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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 10:39:37 GMT -5
Okay, before I start the story, I'm going to write something that you should probably read before reading the story. That's why I'm posting it here.
First of all, I'm writing two stories at once. If you find that I'm not updating one of the stories, then I've probably had some stroke of inspiration for the other one and I'm busy updating it. Just be patient with me please.
Second of all, you're going to have to use your imaginations with this one. Imagine that Tre was the original drummer for Sweet Children. Imagine that the guys all went to school at the same place, and that they were all in a band together when they were 14 or 15. Don't comment to annoy me with technicalities. I know about them, but I chose to ignore them for this story. Thank you, and enjoy.
~Dori
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 10:40:11 GMT -5
Part One
“Hi.” The first day of school has to be my least favorite day of the year. I can’t think of any day I have such a passionate hatred toward. Especially this year. The past two years I had spent at Headerton High School hadn’t been so bad. In fact, I was kind of on top of the world. Well, the school at least. I wasn’t your stereotypical popular girl, either. I wasn’t tall or skinny. I wasn’t blonde, and I wasn’t a cheerleader. I didn’t get good grades, and yet lots of guys were attracted to me and lots of girls wanted to be my friend. I took pride in the fact that I was one of the only “popular” girls who was 5’2”, weighed 147 lbs., had purple hair and sported a lip ring. But now it was different. One of the most looked forward to events in my school, besides prom and graduation parties, was recruit week. In my school, it was considered socially unacceptable to associate with freshman unless you were one. The sophomores, juniors and seniors, however, were free to intermingle. So when the freshman were about to become sophomores, recruit week would be held. The soon-to-be sophomores would hang out with the cliques they someday wanted to be a part of. The different cliques would run all sorts of tests for these freshman to decide who would be in and who wouldn’t. The tests usually included at least two parties per clique. My friend Ally played host to one of the parties for our clique. At the party, I met this really cute senior who attended a private school. He was there because his sister wanted to be recruited, and their parents wouldn’t let her come without his supervision. He and I talked for a while, downed a few shots, and it didn’t take long before we were both wasted. He and I started making out, then made our way to the guest bedroom, where we ended up screwing. Much to my dismay, several of my friends were standing outside the window, watching this occur. As soon as the party ended, they deemed me a whore and left me alone and friendless. It wasn’t long before everyone in school knew about it. I was suddenly uncool to talk to, even uncooler to be friends with. So there I was, alone. It was the first day of school and I sat by myself in a corner by the dumpster, poking at what was supposed to be school spaghetti, wondering to myself why I wasn’t off at some restaurant, enjoying the fact that juniors were allowed to have lunch off campus. That was when some random guy sat down across the table and greeted me. “Hello?” I said, arching an eyebrow and stabbing at my cold pasta. At least I thought it was pasta. You can never be too sure with school food. “My name’s Mike,” he said, reaching his arm across the table and extending a hand. He seemed nice enough. He was kind of scrawny, with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. He wore a baseball hat and a wifebeater with a pair of kind of baggy jeans. He looked like most of the kids at my school, nothing really special. “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand and nodding. “I’m Charlie.” “Charlie? Is that short for something?” He seemed kind of confused. “Yeah. My name’s really Charlotte,” I said, shrugging. “But my friends call me Charlie.” Like I had any friends. Hell, if I had friends, I wouldn’t care if they called me Charlie or “Hey, bitch.” I would’ve been fine with either. “So, why are you sitting with me?” I asked. “You looked kind of lonely, and I don’t have anywhere else to sit,” he said. “So here seemed like a good place to sit.” “I’m not lonely,” I lied. “If you want me to leave, I will,” he sighed, starting to stand up. “You can stay,” I said. He smiled and sat back down. “How old are you anyway?” “15. A sophomore.” He smiled at me. Younger than me. I felt almost shameful that the only guy who would talk to me these days was younger than me. “Oh,” I said. “Don’t you have any friends?” “Yeah, two of them, actually. But they have a different lunch schedule.” I nodded. “Same here,” I lied. “My friends all have a different lunch.” “I figured,” he shrugged. “Hey, what are you doing Friday night?” “If you’re asking me on a date, I’m busy,” I mumbled. “I’m not,” he laughed. “Okay, then I’m free. Why do you ask?” “Because,” he said. “My band’s doing a show and I’m trying to get people to go.” “You have a band?” I asked, not really believing him. “Yeah,” he said. “Me, and those two friends of mine. Billie and Tre.” “Name the time and place. I’ll try to be there,” I said. He smiled, then pulled out a flyer, sliding it across the table to me. “Sounds good,” I murmured as I examined the paper. “So I’ll see you there?” he asked. “I’ll try,” I said, not sure if I really would or not.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 10:41:22 GMT -5
Part Two
I looked from the paper to the beat up building in front of me. “Okay,” I whispered. “This seems to be the place.” I tugged on my T-shirt. I wasn’t used to dressing like this. I had gotten so used to wearing tight jeans and T-shirts, not baggy clothes like this. But this was how I dressed before I was “popular”, and I decided I was going to have to train myself to get back into the ritual. I pushed open the doors and was hit with the scent of sweat. Ew. I pushed through the crowd, over to where there was a bar. I ordered a beer, figuring I deserved so much for even coming here tonight. The bartender asked for an ID. I pleaded with the guy to just let me have something, but he shook his head and shooed me away. I finally got him to give me a bottle of water, which paled in comparison to the beer I had wanted, but I took the water anyway and sort of drifted through the crowd and toward the band. It wasn’t Mike’s band playing. At least, I didn’t think it was. There were four kids, and none of them appeared to be Mike. I then realized that I didn’t even know what instrument he played. He could be that drum player, hidden back in the corner that I