FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Yep. Here we go.
I tugged my backpack just a little higher on my shoulders, squinting against the sunlight into the front courtyard. I still couldn’t believe my assignment for this weekend: spend Saturday and Sunday with your new partners. Sleepovers required. I sighed, spotting Lianthe and Max underneath a tree, and made my way over.
It was that last part that really made me self-conscious; not only would I be spending the night with a jock, but a girl as well? This was going to be weirder than weird.
Lianthe nudged Max when she saw me, grinning widely and waving. She didn’t seem at all bothered by how bright the light was, whereas Max looked like he’d like to crawl underground and stay there. I agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment as I dropped my backpack, collapsing into the grass.
“So, how are we gonna do this?” Lianthe was the one to start the conversation, looking expectantly from me to Max. He grunted and shrugged, leaning back against the base of the tree.
“Uhm..” I began when Lianthe transferred her gaze solely to me, flushing a little. It wasn’t my fault–I was a nerd. That meant you didn’t talk to girls, and if you did it was one of the most painful experiences of your social life. “I..don’t know?”
Lianthe exhaled, not seeming surprised. “Well, I personally have an idea for Saturday, but the sleepover thing is going to be harder to manage. Sunday we’ll just do whatever.”
“What was your idea for Saturday?” Max asked nonchalantly, not sounding interested in the least. Lianthe grinned.
“You guys are going to get makeovers,” she said mischievously, and Max nodded.
“That’s all?” he said, closing his eyes. I stared incredulously for a moment, my expression mirroring Lianthe’s. And then Max’s eyes popped open and he flew back upright.
“What?” Max yelped, his tone scandalized. “Oh, hell no. I don’t care if I fail this project, there’s no way I’m going to go through with that!”
“I’m not getting one either,” I protested weakly, much less conviction behind my words than Max had. I had the feeling that whatever Lianthe wanted to do she was going to do, our opinions be damned.
“You are,” she said, pointing at Max with a finger that he looked ready to bit off, “and so are you.” Okay, then, fine with me. I could only stare as my resolve flew out a window.
“What for?” demanded Max. Lianthe tapped her chin, considering this for a moment.
“Because I’m not going anywhere with you two until you look halfway decent,” she reasoned finally. Insult flashed across Max’s face.
“I do so look decent!” He hissed, narrowing his eyes at Lianthe.
“I don’t care,” I murmured softly, looking down. She could probably beat me up if she wanted to, I thought, so there was no way I was going to argue. And from the looks of it, fighting would be pointless anyway.
“You look like you haven’t been out of the pool for a day at a time,” Lianthe accused, narrowing her eyes right back. “And, Zander, you just don’t look good. No offense,” she added apologetically, wincing.
“Zander?” I ask, discarding the whole makeover thing in my mental pile of ‘shit to worry about tomorrow’, a pile that was growing at an alarming rate. “When did I get a nickname?”
“Just now,” Lianthe said, grinning. “It suits you.”
“Oh, how cute,” Max huffed, rolling his eyes and leaning back again. Lianthe grinned again, and this time there was a little bit of deviousness behind it.
“Don’t be jealous, Maxine,” she cooed, and Max glared. “I’ve got a million and one different names for you, too.”
“Oh, get a life,” he retorted, crossing his arms. I looked from him to her, hoping that it wouldn’t end in a fight. Like, a physical fight. I’m so weak that I’d probably get knocked out by accident. And people wonder why I’m a nerd.
“Yeah, I’ve heard you can get those at Wal-Mart pretty cheap,” Lianthe says, leaving the end of her sentence open. When Max gives her an expectant look, she smirks and continues. “Must be where you got yours. Probably on sale for a dollar fifty, am I right?”
So that was the infamous Constantine wit, I mused as I bit my knuckle to keep from laughing outright. Max actually looked amused instead of infuriated, which was probably a good sign.
“You’d know, you got yours the day after,” he returned.
Lianthe laughed and, after a beat, Max did too. All traces of tension dissipated and I smiled, allowing myself a private chuckle.
“Okay, Lianthe, you win,” Max said, shaking his head. “I’ll get the stupid makeover. But I don’t know how we’ll work out the..sleepover.”
“Simple,” Lianthe said, shrugging. “Whoever has the biggest house hosts the slumber party. That’s always the rule.”
“That’s not me, then,” I said, looking to Max. My house was good-sized, to be sure, but everyone knew that Max’s house was probably the biggest out of any of the kids at North Fountain. He didn’t brag outright about it, but anyone who had half a brain knew how big it was.
“Fine, fine. My house, then,” Max said, holding up his hands in surrender, and Lianthe laughs.
“Alright, then, so that’s one thing out of the way. Now the question is when we’re going to meet tomorrow.” She stretched, falling back to stare up at the sky. I looked down at her for a second, marveling at how comfortable she seemed to be with two people she’d never met, while I, essentially, was still out of the loop.
