, but then she started telling him what he told his mom—that I was happy to have a friend. Worse, she actually said to him, "I know he can be a little immature sometimes, but kids should give him a chance."
I could see him smirk, "Yeah, he is a little immature."
"You're going to be a big help to him."
"Mom, please," I pleaded as quietly as possible.
"She's just trying to help," Mark told me. His voice gets a little sarcastic when he starts getting mad at me. It was getting that way now, so I decided I shouldn't say anything else about it, "Anyway, I'll help him," he assured her.
He was a month younger than me, and she talked to him like he was another adult.
"Oh, I forgot!" He looked over at my mom, "Can Charlie sleepover tomorrow?"
He hadn't mentioned a sleepover to me; if I had known, I would have come up with an excuse. Too many things could go wrong, and the whole thing seemed potentially humiliating. I had never been to a sleepover before, and the idea of being in pajamas around Mark was embarrassing.
"I'm sure he'd love to!"
To say anything at this point would have seemed babyish, so I just forced, "Cool," and left it at that.
"Cool," Mark didn't make it so obvious that mom would know, but I knew he was mocking me.
He already knew I would mess up.
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