could hardly see. But it didn’t matter. I tried my hardest to enjoy myself, anyway. The band sucked though. I really hoped it wasn’t Mike’s band, since I knew he would find me and ask me what I thought. “That was Porcelain Dolls,” said an announcer into the microphone after the band finished their set. “Now it’s time for the guys you’ve been waiting for. The one, the only, SWEET CHILDREN!” The crowd went crazy, screaming and waving their arms in the air. There was a mosh pit to my left, which I almost got pulled into twice before the band even started playing. Mike rushed on stage with a bass, his shaggy hair all over the place. Out stepped another guy with black dreads, sporting a dress. I arched my eyebrow at the guy in the dress, but thought, who was I to judge? Then out came another guy, also wearing a dress. He retreated to the drumset and they exploded into song. They were actually really good. Especially in comparison to the band that gone before them. I found myself screaming and swaying to the music along with the people surrounding me. At one point, Mike made eye contact with me, looked a little surprised, then winked at me. This Mike kid was pretty funny. “So, what do you guys think?” asked the guitarist/vocalist into the microphone. The crowd screamed loudly. So loudly, in fact, that I could’ve sworn one of my eardrums shattered. I clutched my ear, but continued bouncing with the crowd as they went into another song. I finally had to push my way out to get another bottle of water. I sat down at the bar and took a long drink, relaxing for a moment before returning to the front. Unfortunately, the band finished their set before I had the chance to go back to the crowd. Mike practically flew to the bar, where the bartender handed him a beer. I was jealous. Mike was obviously younger than me, yet the bartender hadn’t even asked for his ID. It must be a musician thing. “Hey, Charlie,” he said, sitting next to me, beer in hand. “How did you like the show?” “You guys were amazing,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve seen a live show that good in a long time.” “Gee, thanks,” he laughed. “You have to meet the other guys in my band.” He stood up and scanned the area. The place was packed, and finding anyone in there would take a miracle. “There’s Billie!” he suddenly proclaimed, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me through a mass of sweating people (ew) all the way to the guy with the dreads, who was still wearing a dress. This guy, apparently named Billie, was talking to a few girls, who were all giggling at every word he said. They were groupies in training, just like most of my old friends had been. “Billie,” Mike interrupted. Billie turned to look at him, seeming very irritated. “What?” Billie asked. “This is my friend Charlie. You know, the one I ate lunch with.” “Hi, Charlie. Nice to meet you. I’m Billie.” He looked up at Mike. “Is there anything else you needed?” he asked. “Nope,” Mike shook his head. “Hey, there’s Tre,” he said, then again we were off. This guy, no longer wearing a dress, but instead shorts and a T-shirt, was drinking a beer and sitting with some guy, who had a scantily clad girl sitting on his lap. The guy, Tre I assumed, was actually pretty cute. I put on my best flirty face (it’s kind of sad that I actually have a specific expression for flirting) and walked over to him with Mike. “Hey, Tre. This is my friend Charlie.” Tre looked me up and down and I could feel myself blushing. “She’s pretty hot. Good job, Mike,” Tre said, giving him the thumbs up. I was blushing even more, but I could almost feel the color drain out of my face when I realized that Tre was probably Mike’s age. I couldn’t be interested in a sophomore. “How old is Tre?” I asked as Mike and I headed back to the bar. “Is he your age?” “Nah,” Mike said, and I could feel relief washing over me. “He’s younger. A freshman.” “What?” I almost screamed. “He’s 14?” “Yup,” Mike nodded. “Why?” “No reason,” I sighed. So much for that.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 13, 2005 23:07:59 GMT -5
Part Three
“Fancy seeing you here.” “Everywhere I go, I can’t seem to avoid you,” I said to Mike as he walked along side me. I was on my way to my second period class, which was probably my least favorite. It was filled with all the girls who used to be my friends but now hated my guts. They had spent the past few days glaring at me the entire period and laughing loudly to make me think I was missing out on something, but I knew there was nothing to be missing out on. I had played this trick many times while still in the clique with them. You would laugh loudly and toss your hair and say, “She said what?” so that the person you were ignoring would wish they were in on the juicy gossip. “I’m stalking you,” Mike laughed playfully. “So, did you really enjoy the show Friday?” “Yes,” I sighed. “Like I told you 1,000 times. It was great.” “I thought we could’ve done better,” Mike sighed. “Oh well. But I guess we did okay.” “You guys were great.” My voice was growing monotone as I tried to tell Mike that my opinion wouldn’t change, no matter how much he talked about it. He laughed. “Am I annoying you?” he asked. “Very much so,” I sighed. “Sorry. Well, this is my stop.” He pointed to a door up ahead. “See you later.” “That’s inevitable,” I grunted. He chuckled, then ducked into the classroom. Second period finally ended, after I had to listen to my ex-friends saying, “She said what?” about 90 million times. I finally escaped and headed to third period. I was on my way there when I saw Tre. No matter how young he was, I couldn’t deny that he was cute. He was standing next to the algebra classroom next door to my history class and talking to some guy. “Hey,” he said, waving at me as I walked past. “Charlie, right?” “Yeah,” I nodded. “Nick,” he said to the guy he had been talking to. “This is Charlie. She’s Mike’s girlfriend.” “What?” I nearly dropped my books. “Mike’s girlfriend? Since when am I Mike’s girlfriend?” “Oh, sorry,” Tre apologized. “Mike’s future girlfriend.” “I’m not Mike’s girlfriend or future girlfriend. Who told you this?” I was getting pissed off at whoever was spreading these rumors. “Mike,” Tre said simply. “He said you two were really getting close.” “Are you kidding me?” I almost choked on the words as I spat them out. “I can’t believe he would say that. That is such a lie.” “Well, you know, Mike likes to think he’s a real ladies man, but we all know that I’m the pimp in the group,” Tre said, leaning back real cool-like. “Whatever,” Nick snorted, then ducked into the classroom as the bell rang. I turned to head into class but was abruptly met by my history teacher, Mr. Smit. “Charlie, it would appear that you’re late. And you too, whoever you are,” he said, pointing to Tre. Tre’s eyes widened. He had been just