“Control: Mastermind”

R.M. Sanders

Summary: (WIP, mxm, companion to Karma: Affirmation) control: n. the situation of being under the regulation, domination, or command of another. Syn: manipulate. Syn: Lotem Hebron.

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Chapter One: I Am The Mastermind.

The truest statement that I ever heard was “you can’t control your feelings…”

My friend Michelle told me that when we were discussing her “problem” of having two girlfriends at one time.

But I didn’t know how true it would become…

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I walked into the counselor’s office, curious, cautious. The maroon carpet (even more school spirit!) was soft under my Converse-clad feet, the wood paneled walls a shock to my eyes. It was warm, but not too warm. Comfortable, but no too comfortable.

Mrs. Lobert, the counselor for students with last names P-Z, poked her head out the door, grinning from ear to ear. “You must be the new guidance aide!”

She was too perky for her own good.

“Yeah, my name is Fleur.”

She flipped her blonde hair out of her face and waddled over to me, “That’s a pretty name. I’m Mrs. Lobert, if you didn’t know. But,” she giggled, “you’d have to know a little bit about us up here to be placed as an aide. So I guess the old guidance counselor trusted you?”

“I…,” I sputtered. Truth be told, I didn’t know anything about the old guidance counselor. The old bitty helped me put my schedule together so that I wouldn’t have very difficult classes in my senior year. She saw me once or twice a year, had to look at the piece-of-shit computer she was equipped with to read my name (and then she pronounced it “flee-wer”), did what she had to do, then sent me on my way. Which I didn’t mind, of course. She smelled like cigarettes and coffee.

Not a pleasant concoction.

“Well, that’s okie-dokie, Mrs. Levelle must’ve trusted you…,” Lobert giggled again. I sensed that she was a past cheerleader at the most. At the least: a perky girl on the outside of the “crowd” in high school, desperately trying to get in. Maybe she had braces and wore her hair in those god-awful sideways ponytails that were making a comeback (much to my displeasure). Maybe she tried to wear the short skirts and leggings, but couldn’t get her fat ass in them. Maybe she starved herself for weeks at a time to squeeze in them, only to have the “crowd” mercilessly torture her.

Maybe she begged for the torture by doing these things.

“So you’ll fit in fine right here!” Lobert’s voice brought me out of my stupor, and I just blinked at her. Obviously, she had been talking the entire time I was spaced out. Thankfully, she didn’t notice that I wasn’t paying a lick of attention to her.

I nodded and moved to set my books down on the long table that occupied the “waiting room.” I looked back to see if she was going to go off on another of her tangents, but she had her back turned to me and was heading back into her office. So I sighed and flopped down into the comfortable rolling-chair (the only one! Score!).

The “you’re fucking late for third block, bitch!” bell rang in the background and I heaved a sigh. This class would either be the most boring days of my life, or I could get lucky and…

WOW.

“Is this the room I’m supposed to go to for, uh,” he checked his schedule and let me have a good look at him. Upon first glance, I was taken aback at his bright green eyes. They were ringed in black eyeliner and set against olive velvet. But now that I looked at him (as fleeting as it was), I noticed the brown-and-black hair, the soft voice and lips… “Guidance aide?”

“This is the room,” I tried to smile disarmingly.

He nodded, plopping down his messenger bag next to the blue plastic chair that was in front of me. RENT. Interesting.

“Oh, there’re two of you now?” That was Mrs. Lobert. She toddled over to the copy machine, grinning her head off. The other guy looked at me, shrugging.

“I guess so,” I spoke, watching her sway to the rhythm of the copier. It was a large, bulky thing that I was sure I wouldn’t like to use. But I guess it served its purpose.

“What’s your name, baby?”

The kid across from me (the one with the astounding eyes, if you weren’t paying attention) looked up and at me, eyebrows arched. I nodded to him: yes she’s talking to you.

“I’m Lotem Hebron,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. He had the voice that you’d expect an excellent singer would have. Like Josh Groban or Pavarotti. Silently, I bet with myself that he was in the chorus.

“Well, Lotem, I’m Mrs. Lobert and I’ll be the counselor you’re aiding,” she blinked at him, her grin still in place. “Mrs. Anabolen is the other counselor that I share the room with, but she’s not here today.”

