Well hopefully this goes well...

For my flesh had turned to fur, yeah, and my thoughts they surely were

Amelia was definitely surprised by where Nick took her for their “date” together, even though she did an excellent job as always of hiding it.

Nick couldn’t blame her, it wasn’t the sort of thing he would have expected him to suggest either.

“Bowling?” She looked at him and raised her eyebrow. For Amelia, that gesture was more than enough to denote surprise.

“What?” Nick returned her perplexed look with an innocent one of his own. “You don’t like bowling?”

“…No comment,” Amelia replied. For most people, that would have been a subtle (or not-so-subtle) deflection of the matter, an admission by omission that, no, they did not like bowling but were too polite to say so.

…For Amelia, it really did mean “no comment”. Or more specifically, she meant to convey “I don’t have an opinion on bowling one way or another” but believed “no comment” was an adequate enough way of explaining that.

Fortunately, Nick knew his stepmother well enough to read her at least to that extent, and thus wasn’t bothered by her statement. He just smiled.

“I’m glad,” he said, leading her into the hotel’s bowling alley. “We can try and enjoy it together, then!”

For Nick, this was a bit of a tricky gamble. He knew Amelia wasn’t exactly a sporty person, but bowling wasn’t really a sport, right? At best, it was as much of a sport as mini-golf (or regular golf, let’s be real here) was a sport.

Amelia had told him to improvise instead of coming up with a fully thought-out date plan.

Well, in improvising, Nick had come to realize that he didn’t know that much about his stepmother, which was rather disheartening given she’d been in his life for about twenty years or so, and was the only family he really had left.

Amelia was a very private person. Even when they lived together she kept her heart very close to her chest. He knew, vaguely, what kinds of movies she liked, what kinds of books she read, that she wasn’t a good cook but was trying to improve, that she did her best when it came to housework, and that she was very meticulous and detail-oriented, but hobbies? Interests?

Those things just never seemed to arise as topics of conversation in their house. He wasn’t sure Amelia even knew how to relax and have fun.

So he decided to try something new for the both of them, and hope they could enjoy themselves. There was no need to take bowling seriously and they could talk as much or as little as they wanted while they played.

“So this is a bowling alley…” Amelia looked around the room, which took up far more space than was probably needed. Were twenty lanes for the twenty people staying in the hotel right now really necessary? Were they ALL going to bowl at the same time?

Amelia crinkled her nose and immediately Nick could tell they might have a problem. Dakota had gone all-out in recreating the perfect image of a bowling alley, right down to the smell of grease and sweat lingering around them.

Not exactly the most appealing thing for a woman as obsessed with cleanliness as Amelia.

“S-sorry, this place kind of smells,” Nick apologized, already starting to panic. Maybe this was a bad idea. He really should come up with something else, fast! “Look, if you don’t want to be here, then-”

“No,” Amelia interrupted him with a shake of her head.

Nick’s shoulders sagged. Just as he’d feared. “…Okay, then-”

“My apologies, that is not what I meant,” Amelia quickly- and rudely- interrupted him again. She’d been doing that a lot lately, to Nick’s confusion. Normally she listened patiently for people to finish talking before she shared her own thoughts, unless there was something urgent that needed stating immediately.

So for her to be acting like this, something must have really been wrong. There had to be a reason why she was behaving so absentmindedly, right? Like her thoughts were elsewhere? But Nick didn’t have time to dwell on that possibility because Amelia was still explaining herself.

“I meant that there is no need to go elsewhere,” she clarified, shaking her head. She adjusted her glasses and crinkled her nose again, the distaste evident on her face, in spite of her best attempts to conceal it. “This is an excellent representation of a common dating activity. The foul odor is merely an aspect of authenticity. You certainly cannot be blamed for that.”

Well, Nick appreciated that she wasn’t holding him responsible for the smell of the Hotel Bowling Alley, at least.

“I will confess I have never gone bowling before,” Amelia said, walking to the counter. “This will be a new experience for me then. Very good choice, Nicholas.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “It… it is?”

She looked back at him and nodded. “A new experience for your partner and an activity you can both enjoy together is an excellent date choice. A good start. The rest will come down to how well you execute the date itself.”

Well… Nick hoped it would go well at least. But with how off Amelia seemed to be compared to this morning when he’d talked to her, he wasn’t so sure.

Did something happen in class? Or is something else going on? He wondered. Amelia wasn’t the only one acting weird. Dakota had been off recently too. And Mary had been behaving strangely the other night. It seemed like there was a tension building in the air all around him, but everybody was keeping it from him in particular.

That wasn’t a pleasant sensation to feel a part of, for obvious reasons. Nick tried not to let it bother him. But it wasn’t easy.

“Now then.” Amelia turned to the red-haired faerie at the counter. “My steps- …Ahem.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “…My date and I would like to bowl.”

The faerie blinked, and then smirked. “Right, sure, your ‘date’,” she said, making quotes in the air with her tiny fingers. “Sure thing! The balls are already on the lanes, just tell me your shoe sizes and we’re good to go.”