about to sneak into his classroom, unnoticed. “Tardy passes. Both of you.” Mr. Smit pointed toward the main office. “Where do we get tardy passes?” Tre asked. Obviously a freshman. “The office is a place Charlie knows quite well. She’ll take you,” Mr. Smit laughed. He had been my history teacher for the past three years, following me each grade. I swear, his purpose on this earth is just to make my life a living hell. “Come on,” I mumbled, signaling for Tre to follow me. Mr. Smit went into the classroom, slamming the door behind him. “If you stay away from Mr. Smit, your life will be much happier.” “Mr. Smit? Is he that guy?” Tre asked, pointing toward the door. “Yeah,” I sighed. “So Mike really told you that we were ‘getting closer’ or whatever?” “No,” Tre laughed. “I just made that up.” “You stupid fucker,” I said, unsure of whether I should laugh or beat him up. “But I do think he likes you,” Tre said, winking. “That’s a shame, because I don’t like him. I like someone else.” Crap, did I just say that? I started thinking about that, and whether or not it was a lie. Did I like Tre? He was a freshman. But did that really matter? “Oh,” Tre said, sounding kind of disappointed. He probably wanted to play matchmaker with me and Mike. But I secretly kind of hoped that he was disappointed because HE was interested in me and thought I liked some other guy. “Your show was really good,” I said, trying to change the subject. “And you looked really hot in a dress.” Tre laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” “Your friend Billie seems to consider himself quite the ladies man, though,” I laughed, thinking about the groupies in training that had been hanging around him when we’d met. “Yeah. But he’s really cool when you separate him from all the hot girls. And when he’s not wearing a dress. As long as he’s got that fucking dress on, he thinks he’s some kind of god.” Tre said. I nodded, acting as though I understood why wearing a dress would make you feel godly. “Here we are,” I announced as we reached the door that read “Tardy Office”. “I’m surprised this is the first time I’ve been to this place,” Tre laughed. The lady in the tardy office looked at him. “Hello?” he said, arching an eyebrow and placing a rather seductive smile on his face. “I’m looking for the employee that runs this tardy office.” “I would be that employee,” the woman said, looking at him like he was crazy. “Really? I thought for sure you were a student.” The woman blushed a little. “Do you need a tardy?” she asked. “Yes, please,” Tre nodded. “Do you have a note?” she asked. “No ma’am,” he said. “My friend and I were about to enter our classes when the bell rang. We weren’t really late. Our teacher is just an old fart.” The woman giggled. I couldn’t believe this. It was like watching magic. “Here,” she said, handing him two tardy passes. “Thank you, gorgeous,” he said. She giggled again as he walked toward me, handing me my pass. “These say ‘excused tardy’.” I said, blinking at them. You only got an excused tardy if you had a note, and you could have as many excused tardy passes as you wanted without getting detention. “Yup,” Tre nodded. “All part of my master plan.” I stared at him in amazement as we wandered down the hallway. Okay, it was decided. I liked this Tre guy.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 24, 2005 13:59:14 GMT -5
Part Four
People have always told me that my teenage years are supposed to be the best years of my life. Bull shit. They suck. Why would anyone enjoy the years where your appearance and wealth determine your social status? Not that people stop judging other people once high school ends, but I guess those four years are when you care most. I spent the next couple of weeks trying to convince myself that I didn’t like Tre. I had this knack for not liking the guys I didn’t want to like. I would find one specific thing about them that I didn’t like, no matter how small, and make it the only thing I can think of when I see them. The only problem with this was that I couldn’t do that with Tre. I couldn’t even think of something I didn’t like. I never mentioned to Mike what Tre had said about him liking me, since I didn’t want Tre to have to take crap for it. I could only imagine how much Mike would freak out, whether or not he liked me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to like me or not. I mean, the thought was flattering, but I really didn’t like him in that way. He was a pretty cool person, though. We would eat lunch together, laughing about things that weren’t really very funny. We would see each other between most classes and would say hi. He was what I considered at the time to be my best friend, considering I only had two; him and Tre. “I’m having a party,” he said one Tuesday afternoon during lunch. “Really?” I sighed, finishing off my soda before tossing the bottle into the trashcan. “When?” “Saturday night.” He leaned back a little. “Who’s coming?” “Tre, Billie, and a bunch of people I’m pretty sure you don’t know,” he said. “Sounds like fun,” I laughed. “Am I invited?” “Of course,” he said. “Come ready to par-tay!” “If you ever say that again, I’ll hit you,” I murmured. He just smiled. “What time?” “7 or 8, you know. Whenever you want to come.” I nodded. “I guess I’ll be there. It’s not like I have plans.” Mike smirked at me like he always did when I would say something about my old friends ditching me. I had told him a long time ago about what happened, and he seemed sympathetic, telling me that they were cruel bitches that he wouldn’t screw if somebody paid him. That didn’t really help, but I didn’t tell him so. I just smiled at him and thanked him for caring. “Well, now you do,” he chuckled. “You have a ride and everything?” “Yeah,” I said. “By the way, I’m warning you, there might only be a couple other girls at the party.” “What? You being the ladies man that you are could only round up a few girls to come to the party? I bet the girls will come running from miles away when they find out you’re having a party,” I snickered. “It’s not that we couldn’t get girls,” Mike laughed. “We just invited a select few.” “Of course,” I sighed. The bell rang, signaling that lunch had ended. “See you tomorrow,” I said, waving farewell at him one more time before heading off to class. “Charlie,” he called. I turned around. He was waving me over, beckoning me to him. “What?” I asked, approaching him slowly. “I just, um, wanted to thank you for, you know, hanging out with me and stuff so I’m not a lonely loser.” He looked at his feet. This was weird. Why did he chose NOW to thank me for this? “Uh, your welcome?” I asked curiously. “And you’re still a loser, just not a lonely one.” He smiled a little, then the next thing I knew, he had leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine. We stood like that for a second, then a pulled away, more out of shock than anything. I blinked at him for a few seconds. He was blushing and staring back, as if he hadn’t been expecting that either. “I have to go,” I said, and almost ran off, my face burning. I could feel Mike watching me as I dashed away, and I tried not to imagine how he felt.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 24, 2005 14:33:04 GMT -5
