Page 5 of Wallflower

Mom was in the kitchen when I came out dressed in my pjs.

"Hey," I said.

"Viola," she said, coming and enveloping me in a big hug. "How was your day? Anything interesting happen?"

I confessed my love to a boy—and it was a total disaster.

"Eh, not really," I said. "What about you?"

Mom smiled then led me to the table where dinner was already set up. Pizza. Yum.

"Well, I wrote a couple freelance articles that are due next week, got to edit some freshman papers in English 101 for grammar and formatting. It's always a party when you're an adjunct professor," she laughed.

I shrugged, pulling a slice onto my plate. "Were any of them good?"

"Yes actually, this one kid, Anton, wrote about Harry Potter and how Harry's life was drastically altered by his family dynamic with the Dursleys," she said. "His theory was that Harry might've never been the wizard we all know and love were it not for their cruelty toward him. If they'd treated him better, he wrote, Harry may have never wanted to go back to the wizarding world."

I thought it over. "Hmm, interesting idea, but I disagree."

"Ooh, I knew you'd have some thoughts about this." She raised her brows. "Go on."

"If they'd been nice to him," I said, "Harry still would've wanted to know the truth about his parents. He still would've insisted on finding out the truth about himself and the prophecy with Voldemort. Plus, what about the whole magical wizarding world? Can you honestly say that, even with a nice family, you'd be able to turn down the chance to go if your letter from Hogwarts came in the mail?"

Mom brought her hand up to her chin. "By owl express, you mean…"

We both shook our heads at the same time.

"See Mom," I said. "Harry Potter would've always been Harry Potter no matter what."

"Good point." Mom smiled and put her forehead to mine. "Have I told you lately that you're my favorite muggle?"

"I love you, too," I said.

Dad came in then and crossed his arms. He was still wearing his Durham High soccer shirt with the little soccer ball and "Coach Kent" emblazoned over his left chest.

"What's this?" he said with a frown, though I could see the twinkle in his eyes. The question was addressed to Mom. "If she's your favorite muggle, then what am I?"

Mom sighed. "Becks, we've talked about this. Viola is my favorite muggle. You're my Huckleberry. Always have been."

"And you're my girl, Sal. My heart. Always," he said simply, taking Mom's hand and kissing it.

I grimaced, but secretly loved when they were like this.

"So I guess it's okay that I'm no one's favorite muggle," he said, taking a seat between the two of us. "Even though I'm the most muggle-est person ever. I don't even understand half the things you two talk about most days."

"You're my favorite muggle, Dad."

Mom shot me a faux wounded look, but I just held out my hand.

"What?" I said. "Justlookat him."

Mom chuckled under her breath. "Okay, I see your point."

Dad eyed the two of us. "I think I've just been insulted."

Mom patted his hand, loading pizza onto both of their plates as Dad grumped. It was kind of funny actually.

"But I'll let it slide since I'm starving, and there's pizza," he said and then proceeded to eat a whole slice in seven seconds flat.

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