Nick bristled. “Wait, what?”

“Why would that information be necessary?” Amelia questioned, raising her eyebrow.

The faerie looked at the two of them. “What, this your first time bowling or something? You gotta rent bowling shoes.”

Nick hadn’t even thought of that. His eyes immediately shot to Amelia, who was making a sour face.

“…Rent shoes?” She said “rent” like it was a four-letter word. …Which it was. But never mind that. “Why would that be necessary?”

“You can’t wear your normal shoes on a bowling lane, you’ll scuff it up!” The faerie said, shaking her head. Her tiny wings fluttered as she flew over to a large shelf filled with bowling shoes. “You need to rent bowling shoes.”

“That is completely out of the question.”

Nick should have expected this to happen. If he’d remembered that renting shoes was part of bowling, he’d never have brought Amelia here on their date!

Amelia was very particular about her clothing. Specifically, she didn’t let other people wear her clothes, and she didn’t wear clothes that belonged to other people.

She was even more protective of her shoes. When she’d lost one of her boots on a ski trip, Nick’s dad had suggested that they just rent a pair of ski boots from the lodge. She had categorically refused, stating that under no circumstances would she allow her feet to share the space with countless other people’s feet, and she had not gone on the mountain for the entire week they were up there- and the trip had been her suggestion!

“Look lady, I don’t make the rules here,” the belligerent faerie crossed her arms over her chest. “You can either rent a pair of bowling shoes, free of charge, or you can get lost.”

“Unacceptable.”

This was spiraling out of control. Nick was sweating bullets trying to come up with a solution before this date got completely ruined- and it hadn’t even really started yet! Amelia wasn’t paying attention to him right now, but he knew that once this whole bowling shoe mess got resolved she would be holding this against him for the rest of the date- and he would really rather that not happen.

“Wait, how about this?” He interjected himself into the conversation before he had fully worked out what he wanted to say, because the pressure was starting to overwhelm him.

Amelia and the faerie both looked at him. Amelia seemed surprised, and the faerie just seemed irritated.

“What if, err…” Nick wracked his brain hard. This whole date was supposed to be about improvising, well, now he was put on the spot and he had to start, fast!

“What if… she just doesn’t wear shoes?”

Amelia looked blankly at him. The faerie’s mouth dropped open.

“W-well, I mean, if she’s not wearing shoes then she won’t scuff up the floor, right?” He weakly pointed out. “She can just go barefoot.”

That sort of suggestion would never work in an actual bowling alley for any one of a thousand reasons, not the least of which getting a bowling ball dropped on your toes, but this was the Hotel Bowling Alley and the rules were different. There was no risk of getting injured here.

He just had to hope that the faerie would go for it, and that Amelia would consider it an acceptable compromise.

“Fine, whatever,” the faerie said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t really care anyway.”

“That is adequate,” Amelia agreed.

Nick was definitely surprised that his stepmother went along with that so easily. After all, if the rental shoes were unsanitary to her, then wouldn’t walking barefoot on the floor be even more unsanitary for her?

Evidently not, because Amelia took off her shoes and socks, allowing her pale feet to breathe. Meanwhile, Nick obediently followed the rules and changed into a pair of bowling shoes so the faerie wouldn’t think they were both being disruptive.

They chose one of the lanes and started things up.

“I see…” Amelia studied the screen carefully. “So you input your names and it tabulates your scores each round depending on how many pins you knock over. Very efficient.”

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Nick couldn’t help ask again. Amelia hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic about this idea when he’d first proposed it, and now she was barefoot.

“Of course,” Amelia said, looking up. “I understand that you’re self-conscious about trying new things, Nicholas, but it is not desirable to repeatedly ask your partner if they are enjoying themselves on your date.”

“Huh? It’s not?” Nick was surprised to hear that. “But aren’t you always telling me how important it is to be sensitive to the needs of my date?”

“Yes, that is important,” Amelia agreed, nodding. “But this is not a preferable way to do so. If your partner is enjoying themselves and you keep asking them if they’re okay with your ideas, it will make you seem doubtful and overly-suspicious, as though you lack confidence in your own idea. Which can lead to your partner then feeling self-conscious that they are enjoying themselves, and their opinion of the date- and you- can sour. Conversely, if they are not enjoying themselves, repeatedly asking how they’re feeling will make you seem crass and insensitive, because they will find themselves thinking ‘Obviously I’m not having fun- can’t he see that? Is he even paying attention to me at all?’ …And that is an even worse outcome.”

Nick was a little stunned. He didn’t expect such verbosity from his stepmother. It was a fine tightrope to walk where Amelia was concerned; either he couldn’t get her to say anything at all, or she said far too much and overwhelmed him.

It was a hard thing to balance.

“So… what should I do, then?” Nick asked. Maybe that seemed a little silly, asking his date a question like that, but with Amelia, wasn’t that the whole purpose of their relationship? For her to be someone he could go to for advice and support?