Part Five
“I’m sorry,” Mike whispered as he plopped himself down at the cafeteria table next to me. “Don’t be,” I said, trying to speak that said it’s-okay-but-I-don’t-want-to-be-your-girlfriend-or-anything. I looked up at him. He was staring at me, seeming rather concerned. “What?” I asked. “You don’t like me, do you?” “Well, of course I like you. I hang out with you and everything, don’t I?” I tried to avoid the question I knew he was really trying to ask. “You know what I mean,” he sighed. “Are you, you know, romantically interested?” He drummed his fingers almost anxiously on the table. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying not to look him in the eye. “But no.” “Right,” he nodded, scooting back for a second. “Tre said you didn’t, but I didn’t really believe him.” “Oh,” I said. This was awkward and I didn’t want to talk about it, but Mike wasn’t getting that. “I didn’t think you would like me, seeing as how you’re older and stuff. Plus I’m probably totally out of your league,” he rambled, which only made things worse. Stop talking, I thought. “I don’t know why I ever thought you would. I’m such a loser.” “Shut up,” I finally said. He looked at me, almost kind of shocked. “Look, just stop ranting about it. You’re not a loser, it’s just that I’m not currently looking for a boyfriend. In fact, it’s kind of the last thing I want right now, okay?” “Sorry.” He turned around. “I don’t want for things to be awkward between us,” he sighed. “Things are only awkward if you make them that way,” I said, although I figured things would be pretty awkward no matter what. “So let’s not, okay?” He nodded in agreement, then began to eat his lunch in silence. “I really want to talk about it, though,” he said. Go figure, the one boy who actually wanted to talk about relationships was the one guy I didn’t want to talk about it with. “Fine,” I sighed. “Look, I really like you. You’re not like those bitches you used to hang out with. You’re nice, funny, sarcastic, original, you know…the works.” “The works?” “Let me finish. In the posse’ of me, Tre and Billie, Billie’s the one who gets all the girls. I’ve had two girlfriends in my life, and he’s had about four in a semester. Tre’s just crazy, and he makes friends really quickly, so he’s always doing something outside of the posse’. And here I am, with no girl and no friends. And with you I felt like I had both. Like maybe things were going to change.” “Mike,” I said, suddenly feeling like I had ruined this life. I felt like I hated myself. Stupid Charlie. Charlie the bitch. “It’s okay,” he said. “I should’ve known better than to think those kind of things. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he grunted, getting up and leaving me to eat my lunch alone. For the rest of the week, I hardly saw Mike. He didn’t eat lunch with me, which made me feel like a horrible person. I would wave to him in the halls, and he would wave back, but there would be no attempt to walk together and talk. When I talked to Tre before history, he seemed aware of everything that was going on. In fact, he probably knew more about how Mike was feeling than I did. But he knew not to mention it. Tre was smart like that.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 24, 2005 17:02:53 GMT -5
Part Six
“Charlie!” my mom screamed from down the stairs. “Telephone!” I lifted the phone to my ear, cupped my hand over the mouthpiece and shouted, “I’ve got it, Mom!” I waiting for the click on her end before finally greeting whoever it was that had called me. “Hello?” “Hey, Charlie,” said the voice. It was Tre. I was a little surprised. Actually, I was very surprised. “What’s up?” “Tre?” I was kind of doubtful as to whether or not it was him. After all, why would Tre be calling me? “Yeah?” “How did you get my number?” “Mike,” Tre said. “He gave me the number so I could call you and make sure you’re still coming to his party.” “Why couldn’t he call me himself?” I asked, throwing myself down on my bed. “He thought it would be awkward and stressful,” Tre mumbled. “So he figured I should call you.” “Is he still mad at me?” I asked, grabbing my purse off the floor and digging through it for a piece of gum, which I popped in my mouth almost as soon as I discovered it. “Not mad so much. Just kind of depressed. But he’ll get over it, believe me. You’re not the first girl to ever reject Mr. Mike,” Tre chuckled. “Ugh, it sounds so bad when you phrase it like that,” I groaned. “Phrase it like what?” “Saying that I rejected him. I feel awful as it is.” I chewed loudly on my gum, which was something I did when I was annoyed. “Are you eating something?” Tre almost laughed. “Maybe,” I sighed, chomping on the gum even more furiously. “But anyway, are you coming to his party?” “Does he still want me to?” I asked. “Duh,” Tre said. “Then yes, I’m still coming.” I had been kind of mentally debating it, but the fact that he had made Tre call and make sure made my decision easier. “Great. I’ll see you there, then,” Tre chuckled. “Alright,” I said. “Bye.” “Bye, Tre.” As soon as I set down the phone, my bedroom door opened and in strolled my little sister, Naomi, who was 12 years old. “Ooo, was that your boyfriend?” she asked, walking over to my bed. “Get out of my room. Now.” “Seriously, who was that?” she questioned, plopping down on the bed next to me as if I had invited her to sit there. “My friend. Now leave,” I said, chewing my gum. “Can I have some gum?” “No. I’m not kidding, Naomi. Get out of here.” I stared at her, hoping she would leave. She just stared back at me, with the same big, green eyes. She tossed her red hair before grabbing my purse and digging through it in search of gum. “THAT’S MINE!” I screeched, pulling it from her, only to see that she had found the gum anyway. “Haha!” she taunted. “Tell me who you were on the phone with, and I’ll give you your gum back.” “Keep the fucking gum and get out of my room,” I growled. “Ooo, you said the f word!” she proclaimed, pointing at my nose as if it was going to blow up or something. “I’m going to tell mommy!” My mom was someone who could put up with pretty much anything except for profanity, which I thought was kind of weird, but whatever. Ever since I had discovered this after saying “piss” in front of her during 6th grade, I had always run off and told her if Naomi even said “crap”. I knew that the last thing I wanted to deal with was my mother not letting me go to Mike’s party all because I had said “fuck”. “Fine,” I whispered. “If I tell you who I was on the phone with, will you promise not to tell Mom?” Naomi nodded. “My friend Tre,” I said. The name meant nothing to her, but her eyes widened as if I had told her I was on the phone with Johnny Depp or something. “You were on the phone with a boy?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “You talk like I’m five years old and like talking to a boy is some kind of novelty,” I sighed. “Is he your boyfriend?” she asked. “No,” I said. “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Not currently. Now go away. Please.” “Fine,” she said, getting off the bed, putting the gum in her mouth, and chewing loudly as she left.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 24, 2005 17:03:41 GMT -5
