Friday, 6:30 PM
The week had passed in unusual calm. After the barbecue drama, the robotic arm was almost finished; only the force sensors needed adjusting so it could lift objects without crushing them. Alex had come over two afternoons to help, and together we had written a small program to control the movements from my computer.
That night, while having dinner with my parents, I noticed Susan looking at me with an expression I couldn't decipher.
"Leo," she said, setting down her fork. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"You spend a lot of time at the Dunphys'. Almost every day after school. Weekends too."
"They're my friends," I replied, not understanding where she was going.
"I know. And I'm glad you have friends. Since we moved here, you were so... alone." She paused, searching for words. "But I don't know that family. I don't know who they are. And you spend more time with them than with us."
Mark set down his fork too. "Your mother's right. It's not that we don't trust you, Leo. But we'd like to meet the people you spend so much time with."
"They're a normal family," I said, though I knew "normal" wasn't the exact word to describe the Dunphys. "Phil works in real estate. Claire is a stay-at-home mom, though she used to work in hospitality. They have three kids: Haley, Alex, and Luke."
"Alex is your friend, right?" Susan asked, her tone trying to be casual.
"She's my best friend."
Susan and Mark exchanged a look.
"Would you like to invite them to dinner?" Susan proposed. "So we can meet them. It could be this Saturday."
The idea caught me by surprise. In six years in this world, my parents had never shown interest in meeting the Dunphys. They'd been cordial at neighborhood parties, exchanged cookies at Christmas, but they'd never crossed the threshold of their house nor invited them to ours.
"This Saturday?" I repeated, checking I'd heard correctly.
"If it's not too much trouble for them," Mark said. "We can make something simple. An informal dinner."
"I'll ask them," I replied, and the enthusiasm in my voice must have been evident because Susan smiled.
Saturday, 7:00 PM
The Bennett house had never been so tidy. Susan had spent all afternoon cleaning, cooking, arranging flowers in a vase she only used at Christmas. Mark had mowed the lawn twice, cleaned the grill, and organized the garage with a meticulousness bordering on obsessive.
I stood at the door, hands in my pockets, with a knot in my stomach I didn't know was nervousness or excitement.
Phil's car stopped in front of the house at 7:05. Everyone got out: Phil with a bottle of wine and a smile that lit up the street; Claire with a tray of freshly baked cookies; Haley with her phone in hand and an expression of studied boredom; Luke with a water gun Claire confiscated before he reached the door.
And Alex. Alex in her red dress, the one she'd chosen with Gloria, her hair loose over her shoulders, her glasses perched on her nose like a shield.
"Welcome!" Susan said, opening the door before I could knock. "Come in, come in! What a joy to finally meet you."
Phil entered first, the wine bottle held high. "Thanks for having us! This is for you. An Argentine Malbec. I don't know if it's good, but the salesman said it was 'very respectable,' and he sounded convincing."
Susan took the bottle with a smile that didn't betray her surprise. "Thank you so much, Phil. How kind."
Claire held out the cookie tray. "Oatmeal raisin. Nothing special, but the kids like them."
"They smell delicious!" Mark said, appearing behind Susan. "Come into the living room, please. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."
The living room had never seemed so small. Phil and Claire took the main sofa, Haley on one side and Luke on the other, who was already examining the knick-knacks on the shelf with the curiosity of an explorer. Alex sat in the armchair, hands in her lap, with an expression trying to be neutral but not quite succeeding.
I sat on the arm of her chair. Close enough for her to know she wasn't alone; far enough not to be uncomfortable.
"Leo has told us a lot about you," Susan said, sitting across from them. "He said you're a very... close family."
"Close is one word," Claire said with a smile half pride, half resignation. "You could also say noisy. Or chaotic. Or 'constantly on the edge of controlled disaster.'"
"Controlled is the key word!" Phil added. "We're always on the edge, but we never fall. It's like juggling, but with three kids instead of balls."
"And sometimes the balls drop," Alex murmured, and I had to stifle a laugh.
Susan looked at her with interest. "You're Alex, right? Leo talks about you a lot."
Alex stiffened. "What does he say?"
"He says you're the smartest person he knows. And that you've taught him more about drawing and robotics than any book."
Alex's cheeks turned pink. "He exaggerates. He learned most of it himself."
"I'm not exaggerating," I said. "You taught me perspective. And how to calibrate servomotors. And how to read circuit diagrams."
"That's not teaching. That's... sharing information."
"That is teaching," Claire said, with a smile of pure maternal pride. "Even if you hate to admit it."
Mark appeared in the dining room doorway. "Dinner is ready. Please, come in."
Dinner had been a success. Phil had told three bad jokes, all met with polite laughter. Claire had discovered Susan had also worked in hospitality before marrying, and the two had spent twenty minutes swapping stories about impossible guests. Luke had tried to stick a fork in the wall outlet, but Mark had stopped him in time, earning Claire's eternal gratitude.
And Alex... Alex had been quiet through most of dinner, answering my parents' questions in monosyllables, watching everything with her analytical eyes.
But when Mark asked about the robotic arm, her face lit up.
"It's an incredible project," she said with an animation she hadn't shown all night. "Leo found it in a scrapyard, disassembled it piece by piece, identified every component, replaced the burnt-out motors, and recalibrated the sensors. It now has six degrees of freedom and can lift up to two kilograms without losing stability."
Mark looked at her, eyes wide. "And you helped?"
"I only adjusted the servomotors. He did all the heavy lifting."
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Leo's parents finally met the Dunphys.
And Susan, Leo's mom, looked at Alex and saw something Claire hadn't noticed yet.
Who made the best impression? Phil's wine, Claire's cookies, or Alex's robotics lecture? 🍷🍪🤖
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