Title – Miss. Mouse
Jane McAdam was not beautiful by any means or any standards known to mankind.
I don't think she even breached 'decent' on the attractiveness scale. She was as plain as vanilla yogurt and as pasty white as ricotta cheese. If I narrowed my eyes enough, I could make out the probing veins under her pale skin. She had horrible composure to boot. The girl managed to hurt her self so much that it was rumored that she had her own bed in the nurse's office. The clothes she wore never matched, her nails were always coated with chipped neon green nail polish, and more often than not her clothes were covered in stains. Presumably the stains came from paint, I think I saw her once painting in the park. I didn't care enough to stick around and actual verify the sighting though. I would so not risk my sense of smell on her. The last time I stood too close to her was on lunch line, I swear she reeked of a bad combination of cottage cheese and sour milk. A couple of months ago, she had transferred into my high school and for the most part she remained invisible to students and teachers alike. She was always alone. Understandably so. Not even the chess dweebs or math brains wanted to risk further sliding down the social ladder by mingling with her. I couldn't blame them though.
Jane McAdam was the living definition of pathetic.
She was nothing more than a mere little mouse waiting to be squashed. Luckily for her, no one cared enough about her existence to bother sending her to exile. Actually I'd be surprised if anyone came forward to say she spoke more than a sentence or two. Personally, I had heard only heard her talk once. Her voice was to be expected for someone like her. It was - what could be best described as – a squeak. Typical. Whatever words she had spoken that day came out as a barely audible rodent-like squeak. Sad. Everything about her was as horrifying as I could imagine a sixteen-year-old girl could be.
Yet none of this mattered to him - Ian Stallings – it was obvious he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
His brooding gray orbs followed her every obscured awkward movement as she walked down the hallway to her locker. She did everything but fall on her face. Her two left feet stumbled over her untied shoelaces causing her to drop the massive amounts of books she was carrying all over the floor.
Like lightening, he was there to help her.
Like a knight in shining armor.
Except, I was supposed to be his princess.
"Ian...," At the sound of my voice from across the hallway, he began moving away from her and back towards me. He didn't look back. She didn't look up. It was painfully obvious. I didn't want to ask because I didn't want to know. Instead I smiled brightly and melted in his arms for a warm embrace. Unfortunately, it felt even colder than the last time I hugged him. I suppressed the emotions threatening to boil. "Since it's our first Valentine's Day together, I think we should go out and do something pretty special tonight."
"Actually I already went ahead promised the guys I would make the next rehearsal. Plus Ryan told me the next one is for tonight." Excuses. "I've missed like half a dozen rehearsals already. Any more and I think I might be kicked out, you know. It's important I show up." He sighed.
I wanted to believe he was being honest.
And then his eyes glanced back towards Miss. Mouse.
And so I threw out my ace.
"How much do you love me Ian?"
It was a loaded question.
"I love you as much as a fat kid loves cake."
It was an empty response.
Our foundation was cracking but I refused to let it break. Especially because of someone like her. A person like her wasn't allowed to disturb the delicate relationship I had worked so hard to achieve with Ian. She was nothing. Nothing compared to me, that is.
"Is that some weird way of giving me a compliment and an insult at the same time?" I laughed while playfully smacking him on the shoulder. "Okay, I can be patient. We can do something for Valentine's tomorrow night and you can go on to rehearsal tonight. But you so owe me big time for this."
Poking him, I smirked.
Not at him, but past him. At her.
Ian played with a strand of my auburn hair as he often did. It still felt familiar, though not as affectionate as it once could have been. "You're not angry with me, right?"
I shook my head and intertwined my fingers with his.
I wasn't angry, because while the cat is around, the mouse could never win.
Author Notes: Piece written for the Feb Prompt Challenge at Flash Me Suddenly.
Special Thanks to Betas: Jess Fitz, xXxBringTheBingxXx, and Lexodus.