Girls Don't Know Jack

Surprise Visit

♫ Nobody Gets Me - SZA

My legs pump at the pedals of my bike as I whizz down the busy side street. The sun is starting set already, and it's beginning to become a bit of a hazardous ride.

Blonde, crunchy hair slaps me in matted chunks across the face as the wind whips through me. Finally, my destination comes into view.

A small two-story white house with a rotted out front porch. Coming to a slow, I drop my bike in a heap near the ditch. The home looks like it was once a cute place, but now the paint has started to peel. The sidewalk is cracked, overgrown grass shielding the walkway.

It's not quite how I imagined.

With a sigh, I make my way to the front door, tall grass tickling my bare ankles until I step onto the creaking stairs. I pull back the screen door and give a firm knock on the dirty white surface.

It takes a moment, but then it begins to creak open. Jack Moody's mop of dark brown hair pops out, a bit of surprise laced onto his face at my appearance. But then it's quickly replaced with a firm frown.

"Molly? What are you doing here?" he spits, seeming less than thrilled at my surprise visit.

"Oh, well, I've been worried about you," I stammer shifting awkwardly. The night's air has brought a bit of a chill, and I shiver standing in my pleated skirt.

"You should go home," Jack mumbles squeaking the door back closed in front of me. But, my hand shoots through the small opening, clinging onto the sleeve of his blue hoodie.

"Wait!" I exclaim and he pauses with a sigh. "You haven't been at school. I was worried they kicked you out."

His dark eyes stare back at me beneath lowered brows. "I've been sick—probably have you to thank for that, too," he grumbles.

"Oh," is all I muster. Relief washes over me. Jack hasn't been expelled—he only caught my flu.

Jack peers down at me, annoyed at my insistence of remaining on his front porch. "Can you leave now?"

His tone is harsh, and it hurts to feel his anger directed at me.

"Jack, I can explain," I stutter. "I never meant for any trouble—"

"You never do," he interjects in a huff. "Yet somehow every time you're around me, a disaster is waiting around the corner."

I sulk, kicking at the splintered wood with the toe of my loafers. He's not wrong; I'm a total mess. Anytime I get near him, I just lose my mind. Everything gets all mixed up.

A sigh from Jack Moody's lips fills the air and he steps onto the porch, door creaking to a shut behind us.

"I didn't mean for it to come out that harsh—I just," he says running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm just frustrated is all."

The tall boy saunters across the porch, taking a seat to swing his legs over the edge. I walk over to sit next to him, turning to face him as I say, "I didn't mean to rat you out to Principal Wells. It just sort of happened."

His sock foot thumps against the wood beneath us as he sways his legs over the tall grass.

"And I made sure my parents wouldn't cause a scene," I add hoping to build my case.

Slowly, he nods looking forward towards the street. His eyes narrow. "Did you ride your bike here?"

"Oh, yes."

He turns his head to me, eyes still squinted. "That's like a really far ride for you," he states.

And it was—much further than Google Maps made it look. My legs are already cramping up from the strenuous act. They sure aren't used to that much activity.

A creak sounds behind us as a soothing voice calls out, "Jack, come in for dinner—Oh." A frail woman steps out to join us. She has a cardigan wrapped tightly around her thin frame and a colorful scarf around her head. "I didn't realize we had company."

"She was just leaving," Jack mumbles coming to a stand. He places a hand onto the woman's elbow as if to steady her.

The woman turns to look at him and I start to see the resemblance: the same high cheekbones and sharp jaw.

"Jack, don't be rude," she tells him with a soft smile. "Come on in," she says to me. "We're having mac and cheese."

I look to Jack for approval but he only blinks back at me, jaw tense. It's clear he's had enough of me—probably enough for a lifetime.

But, I'd be crazy to turn down an invitation for dinner at Jack Moody's, so I hop up and start towards the door.

Confirming my thoughts, Jack rolls his eyes gripping onto the woman's thin arm before helping her over the door frame and into the house.

Stepping inside, my curious eyes scan every nook and cranny. It's a small home—the living room cluttered. A forest green couch piled with blankets and pillows. A wooden coffee table littered with mugs and magazines.

Following the two into the kitchen, I'm met with more of the same. Kitchen counters piled with glasses and stacks of opened mail. The small kitchen table decorated with strewn books.

"Sorry," the woman calls as Jack helps her into a wooden chair at the table. "I wasn't expecting guests."

Jack frowns and quickly darts his eyes away to avoid mine.

"Oh, no worries!" I sing out. "I'm no stranger to a mess—not that I'm calling your house a mess, I just—"

She lets out a laugh, cutting me off as she waves a hand up. "Oh, dear, it's fine. It is a mess," she asserts. "Come sit."

I follow her instruction, and join her at the table. Jack busies himself, pulling out some bowls from a cabinet before carrying them over towards the pot on the stove.

"I'm Kate," the woman says extending a thin hand to me. "I'm Jack's mom."

With a smile, I shake it as she confirms my suspicions. They do look quite similar—except she has lighter gray eyes and no apparent hair for me to compare the resemblance.

"I'm Molly," I say as we drop our hands from their embrace.

"Well, nice to meet you. And sorry, wish we were having something more exciting to eat," she says looking over her shoulder at Jack. "But mac and cheese is about all I can do these days."

The woman—Kate, motions a hand over her body and I take it she's unwell. She's remarkably thin—collar bone popping against her freckled skin. And her face is pale, dark circles visible under her eyes.

My heavy eyes look past her to Jack. Is this the stress Principal Wells thought my dad was referencing?

Jack spoons piles of cheesy pasta into the last bowl before carrying them over, teetering on his arm.

"Looks delicious," I say with a smile once he plops one down in front of me.

Still seeming displeased with my presence, Jack sits across from us at the table focusing on his bowl in order to avoid my face.

"Well, shall we?" his mother says with a soft smile before picking up her fork to dig in.