Laura Steven - The Love Hypothesis

‘What are you guys doing today?’ I ask, crunching into a brimming bowl of Lucky Charms. I chuck one to Sirius under the table, but he just stares at it like it’s a hand grenade.

Dad finishes his mouthful of bran before responding plainly, ‘I plan to visit the police station, on account of the fact we have been burgled.’

Vati and I both gape at him. ‘What?’

‘It is the most likely explanation.’

I look at Dad in bewilderment. ‘Explanation for what?’

‘The missing object.’ His face betrays no emotion or affectation. He is impossible to read, even when you’ve lived with him as long as I have. You’d have more luck trying to psychoanalyze a park bench.

Vati drains his coffee mug and immediately pours another. ‘What’s missing?’

‘Well, Felix, during my bi-weekly kitchen stock-take this morning, I discovered a discrepancy in the quantity of wine glasses in the bar cabinet. Wine glasses are sold in boxes of four or six, to reflect the nonsensical societal preference for even numbers, and yet our cabinet currently contains a mere five glasses. Having checked the trash to ensure none had been smashed or discarded, I deduced that one had been stolen in the night. Would you like to accompany me to the police station?’

Shit! The wine glass! I was so caught up in my covert pill-purchasing operation that I forgot to return the glass to the cabinet. It’s still on my bedside, burgundy dregs turning to syrup in the bottom. I shoot Vati a panicked look, and he immediately understands what’s happened.

Unfortunately, so does Dad.

‘I see.’ Dad lays down his spoon and folds his arms. This is much more serious than it sounds, because there’s still bran cereal floating in the milk. Dad is not one to compromise the structural integrity of his breakfast by leaving it to swim in half-and-half. ‘And how long have you suffered from alcoholism, Caro?’

I splutter, trying to compose myself. ‘I’m not an alcoholic! I just had half a glass of red wine last night, that’s all. Eighteen is the legal drinking age in Europe.’

‘You’re seventeen. And this is South Carolina.’

I try to fight the urge to roll my eyes. ‘I’m not an alcoholic.’

‘Why did you want a glass of wine?’

I shrug, pushing Lucky Charms around my bowl with my spoon. ‘I dunno. I’d had a crappy day, alright?’

Dad nods knowingly. ‘Classic sign of addiction.’

Bless his soul, Vati breaks the tension with a bark of laughter. ‘Lay off her, Michael. It was one kleine glass of wine. No big deal. You’re not going to do it again, are you Caro?’

‘No.’ I suspect this might be a lie, but still.

‘And you’re going to return the wine glass to the cabinet in immaculate condition, right?’

‘Yep. Ja .’

‘So, there’s no problem, is there?’ Vati smiles, even though it looks to be causing him great physical pain. ‘You don’t have to attend the police station today, Michael.’

Dad rises from the table, pours his ruined cereal into the sink, and starts toward the door. ‘Perhaps I shall research the best juvenile rehabilitation programmes instead.’

I look at Vati, and we both press our lips together to keep from laughing. I polish off my cereal before the hilarity can escape. ‘Okay, I gotta get to school.’

‘Good luck with your seduction today.’ He winks in a horrifying sort of manner.

As a furious blush spreads across my cheeks, I roll my eyes again. ‘You’re the worst.’

‘ Danke ,’ he says earnestly, bowing like some kind of royal thespian.

After the last class of the day, I meet Gabriela at Keiko’s locker and we catch up about our days, since we all take such different classes. Keiko does most of the talking, as per, about how her art teacher is a pervert and her drama teacher is the single best human being on this earth.

Slamming her locker shut and popping a stick of gum into her mouth, Keiko says, ‘What shall we do this weekend? My parents and dweeb sister are out of town and I don’t have any gigs, so it’s on y’all to entertain me.’

I accept a stick of gum and start chattering like a chimp. ‘Oooh, there’s this touring exhibit in town that I’m dying to go to. It’s basically a bunch of artifacts from Pompeii, and there’s a CGI simulation of the volcanic eruption at the end.’

‘Spoilers,’ says Keiko, affronted.

I gape at her. ‘You didn’t know Pompeii was wiped out by a volcano?’

‘I thought it was just a catchy Bastille song.’

Honestly. How are we friends.

Shaking off my astonishment, I say, ‘So are you in?’

Keiko looks like I might have suggested waterboarding each other in the creek. ‘Museums are for the very old and the very tragic, and we are neither of those things. Gabs? Any ideas?’

Gabriela shrugs. She looks a little distant and jaded, and her winged eyeliner is smudged, which is pretty unusual for her. ‘I think me and Ryan were just going to hang out at home. Watch some YouTube, eat some snacks. I dunno. I’m super tired lately.’

‘Okay, grandma.’ Keiko rolls her eyes. ‘You are one hundred years old, and I’m overruling you both. Let’s go see that new movie about the rock star who falls in love with her manager. It’s basically the exact fantasy I get myself off to, so I can’t promise not to start dry-humping the popcorn bucket.’

I snort-laugh in a very elegant manner. ‘You are horrific.’

Keiko tuts and wags her finger in my face. ‘That’s slut-shaming and you’re better than that. And also homophobic. Is lesbian sex so abhorrent to you?’ I blush, and Keiko cackles at my panicked expression. ‘Anyway, I gotta scoot,’ she says. ‘Detention again. Ah, the life of a misunderstood rebel.’

‘Try not to dry-hump any desks,’ I call after her as she sashays down the hallway in her skull-print dress. Gabriela, who hates sex-based banter, squirms beside me.

As she’s about to turn the corner, Keiko presses herself against a wall of lockers and makes an elaborate groan of ecstasy. ‘No promises. Toodles!’

Once she’s shaken off the unspeakable horror of the last few seconds, Gabriela mumbles, ‘I’ll go with you to the Vesuvius exhibit, if you want.’

We start walking to the school gates. I grin gratefully. ‘Thanks.’

Gabriela smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘Let’s just . . . not tell Keiko, okay? That we’re hanging out without her.’

This makes me feel a little weird – Keiko has been my ride-or-die since kindergarten – but I get Gabriela’s point. Keiko only does what Keiko wants to do, but still gets upset when people do things without her. ‘Agreed. Everything okay with you? You mentioned being tired a lot.’

Gabriela stares at her black Birkenstocks as we walk. Her nails are painted paprika red, and she wears a turquoise toe-ring. ‘Yeah, I guess. I don’t know what’s up with me. Maybe I’m just lazy.’

‘Dude, you’re anything but lazy. You speak a catrillion languages, tutor six hundred kids a week, and you have your makeup Insta on the side. What are you at now, twenty k followers?’

A small quirk at the corner of her lips. ‘Twenty-two.’

‘Exactly. You’re killing the game.’

Gabriela brightens up at this and hoists her backpack further up her shoulder. ‘Speaking of, when are you going to let me give you that makeover? I’ve had the palettes picked out for months. Your cheekbones are going to look insaaane.’

Gabriela’s been asking to give me a makeover for ages, ever since she first got into the beauty scene, and it makes me feel kind of weird. I’ve never been into that stuff, and it feels kind of like she’s trying to . . . fix me? Make me less offensive to look at? In any case, no matter how uncomfortable it makes me, I’d never say anything to Gabriela, because I know how much she loves it. She probably doesn’t think of it that way at all; she’s the least malicious person I’ve ever met. Still, it’s starting to get under my skin.