nowhere by Marysue Hobika

fifty-dollar lobster tail. 
    “I’ll take your word for it. What I’d love is a turkey sandwich with some homegrown lettuce on it. A slice of tomato would taste good too.”
    I scraped my chair loudly across the kitchen floor as I pushed back from the table. Once again I rummaged around, getting out all the ingredients. Only this time I made a turkey sandwich.
    “You sure are like a bull in a china shop,” he snickered.
    My heart softened a little. My dad used to tell me that.
    I’d almost finished making his lunch when he added, “Oh yeah, don’t forget the dill pickle. I like a dill pickle on the side. And no chips for me.”
    “No problem,” I muttered, doing what he’d requested. I placed the plate in front of him.
    “Thanks,” he said, taking a big bite. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
    I sat back down to finish my own lunch.
    “Did you see Emma at school?”
    “Nope.”
    “Didn’t she have cheerleading try-outs today?”
    “I think so.” I didn’t pay much attention to what Emma did.
    “I wonder if she made the squad. She sure seemed excited. It’s good to see her trying to make friends” He was speaking more to himself than to me. “For her sake, I hope she makes the team. What’s your story? You make any friends yet?” 
    “I already have friends. Too bad they’re all on the West Coast.”
    “Humph.”  He crunched into his pickle, ignoring my surly attitude. “What about that truck I saw pull out of my driveway a few minutes ago? I thought I recognized it. Doesn’t it belong to Jack Muldoon’s son? I can’t remember the boy’s first name.” He scratched his head. “What I do know is that he’s one hell of a football player. Why, he’s even got a shot at playing pro ball. Imagine, a farmer’s kid with all that talent. Just goes to show you that you can’t judge a book by its cover.”
    “You and your clichés,” I exclaimed, letting out a deep sigh. “Now I know where Aunt Carol gets them.”
    “What’s wrong with them?” he asked. 
    “Really, Pops,” I said, giving him a nickname. It suited him better than Pop-Pop. I could tell he thought so too. His eyes brightened. 
    Turning serious again, he said, “You didn’t answer my question. Is that Muldoon boy a friend of yours?”
    “His name is James. Most call him Dooner.” I rolled my eyes to indicate how ridiculous his nickname sounded. “Either way, I’d hardly call him a friend. We just met three days ago.”
    “Well, I saw how that boy looked at you, and to me it looked like he’s interested in being more than your friend. I may be old, but I can recognize when a boy wants to court a girl.”
    “Excuse me?” I shook my head. “Do you know what year it is? People don’t use the word ‘court’ anymore.” Once I got beyond the old fashioned vocabulary, I realized that he must have been watching us. My face turned red. “You were spying on us?”
    “I wasn’t spying on you. I was sitting in my chair, working on today’s crossword puzzle, like always. I heard a truck pull in, so I got up to see who it was. The two of you were talking on the porch. It was nothing that concerned me, so I sat back down.”
    I scowled.
    “That reminds me. Today’s puzzle’s a tough one. Maybe you can help. Your mom’s always going on about how smart you are.” He pulled the crossword out of his front shirt pocket.  “Do you know the Spanish word for bear?”
    “Oso.  O-s-o,” I readily responded.
    He clicked his pen and filled in the answer. “By golly, Miss Molly, you’re right. It fits.”
    I shook my head in disbelief at how easily he’d succeeded in distracting me.  “Good one, trying to make me forget that we were talking about you spying on me.” He looked baffled, but Pops was sharper than he was pretending to be. “As I was saying, I don’t know what you saw, but James is not my friend.”
    He raised one eyebrow. “Why not give him a chance? I’m sure he’s a nice fellow.”
    I put it in terms