Wicked Whims

The Scarecrow

Written by Angel E. Wright

"Mom, you can't be serious!"

My mom sighs and turns from the island counter in our kitchen to face me. Dusting her flour-covered hands on her apron, she says, "Why would I make that up, Lexi? Does it look like I have time for games right now?"

I huff and kick at the floor before crossing my arms over my chest. "A little heads up would've been nice."

"Last I checked, this was my house, and I was allowed to invite whoever I wanted over for dinner." She spins back around and continues kneading the dough, causing puffs of flour to swirl around her like leaves in the wind. "When you start paying the mortgage, you can dictate what goes on here."

Argh! I hate when she pulls this card! Don't get me wrong, my mother and I get along great, but every once in a while, she pulls some annoying, 'only-mom-can-do' shit like this and it drives me nuts.

"But he hates me, Mom! How am I supposed to be thankful when I'm sitting at the table with my mortal enemy?"

Without even bothering to look up from her work, my mom says, "Oh stop with the theatrics, Alexandra. Always so dramatic." She shakes her head in annoyance before giving me her attention again.

"I am not being dramatic!" I scream, stomping on the ground. Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic. I take a breath before trying to explain to my dear, sweet, naïve mother in a calm, mature and rational manner why I want to avoid her best friend's son at all costs. "He's always picking on me."

"Oh, honey," she says with sweet condescension, "that's probably because he likes you."

"No, Mom," I counter, "that's what people in your generation say to excuse abusive behaviour."

"For heaven's sake, not this again," Mom mutters under her breath. "Your father picked on me all through junior high and look how we turned out."

"The way Dad tells it, you were the one picking on him." I raise my brow and cock my head to the side, challenging her to 'fess up.

"Whatever, you know that's not true." She picks up the rolling pin, maneuvering it over the dough a few times. "Now go and make yourself useful and set the table before washing up. They'll be here in a couple hours."

Knowing this is a battle that I simply won't win, I begrudgingly stomp around the kitchen and dining room, putting the plates, glasses, and cutlery down much harder than is warranted. This is not how Thanksgiving dinner was supposed to be. My Oma and Opa backed out at the last minute because they weren't feeling up to making the drive out to our farmhouse in the country. Alison, my cousin and best friend, has to spend this holiday with her dad's side of the family. I had resigned myself to our little family turkey dinner, and now Mom has sprung this horrendous surprise on me. Not cool!

He, the wretched boy in question, is Keith Jacobs, the only son of my mom's bestest friend. He's a year older than me, and I'm sure our mom's have been plotting our eventual marriage since before we even existed. Throughout my entire life, he's been an absolute menace, terrorizing me the way only a bratty older brother could, and we're not even related. These past five years have been the only reprieve I've had—his dad was transferred to Calgary for work, effectively removing Keith Jacobs from my life forever. Or so I thought...

After finishing in the dining room, I go to my room to get ready. I was so excited to be spending a nice, quiet dinner with my parents and then maybe taking a walk through our corn fields after dinner before relaxing in front of the fireplace to watch a family favourite, The Princess Bride. Now, I barely want to change into "nice" clothes for our company coming later. But I know I'll never hear the end of it if I don't, so I put on my big girl panties and suck it up. I can survive a few hours with Keith Jacobs, right?