with someone like me. Besides, she didn't know I was alive. A fact that was not likely to change, anytime soon.
"Let us continue," Mark said. "You have the athletic ability of an eight-year-old girl and the social skills of a Trappist Monk. And, to top it all off, you have the well-deserved reputation as the King of the Nerds. These facts, and many, many more, make it a sure thing that Haley Martin will never, ever, go out with you. It is a physical impossibility."
"Yea. Well, you're not exactly GQ material yourself. You sit there like an apprentice Jabba the Hut, telling me I'm the screwed up one."
Mark wasn't really that big. In fact, he'd lost some of his weight as he grew this last couple of years, but it was Mark's only sensitive spot and I desperately wanted to change the subject.
"Maybe," Mark said with a frown. "The difference is that I'm not weeping into my pillow every night about some girl I'll never have."
An awkward silence fell over the room like a humid night. Both of us stared at each other. Knowing full well that we'd come close to crossing the line into discussing emotions. Another of those rules that could never be broken.
Deciding that a stare-down wasn't going to solve anything, I swiped the hair out of my eyes and returned to my work, promising myself to ignore my friend and to not think about Haley Martin.
Mark returned to his comic books and a silence returned to the room, interrupted by the rapid clicking of the keyboard on my lap.
"Hey, speaking of girls. Where's your sister? Any chance of getting her to cook us some dinner?" Mark said with a smile. The awkward moment put behind us.
"That has to be the most sexist thing I have ever heard," I said.
"Yeah, well I'm a seventeen-year-old American male. It comes with the territory."
I shook my head, the guy was unfixable. Don't even try. If it weren't for the fact that he had stood by me since third grade. No matter what. Plus, he'd have killed anyone for messing with Amanda.
"She's upstairs, but Mom doesn't like her cooking. Not after that whole burnt towel incident."
"You guys treat her too easy," Mark said.
"She's blind, remember."
"Actually, sometimes I forget. I'm just saying, she's going to have to learn how to cook for herself. You're going off to college next year. Your mom works a lot of double shifts. She's fifteen." Mark said, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought they taught her all that stuff at that school she went to?"
Was he right? Had we been too easy with Amanda? She was so independent, already. Should we be pushing her to do more?
Before I could continue, a loud thunk reverberated throughout the room as everything went dark. Where there had been power, now there was none. No warning. Just an eerie silence that engulfed the room as computer fans stopped twirling and the overhead florescent lights stopped buzzing.
Fumbling around in the dark I grabbed a flashlight off the workbench and jumped to the equipment rack to start shutting things down. I raced to get everything off before the power came back on. It wasn't the shutdown that killed equipment, it was the sudden surge of returning electricity that burnt up components. I really should get a UPS, but it was one of those expenses that hadn't seemed vital.
Beginning to breathe again, I secured the last router and shut the cabinet door letting out a heavy sigh.
"How long do you think it will be out?" a disembodied voice said from the couch.
"Fourteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds."
"Huh?"
I shook my head. Mark rarely got my jokes. "I don't know," I said with more patience.
The two of us sat in the darkened room and waited for the lights to come back on. I began to get twitchy after only a few minutes. My fingers itched to be doing something. The muscles on my neck and shoulders began to tighten up. I should be doing something. This was wasted time that would never be made up.
"Can I borrow the flashlight?" Mark asked.
I glanced at the standard flashlight sitting
"Let us continue," Mark said. "You have the athletic ability of an eight-year-old girl and the social skills of a Trappist Monk. And, to top it all off, you have the well-deserved reputation as the King of the Nerds. These facts, and many, many more, make it a sure thing that Haley Martin will never, ever, go out with you. It is a physical impossibility."
"Yea. Well, you're not exactly GQ material yourself. You sit there like an apprentice Jabba the Hut, telling me I'm the screwed up one."
Mark wasn't really that big. In fact, he'd lost some of his weight as he grew this last couple of years, but it was Mark's only sensitive spot and I desperately wanted to change the subject.
"Maybe," Mark said with a frown. "The difference is that I'm not weeping into my pillow every night about some girl I'll never have."
An awkward silence fell over the room like a humid night. Both of us stared at each other. Knowing full well that we'd come close to crossing the line into discussing emotions. Another of those rules that could never be broken.
Deciding that a stare-down wasn't going to solve anything, I swiped the hair out of my eyes and returned to my work, promising myself to ignore my friend and to not think about Haley Martin.
Mark returned to his comic books and a silence returned to the room, interrupted by the rapid clicking of the keyboard on my lap.
"Hey, speaking of girls. Where's your sister? Any chance of getting her to cook us some dinner?" Mark said with a smile. The awkward moment put behind us.
"That has to be the most sexist thing I have ever heard," I said.
"Yeah, well I'm a seventeen-year-old American male. It comes with the territory."
I shook my head, the guy was unfixable. Don't even try. If it weren't for the fact that he had stood by me since third grade. No matter what. Plus, he'd have killed anyone for messing with Amanda.
"She's upstairs, but Mom doesn't like her cooking. Not after that whole burnt towel incident."
"You guys treat her too easy," Mark said.
"She's blind, remember."
"Actually, sometimes I forget. I'm just saying, she's going to have to learn how to cook for herself. You're going off to college next year. Your mom works a lot of double shifts. She's fifteen." Mark said, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought they taught her all that stuff at that school she went to?"
Was he right? Had we been too easy with Amanda? She was so independent, already. Should we be pushing her to do more?
Before I could continue, a loud thunk reverberated throughout the room as everything went dark. Where there had been power, now there was none. No warning. Just an eerie silence that engulfed the room as computer fans stopped twirling and the overhead florescent lights stopped buzzing.
Fumbling around in the dark I grabbed a flashlight off the workbench and jumped to the equipment rack to start shutting things down. I raced to get everything off before the power came back on. It wasn't the shutdown that killed equipment, it was the sudden surge of returning electricity that burnt up components. I really should get a UPS, but it was one of those expenses that hadn't seemed vital.
Beginning to breathe again, I secured the last router and shut the cabinet door letting out a heavy sigh.
"How long do you think it will be out?" a disembodied voice said from the couch.
"Fourteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds."
"Huh?"
I shook my head. Mark rarely got my jokes. "I don't know," I said with more patience.
The two of us sat in the darkened room and waited for the lights to come back on. I began to get twitchy after only a few minutes. My fingers itched to be doing something. The muscles on my neck and shoulders began to tighten up. I should be doing something. This was wasted time that would never be made up.
"Can I borrow the flashlight?" Mark asked.
I glanced at the standard flashlight sitting