Watch Me Disappear

answer. I can’t imagine why he wants me to go to this party. I flatter myself with the thought that maybe he’s flirting with me, but I know it’s Missy he’s interested in. Still, I gave in. I’m going to the party, mostly because Missy thinks I should go.
    “Get out there and have fun!” she said when I asked her opinion. “Just you showing up with Paul should turn Hunter’s head, right?”
    Maybe she’s onto something.
     
    *          *          *
     
    Paul picks me up promptly at seven, as promised. Instead of just beeping the horn and waiting for me to come out, he comes up and rings the bell. My mother gets to the door before me. I hurry to toss a few things into a purse and run down the stairs.
    “So nice to have met you, Paul,” my mother says as I steer him back out the door.
    “What was that about?” I ask, once safely in the car.
    “I wanted to meet your parents,” he says.
    “What the hell for?”
    “I wanted to meet the people responsible for creating such a charming and well-spoken girl,” he says, grinning.
    “You do not want to meet my parents, I assure you,” I say, crossing my arms and wondering why I have agreed to go to this stupid party.
    “Parents love me,” he says. “Did you eat dinner?”
    This question confuses me. I thought we were going straight to the party. Nonetheless I haven’t really eaten dinner, and I say so.
    “Perfect. Let’s stop at Mel’s.” He takes a left and turns us back toward the center of town instead of out toward John’s house.
    Mel’s is a diner a block off Main Street that’s open 24-hours and serves breakfast all day. We take a booth and Paul orders a coffee and a water when the waitress hands us menus. He can’t believe I’ve never been there before and he assures me I am going to love it. I just nod and look at the menu.
    I have no idea what to order. I have never been out to a restaurant with a guy (other than my brother) before. Is this a date? I have no idea. If I were out with Missy, I’d probably order a hamburger with fries, or waffles with ice cream on top, or a bowl of chowder and garlic bread or something else that girls who want to stay thin aren’t supposed to eat. But if this is supposed to be a date, that changes everything. I can’t eat that kind of greasy, sloppy food in front of Paul. As I read through the menu, I realize there is nothing but greasy, sloppy food, unless I order oatmeal for dinner.
    “They have the best Reubens ever,” Paul says. “And all the breakfast food is great.”
    I sigh and study the menu some more. Finally I look up. “What are you getting?”
    “A bowl of chili and a turkey club with French fries. It’s my standard order.”
    “Everything sounds so—”
    “I didn’t peg you for one of those girls,” Paul says.
    “What?”
    “You know, the kind who order a side salad with dressing on the side and only eat half of it.”
    “I’m not, I just don’t know what to pick.” I am starting to feel panicked. I have no clue how I am supposed to be acting.
    “Well,” he says. “Just get whatever you want. Everything here is good.”
    “Fish and chips?” I ask.
    “Are you sure you want to walk around with fish breath all night?” Paul asks.
    I feel like a complete moron. “I guess I’ll just get eggs and toast,” I say, my face turning red.
    Paul laughs. “I was just teasing. Seriously, you should get whatever you want.”
    When the waitress comes back, I order a waffle sundae and a cup of coffee. Paul places his order and grins at me from across the table. “’Atta girl. You’ve got to respect a girl who gets what she wants.”
    I can’t tell if he is teasing me or not, so I don’t say anything.
    “So Missy’s pretty serious about running, huh?” he asks.
    “So you invited me out to talk about her all night?” I ask in reply.
    “Kidding!” he says, blushing a little. We both know he wasn’t kidding.
    “Well, if you didn’t invite me to talk about her, why did you?” I say, unable to resist.
    “You’re intriguing,” he says, looking me in the eye. “I like our witty exchanges in art class and your sarcastic sense of humor.”
    He seems sincere and I have nothing to say in reply. I look down at my place mat.
    “I wanted to hang out with you,” he says. “That’s all.”
    I wonder if he thinks I have a crush on him or something. “Thanks,” I say.
    “I also thought that as long as I have to go to this party, it might be nice to