Part Seven
I stood outside of Mike’s house, waiting for someone to answer the doorbell. I could hear the music pumping from speakers inside. Tre had called again earlier that day to make sure I wasn’t going to back out of the party. In the conversation at that point, he told me that Mike lived with Billie’s family, something I was kind of surprised Mike had never told me. I finally gave up on anyone playing host at this party and opened the door myself. I was instantly hit with a wave of smoke, which didn’t bother me so much since I was an occasional smoker. I saw a large group of people sitting on the floor around an old TV set, surrounded by beer bottles. I wandered around, searching for someone I knew. I stepped onto the patio, where Mike was laying on the lawn, drunk off his ass. Billie was standing there, beer in hand, with his arm around the waist of some girl. He didn’t even seem to notice that Mike was laying the grass, practically passed out. The girl Billie was standing with looked at me. She had short, black hair and a pierced nose. She sported a short, denim skirt and a Ramones shirt. “Hi,” she said to me, as if she saw me everyday. “Hi,” I responded, walking over to the cooler I spotted and grabbing a beer. I opened it up and took a gulp. It tasted like shit. I hated cheap beer. But I kept drinking it anyway. “Hey. You’re, um,” Billie sighed, searching for my name in his head. “Crap, I can’t remember. What’s your name again?” “Charlie,” I smiled. “Right. Charlie. I’m Billie and this is Beth.” He pointed to the girl. She waved at me, and I waved back. “Is Mike okay?” I asked, pointing to him. “He’s fine,” Beth sighed. “He does this at almost every party. He gets drunk about two hours before the party starts and then passes out on the floor, or the lawn, or a bed. Then wakes up the next morning pissed that he drank so much and missed the best parts of the party.” “Oh,” I nodded. I guessed this was good. That way I didn’t have to face him and the awkwardness. “Where’s Tre?” “Late,” Billie sighed. “God knows when he’ll get here.” I nodded as if I knew all about Tre being late, something he apparently had a history of, then headed inside and finished off my beer. The only other girl at the party besides myself and Beth approached me and introduced herself. She told me that her name was Leah. She had dated Mike and Billie back in middle school, and was currently dating some guy who lived in Arizona, who was also at the party and stoned beyond belief. We talked and she fixed us up a couple of White Russians. We then carried our beverages out to the front porch and smoked while drinking and talking about random things. Every time we would finish our White Russians, we would head inside, have another, and go back outside to smoke. Actually, by about our fourth one, we more or less STUMBLED inside. By our seventh ones, we were too drunk to even walk, so we collapsed at the kitchen table and just sat there, laughing and staring at the walls.
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW “God,” I mumbled as David’s car finally pulled into Mike’s driveway. “That’s the last time I ask you to drive me anywhere.” David looked at me in the rearview mirror. “You say that every time I get you somewhere late, and then you call me again for a ride. Besides, I was doing you a favor. I had to drop Cindy off at her dad’s house.” He then started ranting about all the things he had to do before picking me up and taking me to Mike’s party. I wasn’t listening. I was instead staring at my watch. It was 10:20. The party had begun over three hours ago. I wondered if Charlie was still there. “I have to go,” I finally interrupted. “Thanks for the ride.” I opened the car door, climbed out, and slammed it shut behind me. I ignored David asking me what time he should pick me up until he threw something at me and hit me in the head. “What?” I asked, spinning around. “What time?” “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Give me a time or I won’t freaking pick you up at all!” “Fine then,” I said, spinning back around and heading in the front door. “Tre!” a group of people from in front of the TV shouted. They were all pretty drunk. “Hey,” I mumbled, heading out to the patio where I knew Billie and Mike would be. “Hey guys,” I greeted as I walked out. Mike was sitting in a chair, massaging his head and nursing to the hangover that he knew would be coming in a while. Billie was in the shadows of the backyard, making out with some girl, whom I figured was Beth, since we was the girl du jour. “Hey,” Mike almost whispered. “Is Charlie here?” I asked. Mike looked up at me, giving me a why-do-you-care look, but only responded with a shrug. “I just woke up,” he said. “And I think I’m going up to bed soon.” “You’re having a party and you want to sleep?” Mike just squinted at me. I smiled, then headed inside, in search of Charlie. It was kind of funny how much I cared about finding her, but then again, Mike had made me call her about 80 times to make sure she was coming. I just wanted to make sure my efforts paid off. I finally found her in the kitchen, her head pressed against the table. “Charlie?” I said. She looked up at me. “Tre?” she whispered, then clutched her hands in front of her mouth and sprinted past me. I followed behind her as she pushed open a few doors before finally finding the bathroom. I rushed in after her, pulling back her hair as she, um, got sick. “You’re very drunk,” I laughed. “Yeah,” she mumbled, coming up for air and flushing the toilet. “God, that’s gross.” She grabbed some toilet paper and wiped at her mouth. “Yeah it is,” I agreed, helping her stand up and wash off her face. “Did you just get here?” she asked. I nodded. “What time is it?” “About 10:30,” I said, looking at my watch. “Crap,” she groaned. She sat back down next to the toilet. “I don’t think I should move too far away from a bathroom.” She looked up at me, smiling. For a drunk person, she looked really cute. I couldn’t believe I was thinking this. Mike liked her. Stop it, Tre, I told myself. “I’ll stay with you,” I said, sitting next to her. “Thanks. Hey, do you think Mike’ll mind if I smoke in his house?” “Probably not,” I sighed. “Good,” she nodded, pulling some cigarettes from her purse and lighting up. We sat there in the bathroom for hours, until long after most people had left.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 25, 2005 13:41:04 GMT -5
