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It was a Saturday night and Logan was doing schoolwork. He literally couldn’t think of anything better to do. He was actually wishing away the holiday so he could go back to school for some fun.
Normally he and his mother would go out, take in a show, have a meal, meet friends, go ice-skating. Something like that. But this year his mother was “taking it easy” and resting a lot, and he was expected to do things with Weird Wendy instead. Her father had tried to force Wendy to include Logan in her daytime plans, but as she was mostly doing volunteer work, Logan had cried off, claiming he had exam study to do. And here he was, studying. Talk about pathetic.
A lot of the time he was able to chat with friends, do some messaging with a couple of cute girls, or catch up with his best friend, Trent, who had moved to Canada. But not on a Saturday night. He didn’t want to be seen online and have people assume he really was a loser with no social life outside of school.
He was even bored enough to consider knocking on Wendy’s door and asking if she wanted to join him in a game of Monopoly or Scrabble.
He listened to her come in from her volunteer job, and to the sounds of her running a bath, then it had all gone quiet.
He was pretty sure she had been avoiding him for the last few days. They had all been together for Christmas Day, which had been a pleasant affair, with good food and then an afternoon watching old movies in front of the fire, but mealtimes were otherwise quite strained, and Wendy had taken to leaving early and coming back late. They were now stuck in the quiet days between Christmas and New Year, and Logan was getting restless.
Was she out of her bath yet? Or was she the sort to wallow for hours in salt crystals or bubbles?
Sod it – he was desperate for some company. He got up and knocked on her door.
Wendy took a while to open it. She was wearing a dressing gown belted at the waist, her black and purple hair was wrapped in a cream towel, and her face was pink and shining with none of her usual heavy make-up.
“Gosh, you look pretty,” he said before his brain could stop his mouth.
For a second she blinked at him, looking pleased, but then a deep frown formed and her lips tightened.
“What do you want, loser?”
“I’m bored,” he said and shrugged.
“So you thought you’d come and flatter me with fake compliments and I'd entertain you?”
He rolled his eyes. “You wish. Forget I even knocked.” He turned to go back to his own room. “I’ll leave you to put your witch clothes back on. That cute look doesn’t suit your personality.”
***
WENDY SNAPPED THE DOOR shut and then leaned against it, feeling annoyed. But the annoyance was quickly gone; instead she felt hurt. His words had stung. Did she really look prettier in a baggy dressing gown with no makeup? Not that she remotely cared about such things. But it was nice to think that he’d genuinely meant it. Somehow she thought he had, like he’d spoken before he remembered how much they disliked each other. On the other hand, she definitely didn’t want to look “cute” on purpose. She hated girls that spent hours trying to look a certain way just to be more attractive to boys. She always dressed in clothes that she liked, not for anyone else. But the comment hurt because she liked her look, and he’d liked her more without it. Well, tough luck, he had to take her as she was or not at all.
No, wait. She didn’t want him to take her in any way! She wanted him to get out of her life, not accept her.
She dried her hair and then pulled on some purple satin pyjamas. They were respectable enough that she could hang out with Logan while wearing them. They weren’t sexy or anything like that, just comfortable. She paused in front of the mirror and decided that as it was an evening at home she would be mad to put on make-up. Well, not much, she amended as she brushed some mascara onto her lashes. But she stopped there. Not because Logan liked her without it, definitely not that. But she would never normally put on a load of eyeliner after a bedtime bath.
Having considered her logic and decided that it was sound, she went across the hall and tapped on the door.
“Yeah?” he called from inside.
She opened it and he looked up suspiciously from where he sat at his desk.
“You want to play some Combat Slam?” she said.
He smiled, relief clear in his face. “Definitely.”
Returning to her room, they pulled cushions and throws onto the floor and then settled down to beat each other to a pulp on the TV screen.
“Total knock-out!” he crowed, as his character pulverised hers in the first round.
“You’ve played before,” she said, giving him a side glance.
“Maybe,” he teased.
“Okay, I was going easy on you, but you asked for this.” She switched characters, changing from a petite Japanese ninja to a Nordic blonde with biceps to rival any man’s. She performed a volley of punches to his face and then finished with a flying roundhouse kick, sending him crashing from the ring.
Two more rounds and she raised her fist in triumph at winning three in a row.
“Nice moves,” he said agreeably, “but I too was going easy.”
He also switched characters, selecting the same girl she had started with.
“Bring it on, biyach.” He made his new character spin in the air a couple of times to show off.
She rolled her eyes. “You so did not just say that.”
He chuckled, and prepared to engage but she hit pause.
“Is Lah your favourite character to play?” she asked curiously.
“Maybe,” he said again.
“Why her? Most guys choose, well, a guy.”
“Because she’s hot.” He gave a rueful smile. “Why did you start as her?”
“The usual reason, I like playing the character that most looks like me.”
“Yeah, she does look like you.”
The silence stretched for several seconds while he looked at his character considering it, and she stared unseeing at the TV as she realised what they had both said.
She shook off the awkward moment. “Prepare to be pummelled, whatever face you’re wearing.”
He raised an eyebrow and inclined his head as Lah bowed low to her opponent.