Chapter Twelve
I must have fallen asleep for some time, because when I finally sat up, there was more knocking, and a different voice calling, “Emi?”
I gasped, standing and unlocking the door. Stephen stumbled into my room, his forehead creased and his eyes rimmed with shadows.
“Oh Emi, I was so worried,” Stephen mumbled, staggering to the edge of my bed and sitting down. “When I heard that the hotel that you were staying at blew up, I figured that you used the… You Know What. But that didn’t stop my worries, obviously. I rushed to the scene with my friend, Wolfgang, and a server rushed out, saying that he hadn’t seen you leave. I didn’t know what to do. I told my leader that my sister was in that hotel, and I must get back to my family to inform them of my worries.
“My leader believed my lie, gave me money for a train ticket, and told me to have a good weekend. I rushed here as soon as I got back. Your father looked at me like… me and you had a connection. So just prepare yourself for an embarrassing conversation after this. I didn’t say anything about being positive that anything would happen!” He said to my glare and half groan. “I was just preparing you for the worst case scenario.”
Why did it have to be so weird to have a boy as a friend? Ugh, it was so annoying having to explain everything.
Stephen left soon after his explanation, claiming that his “parents” would be worried if he returned late. I headed downstairs for dinner, seeing as I had missed lunch while I was on the train.
* * *
“So, Emilia,” My father cleared his throat loudly. I looked up from my soup.
“I heard that your ‘friend’ is calling you ‘Emi’,”
“Uh… so?”
“So, Frau Muller and I–”
“You mean ‘mother and I’?”
“No. Frau Muller and I were wondering if you and him… were something…”
“No! Ew! I’m only fourteen, Vater!”
“I suppose fourteen is old enough to date,”
“This is the worst ever…” I groaned, turning to my silent mother, silently begging her to change the subject.
She ignored me.
Vater finally left the subject alone, on the embarrassing note that despite what I might think, I might as well accept that Stephen was more. I didn’t understand what he meant. Or maybe my brain just decided that it didn’t know what to think about this stuff, because as soon as I lay down in my bed, I forgot all about it.