"Oh, hi, Mason-cup," she greeted him. "What are you doing standing up?"
"I need to have a word with you," Mason answered in his strong yet gentle British voice.
"Look, I said I was sorry a million times yesterday and this morning. Do I have to apologize for the million-first time?"
"You didn't even apologize a million times. You said sorry maybe seven times."
"You know, you're wasting time when you count."
"Madeline, I really like you. You're the first girl I ever courted for less than a week after meeting."
"I know. I'm awesome sauce, right?"
"What is awesome sauce? Are you referring to ketchup?"
"Just forget it."
"I like you but I can't pursue this whole thing any further."
"Why not?"
"Well, for starters, I think you're racist."
"Racist? We're white people. Plus, my friends are diverse."
"I know, I understand that. But you assume that I'm some royal prince because I live in a mansion with a minted family in England."
"I didn't assume you were a prince. I assumed you were rich... which is true. So can we kiss and make up?"
"No, we can't."
"Why we can't?"
"You can't be with me for my money."
"Mason, I'm not with you for your money. My parents got plenty of that. Besides, I only approached you because you were gorgeous."
"So you're with me for my looks?"
"No, no. I'm not explaining this correctly. Listen, when I got to know you, I thought you were thoughtful and sweet and smart. And you thought the same thing about me which I loved." She grasped Mason's hands. "The point is we're good together. We practically belong together and I want to make this work. Come on, let's give us chance, William. Harry! Mason." She smiled to look innocent.
But Mason pulled his hands away from her and squinted his eyes. "Goodbye, Madeline. And when I mean 'goodbye', I mean forever because this is my last day here so this is the last day I see you."
Mason walked away, leaving Madeline with a sad look on her face. She sighed and marched all the way to her table. She sat down with a pout.
"What's wrong, Madeline?" Lizzie asked.
"I'm not going to have my fairytale wedding," she answered.
Skye scoffed. "I could've told you that."
"You already told me that."
"Yeah, and I would tell you again."
"Are you going to be okay?" asked Debra.
"I think so," Madeline replied. "But even though my racist self thought that Mason was some prince looking for a princess, I really liked him. He's a good person."
"And so are you," said Andrea. "And you're not racist."
"Yeah," Lizzie agreed, "just look around. You got a black friend, a white friend, a friend from Mexico and Puerto Rico and another white friend."
"I'm half-German," noted Skye.
"Does that mean you're related to Hitler?"
Skye pursed her lips and looked into the air.
"Yeah, Madeline, you're not the racist friend," said Andrea.
"To be honest, I do sometimes think that I am possibly related to Hitler," Skye confessed.
"That would explain the crazy tree where your crazy apple came from."
Skye snickered.
Lizzie took a look at DeMarcus who was shaking, seemingly out of nervousness.
"What's wrong, DeMarcus?" she asked.
"You know, all this relationship talk has got me worked up," he responded. "It's tempting me to do something right now." He got out of the table and got down on one knee. He held her right hand and looked right into her eyes. "Lizzie something Duvall, will you go steady with me?"
Lizzie smiled and placed her left hand on her chest. "Oh, DeMarcus, yes!"
DeMarcus smiled, springing up and gave Lizzie a big hug. The girls clapped at the delightful "proposal". DeMarcus sat back down and held Lizzie's hand to kiss it.
"That's so sweet," commented Madeline. "No one asks like that anymore."
"What a Saved by the Bell moment," Skye remarked.
"Look at me," grinned Lizzie, putting her arm around DeMarcus' neck. "I'm DeMarcus' official girlfriend."
DeMarcus wrapped his arm around Lizzie's waist. "And I'm Lizzie's official boyfriend."
"Oh, as our first date as an official couple," Lizzie put her hands together, "can we eat cake by the ocean?"
"Why? Whose birthday is it?"
"No one's. We should just eat any kind of cake."
"Okay. But I'm confused: are we eating cake in front of the ocean or in the ocean?"
"I don't know. In front of the ocean?"
"What if the waves hit us and saltwater gets in our cake?"
"I think cake already has salt in it. More salt wouldn't make a difference."
"Wow, you two belong with each other," said Skye.
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