What does Scott's curious mother have in store for Jemma?
"Oh, um, hi Scott, what are you doing here?" I was suddenly nervous, and my palms started sweating.
"You know, just got some major shoplifting to catch up on," he joked.
"Oh, Yahh, me too," I awkwardly joked with him. I wiped my wet hands on my apron, and swallowed the vomit that had creeped up my throat.
"Are you alright? You seem a little, um, gray."
"Gray? Gray how? Like sad, gloomy, rainy days on Mondays gray or like, um, oh my god you're gonna cough up a lung gray?"
"Actually, more like the who do you think you are, coming up to my counter when we go to the same school gray. And some of the lung kind too."
"I think it's the cough up a lung gray. Don't know about the 'we go to the same school?' gray, because it's actually pretty okay for me to see you here. It's a shocking and welcome change though, because I'm not used to seeing someone who's over six and under sixty in this store." Had I just kind of, complimented him? I don't care how he took it, but I had made him laugh again. I cannot get enough of his, cheerful, full of life, laugh.
"Happy to make you happy," he said, not realizing the loud flip flopping sound my stomach made when he said this.
"So, what are you really doing here? Or did you just plan on playing 'What Color is Your Face' for my entire shift?"
"Actually, I was planning on saving that for tomorrow," I smiled when he said this. So there was a tomorrow now? "Today I thought you would tell me your bio."
"Oh, you want my notes? They're not very good, but-"
"Your biography. I told you mine in class today, so I thought that it was only fair that you do me the same courtesy."
"Only fair, huh? Hold, on let me get my bag, I think I've got the manuscript somewhere in there," he smiled, my heart fluttered. "Why do you want to know anyway? Wait, are you planning on stalking me? Oh, duh, how could I have not seen the signs?" I teased him. "You suddenly moved here, claiming you had to miss your first week of school so you could help your parents move in. HA!
In truth you moved here alone, in order to stake out new meat, and you really spent last week forming your plan. It couldn't have been easier to find your prey. In fact, you ran head-first into it. Well, I guess this is where I grab my pepper spray." I began to reach into my apron, pretending to retrieve my pepper spray. I would've kept the charade going for a few minutes longer, if he hadn't had gently touched my elbow, paralyzing my arm.
"Come now, Jemma. Did it ever occur to you that that may be exactly what I wanted you to think?" I gave him a playful slap on his arm after that, and then, he just looked at me. Very intently he stared at me, as if he was deciding whether or not a banana was ripe enough. Then, as soon as the moment had started, it had ended, and he was talking again.
"Actually, if you want the real truth, I'm not a stalker, but a Momma's boy."
"A Mamma's Boy? Why is that?"
"Because I can't blow her off like other people can. I'm just too darn nice."
"I wouldn't classify that as being a Mamma's Boy. In my book, that's classified as decent human being. But, I'm sorry, not really following here.
What does this have to do with my life story?"
"That's just it. My mother wanted to know all about you. I come home; 'Scott, did you make any friends?' 'Yahh mom.' 'What are their names?' Next thing you know she's gone crazy because one of my friends is a girl. She wants to know everything about you. Your favorite color, movie, book, when she found out you liked poetry; she was to say the least surprised, kind of like my reaction. Oh and by the by, if you wanted to get a restraining order for severe stalkerage, file it against my mother. She's insane."
"I think it's actually kind of sweet, caring so much about your son's friends. Shows she cares."
"Yahh, well, as much as I don't want you to freak out and avoid me after the interrogation you're about to experience, I will understand completely if you do. Just remember, my mom wrote the questions, down not me."
"She wrote them down?"
"Yahh, I know. Well, here's the first question I guess. You're stranded on an island, all alone, what two things do you have with you?"
"You have got to be kidding me."
"Sorry," he sounded it.
"Um, I guess I would have my collection of Jane Austen novels, in case I get bored, and uhh, a kazoo, if I have a sudden musical urge."
"Really, no food or water to survive or anything like that? Living isn't your main puragative?
"Chances are no one is going to actually find me. So why waste perfectly good food and water when someone else might need it? Besides, I'm most likely going to be really bored, unless there are monkeys on this island, which I can train, and become the last remaining member of the Swiss Family Robinson."
"So being stranded on an island doesn't constitute the means to need food and water? You could starve."
"But I wouldn't be bored, and I guarantee you I would be much better at kazooing." He laughed, finally convinced that he wouldn't get a better answer.
"Okay next question-"Scott started but I stopped him.
"Hold on a sec, I have a real customer."
I let the customer order. She looked like she was about sixty years old and had on a face that looked understanding.
"Sorry you had to wait. Talky-McGee over here wouldn't stop doing what he does best."
"It's quite alright dear. I know how boyfriends can be."
Oh. My. God.
I just nodded my head and rang her order up.
When I went to inform Rachel that she had to make a small black coffee she leaned over and whispered into my ear.
"So you and 'Hot' Harrison going out now!"
"Um, no. It's not like that."
"Sure it isn't. She winked, "Here's your beverage." When I returned to the counter, Scott was still there, waiting for me to give the old woman her coffee. It was then that I realized that I really liked Scott. It wasn't just a crush anymore. Because once I had served the customer, Scott started right where we left off, as if the boyfriend remark had never been said, and I was positive that he had heard it. The fact that he didn't bring it up, or tease me, or look disgusted and run for the door, meant that either he was either very considerate, or embarrassed.
"Okay, last one, what do you enjoy most?" I was growing tired, and I could tell Scott was too. There was a tone of weariness in his voice.
"Um, pina coladas and getting caught in the rain," I smiled.
"Seriously Jem, my mom doesn't believe in underage drinking." he joked back.
"Fine." Uhh, reading and writing. The fundamental things," I said. It was hard to come up with an answer, because my mind went hazy after he said Jem again.
"Reading and writing," he repeated scribbling it down on his mom's survey, "All right then. I guess that's it. Now I know everything I would ever want to know about Jemma Summers, and some things I would rather not know."
I smiled, "Your mom asked, blame her." And then suddenly it hit me.
How weird is this? What kind of mother would freakishly write out an entire survey for her son's new friend? Maybe he wanted to know this crap about me, but was trying to conceal it by telling me it was his mom's idea. Stalker.
"Uh, hey Scott? Does your mom do this with all of your friends?"
"Why me? Was it like a random drawing, and I was chosen?"
"Actually this is the result of one of her son's new friends being of the female sex."
"Look, it's a long story, but I haven't had a girl friend since my last breakup, and my mom was just excited I guess, so she wrote this."
"Oh," this hadn't been the answer I was expecting. "Really?"
As Scott left, I realized that he could have been lying to me. He could've been a stalker. He could've been just a boy who was trying to get close to me so he could take advantage of me. HE could've been finding all the dirt he could about me, for future blackmail. Scott could've been anyone, doing anything. But as he left the counter, giving me a salute and telling me good bye, I somehow knew that this wasn't what Scott was. He was telling me the truth, and in a world of lies, that can change everything.