Part Eight
“Where the hell am I?” I asked as I woke. I was in a bathroom, that was apparent, sitting on the floor next to a toilet. The air smelled of smoke and way too much air freshener. My head throbbed as I stood up and looked around. Leaning out the door, I began to recall that I was at Mike’s house, though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what had happened. I turned back around into the bathroom. I glared in the mirror. I looked pretty bad. My eyeliner had smudged, my lips were dry, and my purple hair was all over the place. I searched for my purse before finding it behind the toilet. I grabbed for it, finally pulling out some lip gloss and artfully putting it on around my lip ring. I turned on the sink and washed off the eyeliner, not even bothering to put new eyeliner on in its place. I ran my fingers through my hair before deciding that it looked halfway decent, then zipped my purse and headed into the hall. I entered the living room, which was littered with beer bottles and ashtrays. Where was everybody? I glanced at my watch. It was five AM. No wonder everyone had gone home. I wondered if my mom was back at home, concerned about her poor daughter. Knowing my mom, she had probably just assumed that I had gotten home and was asleep in my bed. I began to wander through the house, looking for someone who might have known what happened the night before. I opened the door to what was apparently Mike’s bedroom. Mike was asleep in a mass on top of the bed, which he hadn’t even bothered to unmake before collapsing. He snored loudly, and the glow of the TV flickered over him. I closed the door as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake him. I continued down the hallway until opening a door to a room I guessed to be Billie’s. Billie and Beth lay on the bed, both asleep and naked, mostly covered by the large, plaid quilt on his bed. “God, is anybody still awake in this house?” I whispered as I shut Billie’s door. I turned around to continue down the hall and almost ran into Tre. “Good morning,” he yawned, smiling as he did so. “Morning,” I said. “I kind of assumed you left.” “Never assume anything,” he said, stepping past me and heading toward the kitchen. “You know, I stay here so often that Billie’s mom actually refers to the guest bedroom as ‘Tre’s room’. I always found that pretty amusing.” I snickered. “It is kind of funny. Don’t you have a house?” “Yeah,” Tre said as we arrived in the kitchen. “I just hate it. Billie and Mike’s house is so much nicer. So, how’s your hangover?” “Eh, I’ve had worse,” I shrugged, sitting back at the kitchen tables. “How much did you drink last night, anyway?” he asked. I blinked. I couldn’t remember much about the previous night, just drinking and smoking with that Leah girl. I sat there, wondering why he had asked. Did I do something stupid? “You seemed pretty drunk,” he said as I was silent. “You got sick.” “Oh,” I said. “I don’t really remember much.” “Well, don’t worry. You didn’t make out with some random guy or anything.” Tre reached in the cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal. “You don’t seem like you have much of a hangover,” I mumbled. “That’s because I don’t,” he sighed. “I didn’t get a chance to drink anything. Not even a beer. I was too busy hanging out with you while you barfed all over Mike’s bathroom.” “Sorry,” I said, blushing a bit. “Hey, there wouldn’t happen to be an extra toothbrush around this place, would there?” “Check under the sink in the bathroom at the end of the hall. There might be a few there.” “Thanks,” I said, getting up and heading to the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I thought of what he had said. I wasn’t really sure about Tre’s drinking habits, but if he was like any guy I knew, he must really like me to pick spending time with me over getting drunk. But he probably didn’t like me. After all, he probably just thought of me as the older chick that his best friend liked. That was probably all I was.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 25, 2005 14:09:56 GMT -5
Part Nine
“I hate to ask this,” Tre said as I headed out Mike’s front door. “But do you think you could maybe give me a ride home?” “Depends. Where do you live?” I asked, walking toward my car with Tre tailing close behind. “Not far. Like, a few blocks from the school.” “What’s the name of the street?” I questioned as I unlocked the car. “Hedgebrooke,” he said. “No way,” I laughed. “My older sister lives there.” My older sister, Hope, had moved in that area after graduating from college and getting married. She had just recently given birth to a baby boy, whom she had named Phillip. “Really?” he smiled. “So, how about it? Can I get a lift?” “Why not?” I said, sitting in the car and starting it up as Tre climbed into the passenger side. I turned on the AC and the radio, humming along to the song that played as I drove down the street. “What are we listening to?” Tre asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “But it’s catchy.” “It’s awful,” he laughed, reaching over to change the station. “My car, my music,” I said. He squinted at me but said nothing more about the music. Instead he began talking to me about school and stuff. “Mike wanted me to ask you why you don’t like me,” he said rather arbitrarily after I finished telling him about my English paper. “He wanted me to make it all subtle, so that you wouldn’t think he had put me up to it, but I figured I might as well just ask.” “Um,” I thought for a minute. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel that way about it. I can’t really explain why.” “Well, what do you look for in a guy?” Tre asked. “He has to be funny, and fairly smart. And nice, of course. Cute is always a bonus,” I laughed. “Well, Mike fits that criteria. So why not? Is it because he’s younger than you?” “No,” I said. That couldn’t be it. After all, Tre was younger than Mike and I liked Tre. Wait, did I just admit that to myself? I like Tre, I thought. Wow, I really did like him. “Then why not?” “Why do you care?” I asked. “It’s a thing between me and Mike. Don’t get in the middle of it.” “Fine,” Tre sighed, looking out the window as we turned onto his street. “It’s the fourth one on the left.” “No fucking way,” I laughed. “You live next door to my sister.” “Next door? Your sister’s Hope?” “Yup,” I said, pulling into his driveway. “Here we are. I’ll see you Monday.” “Okay,” he said, climbing out. “See you then.”