Lotem and I nodded as she walked over to stand in front of us. “The first thing you two can do is go get our mail. The mailboxes are downstairs in the main office, and the box is under the name, if that makes any sense. We might have a few envelopes for you to put in the little, cute wire basket on Mrs. Bishop’s desk,” she handed us each a stack of the papers she had been copying. “Those’re going to go in each teacher’s mailbox. Like I said, the little box is under the names. But it really doesn’t matter because everyone gets one!” Mrs. Lobert giggled as I stood, taking the stack. Lotem took the other one and stood as well.

I took note that he was only about an inch taller than I was.

“So scuttle your cute patties down to the office, pick up mine and Mrs. Anabolen’s mails, and scuttle back up here, sweeties! Tata!” Mrs. Lobert disappeared into her sauna-like office and I was left staring at Lotem.

I had never seen him before. I had seen almost every single student in the school at least once before, but… never Lotem. Never before had I laid eyes upon his dark hair, his incredibly piercing eyes…

“Well, shall we?” He was motioning to the door as I realized that I had just been oogling him.

I just nodded.

The walk downstairs (not to mention the extra-long hallway and the echoing stairwell) was awkward. Neither of us said anything. We just walked in silence. But it wasn’t one of those silences that was comfortable, like when you’re walking down a deserted road at three in the morning with your best friend.

No.

This was the most fucking awkward silence I had ever witnessed.

We turned the corner to go to the office, but I was attacked by a mass of long brown hair.

“Fleur!” Michelle screamed, too close to my ear. She relinquished her vice-like grip on me, and grinned. “I didn’t expect to see you down here, cupcake.”

She called everyone “cupcake.” Or “darling.” Or “sunshine.” Or “baby doll.”

“I gotta go get Mrs. Lobert’s mail,” I smiled to her, taking Lotem’s self-conscious stance into consideration. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so I sped up our conversation. “B’yeah, we’ve got to hurry, so I’ll see you at lunch, babe.”

I only called Michelle “babe.” “Hag” on occasion.

I saw her eyes dart to Lotem, then she glanced at me, raising her eyebrow, her grin widening. “’Kay, dollface, I’ll see you then.”

She blew a kiss, then flounced off, all gardenia-perfume and black jeans.

“She seems nice,” Lotem’s eyes were glued to her backside. It pissed me off. She was my best friend! And you do not rape my best friend with your eyes! Man or not!

Besides, she already had a girlfriend. Or two.

“Michelle’s a regular Madonna,” smirking, I sidled in the direction of the main office. Lotem followed, his almost-lime eyes returning to the floor in front of him. “She’s sweet.”

I held open the heavy glass door for him as we entered the office, the pungent, sickly smell of “clean” hitting me in the face.

Someone sure did their janitorial job well.

But, sarcasm aside… He walked over to the cubbyholes that lined the wall, immediately placing papers in each box. Wow, he was quick. I joined him, of course, and we remained silent the entire time.

The silence between us slowly (ever so slowly) became less awkward as we kept stealing glances of each other… weighing each other. Judging. Calculating.

I could see it behind his green eyes.

“Well, that’s it,” I murmured, turning to him and trying to smile sweetly. He returned the smile, holding open the door for me as we left. First lunch was filing in and I passed many of the kids who considered themselves my “friend.” We waved, but that’s as far as the contact went.

And, of course, Lotem and I walked in silence…

Until we got to the stairwell.

“So, what classes are you taking?”

I watched my Converse appear and disappear under me, making a loud “thoomph” noise that echoed off the surrounding walls. Lotem didn’t watch his feet, like I had to. I was horrible with balancing myself. I had no hand/eye coordination. I was a walking accident.

“I’m taking AP English, French IV, and AP Art,” I replied, still watching the blue Cons swim in and out of my vision. Each of my feet were placed over-lapping each other. A strut. To make my hips look more narrow.

“Wow, those’re some tough courses,” Lotem smiled to me, his black bangs falling into his eyes.

I let out a breathy laugh, “And then I have Guidance Aide, which is… super easy. What about you?”

“Uhhh, AP Calc, AP Physics, Guidance Aide, and ‘Out of School Environment.’” he let a smile tug at the rose-pink ends of his lips. “Which is great, since I can leave here as soon as I can get my ass out the door.”

