Dear George Clooney: Please Marry My Mom by Susin Nielsen Page A

night. I hope you don’t mind,” she said. The Wiener shifted nervously from foot to foot beside her, clutching a bag of take-out food from Zipang.
    “It’s not called Movie Night. It’s called
Girls’
Night,” I said.
    “Maybe I should just go –” Dudley began.
    “No, stay!” shouted Rosie as she ran in from the kitchen with what looked like chocolate ice cream smeared all over her face. “I want you to stay. So does Mom.” She looked at me hopefully. “So does Violet. Right, Violet?”
    I just rolled my eyes.
    “I brought you girls a box of Purdy’s Chocolates,” he said, holding it out to us. “Vanilla creams and caramels.” Purdy’s vanilla creams were my favorite. Purdy’s caramels were Rosie’s favorite. Obviously Mom had fed him this piece of intel. It was a blatant and pathetic attempt to win us over, and I refused to reach for the box. Not that it mattered since Rosie grabbed it out of his hands faster than you could say
pushover.
    “You can sit beside me for the movie,” Rosie said to him.
    “Speaking of movies,” Dudley said as we went intothe living room with the food, “did you see the one about the cannibal who ate his mother-in-law? It was called
Gladiator.
Get it? Glad I ate her?”
    Mom laughed. I gazed at him stonily. “Let me guess. Another yard-sale find?” I asked him, pointing at his hideous sweater. This one featured a mallard on the front.
    “No. Someone made it for me. I like this sweater.” He actually sounded hurt.
    “It’s a lovely sweater,” Mom said, patting his arm. Then she turned to me. “I saw your math test on the hall table. You got a
C
.”
    I shrugged. “It was geometry. I hate geometry.”
    “Now, Violet,” Dudley said, “without geometry, there’d be no point.” He laughed at his own feeble pun. I did not. “Sorry, I forgot. You don’t like puns. But that’s okay. A good pun is its own
reword.
”
    It was going to be a long night.
    Mom had rented
The Fantastic Mr. Fox
. Mr. Fox was voiced by George Clooney, which I knew Phoebe would find interesting from a psychological perspective.
    “Mom met George Clooney once,” I announced, when we heard his distinct voice for the first time.
    “Really? You met George Clooney?” asked Dudley, clearly impressed.
    “I met a lot of actors when I worked in production,” my mom said. “But George was by far the sweetest. And the hottest.”
    “He said he hoped their paths would cross again,” I added.
    “George Clooney has good taste,” Dudley replied, then he actually gave my mom a kiss on the lips, right in front of us. I had to force myself not to gag. “Actually, I get told quite often that I could be his twin,” he joked, sticking out his nonexistent chin and giving us a cheesy smile. Mom laughed too hard, and Rosie laughed too, even though she had no idea what was funny.
    “In your dreams,” I said under my breath.
    Throughout the movie, Dudley sat on the red couch, with my mom on one side and Rosie on the other. I sat as far away from them as possible on the gold couch, even though I could barely see the TV screen. It was a good movie, but I couldn’t concentrate because, out of the corner of my eye, I could see both my mom
and
my sister leaning in to Dudley. He held my mom’s hand throughout practically the whole film, like a lovesick teenager. Honestly, it was all very
ick
.
    After the movie Mom brought out Pictionary, but I didn’t want to play. I felt sick. Mom said it was the eight vanilla creams I’d eaten. I knew better.
    So I went upstairs while the three of them played the game. I read one of the Cherub books, envying Jamesand his sister Lauren, who were not only kid spies, but orphans too. After a while, Mom brought Rosie up to bed. I helped get her into a pair of pull-ups, and she fell asleep almost instantly. I got into my pajamas and lay awake for as long as I could, waiting to hear Dudley leave. I thought I heard the door open and shut around midnight, just before I