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 25, 2005 21:58:38 GMT -5
Part Ten
“Charlie? What are you doing here?” Hope’s husband, Shawn, answered the door only a few seconds after I had rang the bell. “I was in the neighborhood. Your next door neighbor happens to be a friend of mine,” I said as I pointed at Tre’s house. “Can I come in?” “You’re friends with that kid?” Shawn asked, leaning out the door and looking over at Tre’s front yard, then back at me. “Yeah. Why?” “Well, nevermind. Come on in.” He stepped aside as I came in, instantly hit with the smell of incense, which was constantly burning at Hope’s house. Back when I was younger and she still lived at home, she had burned it in her room all the time, which I assumed meant she smoked pot. But I guessed she just liked the smell of it after it became quite apparent that she wasn’t into drugs. “I’ll go get Hope,” he said, rushing off as soon as I took a seat on the couch. I was starting to wish I hadn’t come. It was always some big ordeal when anyone ever visited Hope. If she wasn’t prepared, she practically had a fit. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” she screamed as she entered the living room. “Nice to see you too, Hope,” I sighed. “You could’ve called,” she groaned. “I was giving your next door neighbor a ride home. I had no idea he lived right there, though. I wasn’t planning on dropping by until I pulled into his driveway,” I said. “Wait, our neighbor? The Wrights or the Browns?” “Um,” I murmured. I didn’t know Tre’s last name. “I don’t know. His first name is Tre, though.” “Tre,” she repeated. “The Wright’s son. He’s trouble, Charlie.” “I have the odd feeling that you’re just saying that.” “No, really. He is. He comes home at all sorts of late hours of the night so drunk he can hardly stand,” she said. “Do you have any idea how many nights I would wake up and go into the hallway and there you’d be? You’d have fallen over because you were so drunk you couldn’t make it into your room. Do you remember that?” “That was different,” she said. “How?” “It just was, okay. I actually had a plan for my life. He just focuses on partying all the time.” “You don’t even know him,” I snapped. “Why are we fighting about him?” “Because he’s my friend. And the only reason you won’t take my word for it is because you never want me to be happy.” “That’s ridiculous,” she said, throwing herself on the couch. “It was a mistake to come here,” I mumbled, standing up and heading out the door. I didn’t really expect for her follow me out the door or try to convince me to stay. And she didn’t. “You still here?” I looked up. There was Tre, pushing a lawnmower out of his garage. “Yeah. I just thought I’d visit Hope.” I threw a finger over my shoulder at her house. “And let’s just say it wasn’t exactly pleasant.” He laughed. “I’m sorry to hear that.” “You going to mow the lawn?” I asked. “No,” he said sarcastically. “I just thought I’d take the mower for a nice little walk in the park.” I laughed, then waved goodbye and climbed into my car. I tried not to watch as he pulled off his shirt and started the mower, pushing it across the grass. I backed out of the driveway and honked at Tre once before riding away.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 25, 2005 22:55:59 GMT -5
Part Eleven
“I’m a jackass,” Mike announced as he sat down at the table in the lunchroom that Monday. “Is this supposed to be news?” I joked, but he obviously didn’t seem to get it. “I was kidding,” I murmured. He just nodded. “I’m sorry I totally ignored you next week, and I was wondering if maybe you would want to go to a movie with me,” he said, all quite quickly. I stared at him for a second. Had I not made it clear that I wasn’t interested in him?” “Mike...” “Listen,” he said. “I’m not sure why you don’t like me, but I know I won’t be satisfied until we’ve gone on at least one date. Please, just one date. Then if you still don’t like me, then fine. I’ll get off your case about it.” I sighed. “Okay. When and where?” His face lit up as if I had just made his day. “Um, how about tomorrow night? We can go to the movies over on Fifth,” he said. “Sounds good. Will you be driving or should I pick you up?” “You’ve forgotten that I don’t have a license yet,” he said. “Right,” I nodded. “So I’ll pick you up. Does seven-ish sound good?” “Yeah,” he agreed. “Seven sounds great.” Tuesday evening came around faster than expected. I stood in front of the mirror giving myself the once over. Why was I so worried about how I looked? This was Mike, my best friend, just some guy, no one special. He wasn’t the kind of guy I worked hard to impress, yet here I was in my black mini skirt, with my red tank top and layer upon layer of eyeliner. After deciding that I looked presentable, I snatched my purse off the bed and headed downstairs. “Bye, Mom!” I called as I headed out the front door and into my car. It didn’t take long for me to arrive at Mike’s house. He was sitting on the front porch with Billie, who didn’t look the slightest bit interested in whatever Mike was talking about. They both looked up as I pulled into the driveway, and Mike practically ran into the car. “Hey,” he said, slamming the door. “What movie are we seeing?” “I don’t really care,” I said, trying my hardest not to show him how little I really wanted to be going on a date with him. We arrived at the movies at about 7:30 and ended up going to some bad thriller movie that neither of us really wanted to see. He paid for my ticket, then the two of us ended up arguing about who would pay for the refreshments, but he finally won that debate. We headed into the theater just as the movie began and climbed into the very back, where I sat right in front of this really tall guy. I couldn’t see a thing. “God,” I whispered. Mike looked over at me for a second before realizing the problem. “You want to switch seats?” “Nah,” I said. “It’s not like I want to watch the movie anyway.” “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know,” he sighed. About 15 minutes later, I grew tired of not knowing what was happening in the movie, so I stood up. “What are you doing?” Mike whispered, but instead of answering, I plopped myself in his lap. He tried not to laugh, and I just smiled at him. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to go about showing a guy that you don’t like him, but whatever. About half an hour into the movie, Mike slipped his arm around my waist, and I didn’t react, so I guess he figured it was okay. It felt so weird, but at the same time, so natural, for Mike and I to be spending time together like this. I missed having a boyfriend. I missed feeling loved. And I guess that’s why I did the next thing I did. I turned and looked at Mike. He was watching the movie, the light of the film flickering on his face, and I leaned forward and pressed my lips into his. At first he pulled back a little, obviously surprised, but then reached around and grabbed my neck, almost as if he was trying to pull me further into his lap than I already was. The next thing I knew, our tongues were tangoing and his hand was wandering up the back of my shirt. I wasn’t one for move makeout sessions. In fact, I wasn’t big on PDA at all, but I didn’t mind this. And at that moment I wondered why I had totally shut myself off from Mike in the first place. It was a lot more logical for me to date him than Tre, anyway. “You want to get out of here?” I finally whispered in Mike’s ear. “What?” He blinked at me, as if he had caught the drift of my suggestion, but wasn’t sure if he had misread it. “You want to go back to your house or my house or somewhere?” I could feel the whore in me rising up again. But this time it was different. It wasn’t some random guy I had met at a party. It was Mike. I knew him. “Uh, if you want to,” he said, practically choking on the words. “Where to then?” I asked, climbing off his lap and settling myself in my own seat until we decided when to leave. “Well, Billie’s home, so that eliminates my house,” Mike said. “My mom and my sister are home,” I whispered. “So that means not my house either. Wait a second. I have an idea.” I jumped up, grabbing Mike by the arm and dragging him out of the theater.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 25, 2005 23:16:55 GMT -5
