"No, Stacy is...or she's going to be if she doesn't..." Mikey trailed off. He took a step forward, and nearly stumbled. He looked down. He was wearing a pair of beige leather shoes...the shoes his mother had kicked off.
"Linda and I are going to be bestest best friends," Stacy said, firmly.
"Yeah!" Linda said, agreeably. She looked at Mikey. "Can we go play till dinner? Please?!"
"What about homework?" He asked. She was supposed to be helping him.
"We don't have any," Stacy said. "Come on, Linda."
The two skipped out of the room. Mikey followed them, getting used to the shoes. He heard the sound of the TV still going. His dad, Roger, had been watching the game. He decided to get his father's help first. His father was sitting on the couch, dressed in a sweatshirt and comfy sweatpants with the logo of his team on it and wearing his lucky team hat, holding a can. Roger's preferred team could use all the help they could get, not having been champions since before Mikey was born. "I need your help," Mikey said.
"What? With dinner?" Roger said.
"No...with Stacy....she's a witch or something..."
"I know some girls act like little monsters sometimes..." he remarked, his voice going up an octave. "What were you like when you were her age?"
Mikey frowned at him, that seemed odd somehow.
