Chapter nine!

For Spanderholic, who asked...here you go. Hopefully this will make up for the shortness of the last chapter.

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It's kind of weird, seeing Andy shaken up because of something other than stage fright.

I mean, sure I should be used to his being frightened in general, but...well, this is different. It's like he's scared--I can tell at least that by the pout on his lips--but otherwise there's nothing, just a calm exterior under which I know he must be at least sorta frightened.

It's also kinda weird how I can tell what he's feeling by what he's not saying rather than what he is.

I twist my mouth to the side a little, biting at the inside of my lip. Andy is not the docile little sheepling he should be, let me tell you that--well, he is, actually. But he attracts too much trouble. The cute sheep tend to do that.

My lip is bruised a little as I bite a bit harder; the thought of those guys back inside is freaking me out. Like, way big; they bring back bad, bad memories. I don't like bad memories, and I don't like guys who look like they (not only do they only wash once a month, but that they also) would rape a docile little sheepling like my own. I might have to throw down on them with my shepherding cane or something if they don't step off!

...

Darn.

Not only am I not ghetto, but I'm also somewhat of a sheepling myself. Just a rambunctious, small, physically fragile sheepling who liked to invent new words and have odd habits and weird thoughts and talk to himself. A normal sheepling--heck, even a good sheepling!

Dude. What in the world went wrong in my head when I was born?

"Look, Riley," Andy says, voice breaking into my thoughts. I turn my head; for once I'm not looking up to anyone, despite my shortness. He's just my height, which I find incredible. There aren't a lot of people my size, even though Val says that my legs are longer than Bailey's and I know my torso is long so shouldn't I be taller than him? But I'm not.

Uhm, concentrating on Andy now. Good idea. He's talking to me. Right. Okay.

"Are you sure you want to go?" He asks me, amber-gold eyes bright through stray strands of copper hair. Let me point out one more thing before I concentrate for real--he has the cutest, most perfect nose ever. Ever ever ever; it's straight, never been broken and just so adorable. Haha--okay, I'm done. Seriously. "We don't have to. I'm sure I can stick it out."

He's so cute with the way he thinks he needs to endure crap just because I want to be somewhere. Honestly, I could care less--by like, a long shot--where I was at the moment. As long as I was having fun, that is. Not fun stuff is generally un-fun--which isn't a word. So yay me, I can add that to my list of words that I've made up lately! It's a very growing list, because of certain people that need certain adjective that certainly don't exist to describe their certain selves. Like sheepling. And epicadorable (which is one word, so it goes on the list), and spectactabular (spectacular plus fantabulous, which I'm sure is another made up word, and...the end of spectacular.)...uh...shoot, what was I doing again?

I school my disorganized thoughts into a slightly composed sentence: "No, Andy. We're getting you out of here and that's that." And, in an attempt to lighten the mood somewhat, I add, "Besides, those guys creeped me out too."

I give him a smile and he smiles evenly, weakly back. I don't know how I do it; I manage to come off sounding composed and reassuring when I'm everything--anything--but on the inside. I don't think my mouth is attached to my brain--or at least the part that I use, that is. Otherwise I'd sound like I belonged in a straightjacket...which even I think I need, sometimes.

"Well..." Andy starts, trailing off, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, flicking his tongue out in thought. He seems like he's making himself smaller or something; his presence is certainly being disguised. Or at least attempted to be so.

"Well what?" My mouth works through my thoughts. "Honestly, Andy, I think we'd both feel better off not being here. Am I right?"

He shakes his head a fraction before he even thought about it, and then his mouth thinned and quirked upwards. "I guess you are...but Rossi and Val and Bailey won't be. I don't want to make them leave, either."

"Parties..." are fun! Can be wild and dangerous! The thing your parents (probably, if they didn't suck) warned you about! "aren't exactly Rossi's thing. Val can see her friends any day, and Bailey would rather be reading poetry in one of those weird artsy cafes somewhere. We're not taking them away from anything." I said we because in a split second, my vocal cords had decided that saying 'you' would implicate solely Andy and that would be mean and why is my mouth smarter than my head? How often does that happen? "Mmkay?"

"Oh...okay, if you're sure," Andy says, raising an eyebrow at me. "...does Bailey really like poetry cafes?"

"I would think so!" I say, shrugging, then forgetting to stop as my shoulders bobbed distractingly. I tossed my head sharply, trying to clear my vision of hair. I think I need a...a...oh God, I can't even say it--

HAIRCUT!

Ohdearlord.

"Is something wrong?"

I jerked myself from my terror-filled musings and turn my attention on Andy, whose pretty face is confused. "No," I hear myself say, though really everything (hair-related) is wrong. "Just thinking."

"Do you do that often," Andy replies, more as a murmured comment than a teasing question, lowered tilted head, smiling at me.

"I've been known to dabble in it occasionally," I retort, reaching out to elbow him gently. I feel like I might break him...but he looks more solid than I think I do, for some reason.