“Back up a minute and let me shout a ‘holy shit!’” I laughed again, “You’re taking AP Calc and Physics? Those would have me six feet under in no time!”

Lotem shrugged, “They come easy to me, I guess. You’re lucky for being so good at French. I struggled through the two years I had it. And art; wow! I can’t even draw a good-looking stick figure.”

We reached the top of the stairs as I grinned, “It’s not that hard.”

“No, really,” he emphasized. “I don’t have an art bone in my body at all, but gimme a Calc problem or something to do with math and science, and I’ll give you the right answer. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

I scoffed, “It can’t be that big of a curse. I scraped through Algebra II, and that’s just because I had to for college.”

“If you ever need tutoring, I’ll gladly help.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I finished up Algebra last semester, thank the gods.”

“Oh,” his eyes skipped down to the floor, his tone… sad? Was that it? Oh, hell, I wasn’t good at reading people. That was Michelle’s job.

“Did you have any interesting classes last semester, Lotem?” I glanced sideways at him as we plodded down the long hallway. We had about a hundred yards to go, so I figured that I’d ask him a few more questions.

Walking in silence was awkward.

“Uhhh, nothing out of the ordinary. Civics, of course. Show Choir. AP English. And lockout again,” he studied me when he thought that I wasn’t looking. Gauging a response. Looking for humour, disgust. Something.

Inwardly, I gave myself a pat on the back. I may not have been good at reading people, but I could tell from their voices what they were like. If they were gay, straight, bisexual, or just really didn’t care. I could tell if they sang or created other works of art, if they were total math nerds, science whizzes, band geeks (I say that lovingly).

While others were handwriting analyzers, I could’ve made a living analyzing one’s voice.

“That’s cool. I don’t have a way home, so I can’t have lockout,” I mock-pouted. “Part of me thinks that I’m missing out on something cliché about high school, since I don’t. But, eh.” I shrugged as we passed the halfway point in the hallway.

Again, I patted myself on the back for being able to carry on a conversation this long with Lotem, no matter how boring the subject matter.

“You’re not really missing anything,” Lotem promised. “You just get home ninety minutes before everyone else and have to wait for everyone to get home from school so you can hang out. It’s actually really boring because I don’t have anyone to share it with.”

“Poor baby,” I chuckled, looking at him again. He laughed, too, which was a good sign. “It must be heart-wrenching to be home before everyone else. To enjoy having an extra hour and a half to yourself to think or… sing?”

“It’s horrible,” Lotem answered, only slightly sarcastic. “Singing to the RENT soundtrack, or the Wicked soundtrack, or the Cats soundtrack at the top of my lungs, without an audience… it’s just fucking unbearable.” He placed the back of his palm to his forehead and stumbled over-dramatically.
Laughter welled up inside my chest and I just… burst. My laughing (which Michelle lovingly said sounded like a hyena) bounced off the walls and floor and ceiling (which they had to rip out because of asbestos, which could inevitably kill us all). Mrs. Stafford slammed her door. Mr. Bostick, who was walking down the opposite side of the hallway, looked at me like I was a douchebag.

Lotem just bowed his head, blushing and grinning like a madman.

We walked into the room, me still giggling, Lotem still blushing. I flopped into the rolling-chair, trying to muffle my laughter in my hoodie sleeves. The office was quit, and I didn’t want to disturb the silence.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are fucking hilarious?” I asked, still smiling so much that my cheekbones hurt.

“Maybe a couple of times,” Lotem admitted, his face still tickle-me-pink.

I smiled to him, content in thinking that every day was going to be like this. Just Lotem and I sitting here, getting to know each other.

It was a nice thought…

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AN: This is a companion novel to Karma: Affirmation. :D Fleur and Michelle's lives are pretty much the same, with them being best friends and all. A lot of the chapters will have the same scenarios, but with different internal dialogue (with the two narrators being different, bien sur).

I'm sure a new entry will be in my livejournal about the two stories, so look for that. I'm not picky about who I add. (:

I don't own the lyrics to Mindless Self Indulgence's "Mastermind." Obviously.

Happy Fortieth Story To Me!! E-cookies for everyone! :'3