Amelia seemed to think so. Her expression softened and she almost smiled.

“It can be difficult to have confidence in yourself,” she said gently, walking over to him. “And I suppose I’m not making it any easier.”

Amelia knew that she had trouble expressing her emotions. Of course Nick would feel self-conscious about her thoughts on their date, since it was difficult to tell just by looking at her how she really felt most of the time.

“If you’re not sure how someone feels about what you’re doing, you don’t have to ask them if they are,” Amelia proposed. “Instead, ask them if they would like to do something else. That way, depending on their response, you can gauge whether or not your initial activity was a success.”

Nick nodded. “I guess that makes sense,” he admitted. If the other party agreed to do something else, then it probably meant they weren’t enjoying themselves. On the other hand, if they wanted to keep doing what they were doing, then they probably were having fun. It wasn’t the most subtle idea in the world, but it was better than asking “Are you okay with this?” a thousand times.

Amelia nodded. “Of course, we have not even started,” she pointed out.

Valid point.

“Yeah, I guess I jumped the gun a little there,” Nick admitted, scratching his cheek sheepishly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it… I know you’re not exactly a sporty person, Amelia, so I kept doubting myself about this.”

“I ski,” Amelia pointed out.

Yeah, and if Nick remembered that, he wouldn’t have proposed going bowling in the first place.

“Compared to skiing, this is hardly a sport,” Amelia sniffed. “You might as well consider golf a sport in that sense.”

Amelia may not have been Nick’s birth mother, but they were definitely family.

“So you don’t think golf is a sport either?” Nick asked. This was the first time he’d heard Amelia share that opinion.

She shook her head. “I suppose it meets the definition of a sport. It does require some amount of physical exertion, and it requires a certain degree of skill, and of course there is the element of competition. But the level of physical exertion is so limited, I can’t in good conscience acknowledge the label of sport.”

Amelia was a very complicated person, Nick knew. She was a stickler for rules and definitions, but only when she agreed with them. If she believed that a definition or rule was in error then she would staunchly argue against it.

A notable example had been on his report card in eleventh grade, when she argued for three solid hours with the principle about one of Nick’s grades in his American Literature class. One of the test questions had been to name two people who had been present at Jay Gatsby’s funeral in “The Great Gatsby” and Nick, unable to remember anyone other than, well, the character who shared his name, had said Gatsby himself.

Technically, that was a correct answer. And Amelia had agreed with him. His teacher? Not so much.

Long story short, there were still teachers at his high school ten years later that remembered his stepmother, and he was pretty sure she was banned from the campus after his graduation.

She did succeed in getting his grade changed, though.

“Bowling may not be a sport, but it does involve a certain degree of fine motor control,” Amelia explained, searching through the bowling balls for one that fit her hand properly and had the right weight for her to carry. “There is little chance of physical exertion, but it does require a degree of skill.”

She could understand the label, even if she didn’t personally agree with it.

“Sports necessitate significant physical exertion in my opinion,” she explained, finding the perfect bowling ball. It was a cold, icy blue. “There should be another term for activities that involve physical skill but lack the requisite amount of physical effort.”

“I can agree with that,” Nick said, nodding.

“Bowling is not in the Olympics,” Amelia pointed out. “Therefore, not a sport.”

Nick blinked.

“Uh… golf is in the Olympics, though,” he reminded her. “So doesn’t that mean it’s a sport, then?”

Amelia stared coldly at him.

“…Shall we play?” She asked, gesturing to him. He was the first one up, of course.

“Sure,” Nick said quickly, glad to change the subject. He just wanted to get started. Having never bowled before, he expected that he would do pretty terribly.

Nick grabbed his red ball, closed his eyes, and imagined scenes from TV shows and movies where he saw people bowl, and tried to mimic what they did.

He knocked over a whopping four pins.

Sighing, Nick took a step back.

“Wait.”

Amelia stood up to stop him. “You get two balls for each frame,” she reminded him, gesturing to the remaining pins. “It isn’t over yet.”

Nick’s eyes widened. He’d completely forgotten!

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said as his ball came back up the rack. “Thanks, Amelia.”

He picked up his ball again, and gave it another toss.

This time he knocked over… two pins.

Altogether more than half. That was something, right?

“Nice work,” Amelia applauded him. She actually sounded sincere. “But your form was sloppy. If you tighten your posture, you should be able to control the ball better.”

“R-really?” He asked.

She nodded and took her stance as the lane reset the pins. “This is an activity that requires dexterity and fine motor control. With the proper grip and balance, it should be possible to make the ball go exactly where you want it to.”

Nick nodded and sat down, watching Amelia take her shot.

The machine whirred, “GUTTER BALL!”

Nick’s jaw dropped. He looked at his stepmother. Her lips were pinched together tightly, the only emotion apparent on her face.

“Uh… Amelia?”

“…Clearly the ball is defective,” Amelia stated. Almost childish in her refusal to accept the obvious gutter ball she’d just thrown. “My form was exceptional.”