The closer it came to 4 p.m., the more my anxiety grew. His house was just a ten-minute walk, but I became obsessed with when I should knock on his door. Mark had said to be there at four, but what should I do? Should I knock a few minutes before or a few minutes after? Should I knock as soon as my watch showed four?
I was worried that if I knocked too early, I would be acting too excited. If I knocked too late, I would be acting like I wasn't listening to him.
I finally decided to knock at 4 p.m. but wait until maybe thirty seconds, so I didn't knock precisely when the time changed. Hopefully, that would be okay. If he was watching the time and seeing what I was going to do, and if I would do anything embarrassing and childish, that should be okay.
I checked my backpack one last time and walked down to Mark's house. I walked slowly because I didn't want to get there too early and have to wait outside for the right time. That would have felt awkward and weird. So I slowed down the corner just before turning onto Mark's street and pretended to inspect a crack in the sidewalk for a minute until the timing was right.
I started to get nervous, but I concentrated and reminded myself that I was overreacting. Like a million other kids, I'm going to a friend's house. Just because I hadn't done it a lot didn't mean it didn't happen a million times a day.
"Stop this," I whispered to myself, forcing myself to calm down (and stop acting like a baby. Somehow, that made me feel better. I walked right up to the door and knocked. Right away, Mark answered.
"Hey, Charlie!" He was very friendly like he was happy to see me. His parents came to the door too and were really nice. His dad shook my hand. As weird as it sounds, I never had strangers act so happy to see me.
His dad looked at his watch, "We're going to leave for the restaurant in about an hour. You guys can just chill for now."
Mark took me into his room for the first time, shutting the door behind us.
It was about twice or maybe three times the size of my bedroom, and I could see why he laughed at my stupid babyish things. On the other hand, he had a fantastic room with movie and car posters on the wall, a big tv on the well, a desktop computer, and a tall bookshelf crammed with books. He even had his own bathroom with a sliding door.
"This is amazing," I said. But then, I realized that maybe I was acting a little overexcited and looked over at him to see if he was mad.
But instead, he asked me, "Did you shower before you came here?"
That was a bizarre question. I thought it was a joke. I shrugged and laughed, "Well, last night."
"Last night?"
His whole friendly attitude had changed.
I shrugged and laughed, "I'm clean, you know!"
He stared at me and didn't say anything.
"What's wrong?"
He pointed at the bathroom, "Take a shower."
"Very funny." I laughed again. It made zero sense. It wasn't like I smelled or anything.
But he was serious, "If you don't, you're going home."
Now it was my turn to stare.
"Do it."
"I took one last night," I repeated. Then, I realized he was serious. I felt very confused. I wasn't dirty. I knew I wasn't.
"Maybe you don't understand this because you're kind of immature, but you should take a shower before you come to someone's house to go out with their family."
I felt sick to my stomach. I really didn't want to take a shower in his house, but maybe I was being immature.
"He picked up his phone and showed it to me, "You want to ask your mommy?"
"No."
I decided I had better give in and get past this as fast as possible.
"Then hurry up and take a shower."
I went over to his bathroom, sliding the door shut behind me. It had no lock.
The shower wasn't like mine, with a plastic curtain. Instead, this was like a rich person's shower, with glass all around.
I thought for a second about telling him that I would run back to my own house to shower, but I'm sure he would think I was being a baby. My mom would probably think so, too.
I took off my shoes and my socks.
I took off my shirt.
I was almost ready to cry with humiliation and told myself again, "Stop this," but I was still shaking when I took off my shirt.
Why was he doing this? I didn't want to ruin the whole sleepover by being a baby, but it seemed unfair. Next time, I would make sure to take a shower before I did anything with him.
I looked at the door again to ensure I'd closed it all the way and took my pants and underwear off. Then, I turned on the shower and got in.
How long was long enough? I didn't want to be in there for long, but I didn't want him to think I was faking taking a shower, either. We still had almost an hour until we left, so I figured I'd better calm myself down, take a regular shower, and not rush things.
I poured out some shampoo and had just started to wash my hair when I heard the door slide open. I looked over my shoulder.
Mark had walked in.
"What are you in here?" I stepped to the other side of the shower. The glass walls of the shower were transparent. So he could see my bare butt completely.
"Relax, you little baby, I brought you a towel."
I stared at the shower nozzle but didn't hear him leave.
"You can leave."
I looked over my shoulder, and he was still standing there.
"How about a thank you?"
"Thank you," I said quickly.
He laughed at me and went back into his bedroom, leaving the door open.
"Please close the door," I shouted as nicely as possible.
He ignored me. He sat at his desk, playing a video game. There was no way for me to close the door without stepping entirely out of the shower.
I was sure he did it on purpose, to teach me a lesson.
I took a deep breath and whispered my words again, trying to keep myself from losing it.
"Stop this."
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