Well, maybe that's because I'm on the verge of wearing girls' clothes. I mean really, stars on boys are generally not very masculine. But then again, neither am I sometimes...I mean, I wear nail polish and girls' headbands and eyeliner for God's sake!

But I'm manly when I want to be.

Really.

...I promise.

Okay, I'm not manly! I run around squealing and yelping and yipping like a neutered chihuahua (except oh God would that hurt) and thinking boys are cute and also thinking girls are cute and having problems with my identity and feeling younger than I am and AGH! I want to shoot myself!

In the face!

"But yeah, we should find Rossi first. I'm under the impression that he can gather us all together at will, and plus Bailey and Val are more likely to listen to him than me." Again, my mouth is rational! God bless my mouth for having such skill!

Andy sighs, biting at his lip again, as if thinking it over. Like he was going to stall for time or try to convince me not to make us leave or something. Well, I will not have any of that, no sir! Not me!

So, to establish my not-having-any-of-it-ness, I interrupt his thought process with, "And no, you're not convincing me otherwise. Andy, it's fine. I was probably going to leave soon anyway."

Ooh, where did that come from? Deep within the recesses of my rational mind, I'll bet you!

Hmm, I haven't heard from that part of my head in forever...where is my darn postcard? Where is it when I need it?

"Mhmm? What for?" He asks, his elbow brushing mine as my arm swings. If I hadn't been wearing long sleeves my arm would have been on fire.

Shoot. Do I have an answer for that one? For once I have to wrack my own brain for an answer instead of letting myself go on autopilot. I should really be more organized with my thoughts... "Uhm...well, I wanted to have, like, a team meeting anyway. You know, like, since you've never played, just to, like, prep you. You know?"

One of his eyes narrows just a bit. "..You just sounded like a teenage girl."

I laugh and he laughs and I say, "Shut up! I'm allowed to, thank you very much. I'm still close to being a teenager."

"Riley, you're twenty-four."

"And a half!" I add, before remembering that was the exact opposite of my point, and I giggled. Oh, jeez, I shouldn't giggle, I really shouldn't. I sound such the girl.

"Exactly my point," Andy says, grinning widely. "Team meeting, huh?"

"Yeah!" I say, because it's actually sorta plausible. I was never the best liar; but I certainly wasn't the worst, either. "Just cause. Know what I'm saying?"

I flash Andy the peace sign, attempting to be somewhat gangster, but I'm a pale emo kid in a starry shirt and skinny jeans and it doesn't work out that well. He just laughs at me. "You're so not gangster."

"Nyah," I tell him, sticking my tongue out and reverting back to my normal preppy/scene/flamboyant emo kid self. Even though I wasn't really emo..apparently I was a mockery to emos everywhere, and I just looked like a very convincing one until I opened my mouth. I could never be a true emo, my thoughts are too fun and sunshiney and rainbows!

Jeez, am I really twenty-four and a half? I sound like a fourteen-year-old, even in my head.

I neeeeeed a straightjacket. Like, badly. Ridiculously badly.

I am ridiculously bad.

"So...where would we find Rossi?" Andy asks, bringing us back on topic. I shrug.

"Chilling with his--ah--" I remember suddenly that no, I am not gangster, and change what I was going to say. "--friends, most likely."

"And where would they be?"

'In the hood?' I wince at my own wannabe gangster mannerisms, the first thing that came to mind, and wonder where I picked all this up. Probably from Val--she has new slang practically every day. "Probably near the bonfire...He likes fire. Ah," I add twitchily when Andy's eyes widen and his expression turns somewhat startled, "not like that, he's not like a crazy or anything. He just likes the way it looks. Have you...you ever seen him do that?"

"What?" Andy says, but it's very thoughtful. His eyes glaze a little, like he's thinking back on something. He probably is. "Watch the fire?...Yeah, I have."

"Well, then you know. It's not weird or anything, just like...well, weird. But not in a bad way. Well, it could be in a bad way.." I catch myself rambling, just as Andy shakes his head and asks, "What?"

"Nothing," I say, glad he wasn't paying attention. "Let's just go scope out the bonfire and if he's not there, we'll call him."

And frowns. "Why don't we just do that in the first place?"

"I like face-to-face meetings better," I say, and then frown too when I remember that's only in certain situations. Definitely only in certain situations. "Only sometimes, though," I clarify, for my benefit as well as Andy's own. "And Rossi doesn't like being called when he's talking to people, for some reason."

Andy just laughs, confusing me thoroughly, and the length of his arm presses against my own as he points and says, "It's that way, then," and pushes me to turn in that direction. My face is bright pink, I can tell.

Ugh.

I don't know why, honestly, I really don't. I don't know why his touch makes me blush like an idiot.

I think it's just the heat...he's warm. Really warm.

Yeah.

Just the heat.

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Longer chapter! Yay!

And double yay for Riley's point of view =) I hope you all liked it, because if you did it might come up more often.

Reviews are like California to happy cows.