“Well, I could pick you guys up and drive you to–where are we going, again?” Max broke off, looking quizzically at Lianthe. She gestures expressively and meaninglessly, coming close to hitting me several times.
“The mall, Maxy,” she said like it was obvious, and Max winces at the nickname. “So pick me up first, ‘cause I live closer, and then we’ll get Zander from his house.”
“What time?” I ask, feeling out of place as I fidget. Lianthe looks up at me, pursing her lips in thought.
“Nine o’clock,” she said, and my eyes widen. How the hell does anyone get up that early? I couldn’t dream of waking up before eleven on a weekend, and even that was stretching it.
Max, however, didn’t seem as disturbed by this prospect and merely shrugs, getting up. “Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says, and turns to traipse casually across the courtyard to his car. Lianthe follows suit, extending her hand to me, and I take it to avoid feeling stupid. She pulls me up like I weigh nothing, spinning me playfully in a way that makes me feel dizzy before releasing me.
“Alright, Maximillian,” she calls after him, even though I had a hunch that she knew perfectly well his full name was Maxwell. “Don’t be late!”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say uncomfortably, taking a step in the direction of my car and sanity, sweet sanity, but Lianthe grabs my wrist to stop me. I jump a little bit and she gives me a quizzical look, but brushes it off as a ‘nerd habit’ and holds out her hand.
“Give me your phone,” she directed, tilting her head. I ‘oh’ and shove my hand into my pocket, pulling out my cell. She takes it, flipping it open and punching several buttons at random. I watch until she’s done, and when she gives it back there’s a foreboding smirk on her face.
“I put my number in there,” she said by way of explanation, although I get the feeling that she did something else as well. “So I’ll call you to make sure you’re up by the time Max comes to get me, because I don’t live that far from you. Make sense?”
“Yes,” I mumble, pushing my phone back into my pocket. Lianthe’s eyes stray to my worn, comfortable jeans and I start to get increasingly uncomfortably under the scrutiny, but her eyes snap back to my face and she’s grinning in a way that can’t be good. At all.
“Just wear whatever, okay Zander?” I blink. What? “Makeover means makeover; all out. I’m paying, so don’t bother trying to talk me out of it because you’re going to look like a whole new person when I’m done.” She grins even wider.
“Uh..” I say as a lame excuse, but she blocks me out by pulling me into a quick, barely-there one-armed hug that makes me blush.
“See you, Zan!” She calls, taking off for her car. “Make sure you get some sleep!”
“But I don’t want to be a whole new person,” I whine petulantly, even though there’s nobody there to hear me. And I guess that’s a good thing, because nobody will be accusing me of being crazy as well. I probably will be, though, before this project is over and done.
I sigh and go to my truck–a huge, black Ford F-150 that doesn’t suit me at all–tossing my backpack inside. Fishing my keys from my pocket, I start up the engine and pull out of the parking lot. By now Lianthe is long gone, her driving probably as fast as her talking and just as erratic. I’m surprised the girl hasn’t died yet from half the crazy things she does.
I’m halfway down Ewell Road nearly ten minutes later, only a few blocks from my house, when my phone blares some obscure Fall Out Boy song and vibrates along to the beat, shocking me so badly that I scream and the truck swerves into the other lane before I can control myself.
“Jesus–Christ–” I pant, jerking the screaming device from my pocket, staring at the little screen. It was a text, not a call, and it was from Max. I didn’t even know I had his number, much less that he had mine, but he was so lucky there was practically nobody on the streets right now.
I flick the phone open with my thumb and the vibrating and the music stops, leaving the interior of my truck oddly silent as I scan the one line.
We’re so screwed, the text says in little black letters, and I laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because he’s dead on.
When I finish reading the text I punch in a quick reply–really, you think?–and put the stupid thing on medium volume so I don’t kill myself on accident if he sends something back. But he doesn’t thankfully, and I make it into my garage without dying.
I breeze into the house, greeting my mom and my brothers fleetingly before I jogged up the steps. I didn’t want to hear anything about how my day went, what was new, how was so-and-so. Right now I just wanted to sleep, starting early because I knew I’d be getting up only...sixteen hours from now, I estimated, glancing at the clock. And yes, I did need those extra sixteen hours because I’d stayed up way too late last night to finish homework and I needed to catch up.
I shed my clothes, leaving my boxers on, and slipped into bed just as a sudden wave of exhaustion caught me. Whatever vestiges of energy I had were washed away as I sunk into the mattress and fell asleep.
--
One of my friends actually does sleep that much. He can go to bed at seven in the afternoon and not wake up til five the next day. I, on the other hand, am one of those crazy people who can go to bed at three in the morning and get up, totally refreshed, at six. It’s kind of irritating because then I have so much extra time on my hands, but that means more stories for you guys.
