Chapter 17

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I was with Katherine trying to figure out a way to celebrate me making it into the 'Berkeley's Got Talent' show. I told her I didn't need a celebration, but she insisted anyway.

   "So what do you wanna do? It's on me." she said.

   "I don't know...what do you suggest?" I asked.

   "Catch a movie...Go out to eat. All sorts of stuff."

   "I don't know. There's nothing I really want to do." I said. That was a complete and total lie. I wanted to do something, anything, with her (everything I say is dirty, isn't it?).

   "The new Spiderman." she offered.

   "Never seen one." I answered.

   "You've never seen a Spiderman movie?"

   "Not that I can think of."

   "There's a first time for everything." she said.

   "And that's why they invented the word virginity." I said. She laughed. I really did like that laugh.

   "Where are we going?" I asked.

   "To my house." Katherine answered.

   "Why?"

   "To watch Spiderman."

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My old neighborhood was the same as I remembered it. Birch trees along the sidewalk. Lawn ornaments cluttering the front lawns. Mr. Wilson's Putt Putt Golf Course.

   "So, where did you live James?" Katherine asked.

   "Me? Oh, I lived right the—." I cut myself off.

   "What? You lived the—." Katherine cut herself off as well. Who wouldn't? When the house you lived in for the first three years of your life that was only one of the few mementos that you had of your parents was turned into a supermarket (next door was the parking lot), you'd cut yourself off too.

   "James, I'm sorry." Katherine comforted.

   "I know. But you'll never understand what it feels like to lose your parents out of the blue one day." I commented.

   "Come on, my house is..."

   "That way." I pointed.

   "How did you..."

   "Exceptional memory." I reminded. Her house wasn't that far and from the outside, the one story house looked pretty bad. The roof was in need of repairs, a gaping, abyss-like hole was on the porch to one side, the front yard was littered with weeds and dead grass, and many other problems in need renovation.

   "It's not the best house." Katherine admitted.

   "I love it." I said.

   "Well...okay then, let's go." she said. She walked up the porch (which creaked eeriely) and unlocked the door. And to my amazement, the inside was refurbished like on Extreme Makeover: Home Improvement. All the appliances seemed to be the latest model, the walls, ceiling, and linoleum plus carpeted floor was perfect without a stain or crack in sight. The house was a symbol of the "Don't judge a book by its cover" cliché.

   "This way." Katherine said. I followed her to apparently what was her room.

   "Why not use the living room television?" I asked.

   "Because."

   "What do you mean, because?"

   "Just because! Now come with me."

   "Alright."

   "Hey, Daddy, I'm home!" she shouted into a closed door.

   "Hi, Kitty (yes, Kitty)! Welcome home!" he yelled from the other side of the door.

   "He's a comic book artist for Marvel." she whispered to me.

   "Awesome." I said.

   "Dad, I feel all bloaty and I'm having cramps. I'm going to lie in bed and watch Spiderman. Okay?" she shouted.

   "What do you mean cramps? Oh...wait...oh. Okay, Kitty, I won't disturb!" he shouted.

   "You're the best, Daddy!" she shouted.

   "You gave him symptoms to keep me a secret?" I whispered.

   "I would die if he found out I had a boy in the house."

   "But I'm only seventeen."

   "It doesn't matter. Go in my room and be quiet while I get some popcorn." she whispered. She opened the door for me and then hurried to the kitchen. Her room was amazing. It was like I was under the sea, with the carpeted blue and the wall decorated with undersea life. Throw pillows and her beanbag chair was blue. Even her bed matched. She even had a blue lava lamp that corresponded with an underwater volcano. This was the best room that belongs to a gir that I've ever seen. It was also the only room that belongs to a girl that I've ever seen (assuming you don't count relatives).

   "Popcorn's ready!" she cried.

   "Yum!" I responded.

   "Alright, gimme a sec..." she said, poking through her massive DVD collection ranging from A to Z. Just then, I thought of a funny romantic icebreaker.

   "Hey, Katherine. Your dad calls you Kitty?" I asked.

   "Yeah, why?" she asked.

   "Talk about a pet name."

   "You be quiet."

   "There's something else actually wanted to tell you."

   "What?"

   "The alphabet. From B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, S, V, W, X, Y, and Z."

   "But that's only twenty-one. There are twenty-six letters in the English alphabet."

   "Oops, I forgot some. U, R, A, Q, T."

   "Good one, James."

   "My pleasure." We sat and watched Spiderman for the next two hours before she finally made me leave by exiting her bedroom window.

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