Part Twelve
“Where are we going?” Mike asked for the 80th time since we had gotten in the car. “You will see when we get there,” I said, also for the 80th time. Mike had been sitting there, fidgeting nervously. He practically stuttered every time he spoke, and I had constantly been asking if he was sure he wanted to do this. “Yeah, I do,” he had said every time I asked, so he couldn’t say I hadn’t given him the chance to back out. “Here we are,” I announced as we pulled into the parking lot of the large hotel about four blocks from my house. Mike looked up, appearing even more nervous than he had before. “And I’ll pay for this,” I said to him as I parked. We walked into the lobby and was instantly greeted by about eight of the hotel employees. The hotel was never that crowded, so the good rooms were always still available. Hence my going there instead of some cheap motel. The hotel was actually pretty nice, and reasonably priced. I had stayed there about three times when I had almost lost my virginity, but ended up telling the guy that I wasn’t quite ready. I got us a room for about $29, which was especially cheap, seeing as how their normal rates were $45. But the guy who gave us the keys told me that I looked like a nice kid. I just smiled and pulled Mike through the hallway, up the elevator and into room 227. I shut the door and looked at him. “I should call Billie,” he said. “Just so he doesn’t freak out or anything.” “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.” I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Was I going to do this? After all, the last time I had sex, all my friends had ditched me and I had been deemed the girl with no gag reflexes. I could hear Mike’s voice on the phone. “Yeah, I know. Oh shit. No, I don’t. I don’t know, do you think she has any? Well, it’s a pretty nice hotel. You think they have condoms in here?” His voice carried through the door. I almost laughed. I grabbed my purse and dug through it, producing a few condoms from my purse and wondered if I should tell Mike that I always carry them with me. I shoved them back into my purse and opened the door. “Got to go,” Mike said as soon as I came into view. “Bye.” He hung up and smiled up at me. “Um, I was wondering. Do you have, you know, something?” “Condoms?” “Yeah, those.” “Here,” I said, reaching in my purse and pulling them out. I tossed them at him. “Pick your size.” He went through them quickly, handing the leftovers back to me. I looked at what remained. I almost snorted when I realized he had taken the large ones. “Um, okay,” he sighed, fidgeting with the condom. “Don’t play with that too much or it’ll break,” I said. “And that would be bad.” “Yeah,” he nodded. “Um, sorry I’m so nervous.” “It’s okay,” I said, sitting on the bed next to him. “Wait a second. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” “What?” “YOU ARE!” I practically screamed, leaping off the bed and laughing. “It’s not funny,” he growled. “Sorry,” I giggled. “It’s just, for some reason I assumed you weren’t. I mean, I know Billie’s not. Either that or he just sleeps naked with his girlfriend.” “Well, Tre’s a virgin.” “Tre’s 14,” I sighed. “I’m 15. Not that big of a difference.” I stared at him, again doubting whether or not I wanted to do this. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked. He nodded. “Positive.” “Okay,” I said. I climbed onto the bed and pressed myself against him, pulling him into a kiss again. I opened one eye in time to see him set the condom on the bedside table, next to the clock that read “9:15”. His lips slowly moved from my mouth to my neck as he slipped the straps of my tank top off my shoulders. For a virgin, he seemed to know what he was doing.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 26, 2005 13:11:14 GMT -5
Part 13
I woke up at about 5 in the morning. I was laying in a tangled mess of sheets, and it took me a couple of seconds to realize I wasn’t wearing any clothes. Mike was next to me, snoring loudly, and I finally remembered what had happened the night before. I slipped out of the bed and walked over to where my clothes lay in a heap in front of the television. I carried them into the bathroom and got dressed as silently as possible. I waited until about 6 AM to wake Mike and tell him that we still had to go to school. “Damn,” he whispered. “Do you want to skip?” “Um, okay,” I said. “Hold on a second.” I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and looked at Mike. “What’s Tre’s phone number?” “If you call his house at 6 in the morning, his dad will freak out. What do you need to call him for, anyway?” “I was going to ask him to work his magic on the people at the attendance office and convince them that I’m there today,” I sighed, dropping my phone back into my purse. “I’ll call him,” Mike said as he held out his hand. I grabbed the phone again and handed it to him. He quickly dialed the number, explained to Tre’s dad that it was an emergency and he needed to speak to Tre. Then he told Tre what needed to be done, which Tre apparently deemed an easy job. After he hung up with Tre, Mike looked at me for a second. “Are you my girlfriend now?” “I guess,” I said, shrugging. “Do you want me to be?” “Yeah. I would really like that,” he said, scooting over on the bed and placing his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and realized how much I missed having a boyfriend. But for some reason, all I could think about was Tre. “I’m going to ask you a question and I want for you to answer me with 100% honesty, okay?” he said. “Okay,” I sighed, looking at him. “On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best, how good would you say I was in bed?” I exploded into a fit of laughter, pulling away from him. He laughed too, only not nearly as much. “7,” I finally said. “Only 7?” He looked very disappointed. “For your first time, that’s really good,” I said. “Will you shut up about it being my first time?” he chuckled pushing me lightly and then pulling me into his arms. We sat like that, just curled next to each other for about ten minutes before he finally said, “This would be a lot nicer if I wasn’t naked.” “What?” I asked, jumping away. I then remembered that I had woken up naked, and Mike hadn’t had the opportunity to get dressed. “Oh, right. Sorry, I won’t look.” I turned around. “I don’t really care,” Mike laughed. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.” “Good point,” I sighed, but opted not to turn around anyway. Finally he was dressed. “So, what do you want to do today?” he asked. “Um,” I thought. “You want to go to the mall?” “Not really, but if you want to then whatever.” “Well, I do,” I said. “So we’re going to your house so you can get a fresh change of clothes, then we’re going to my house so I can do the same, then off to the mall, okay?” “Sounds good,” Mike nodded and we left the hotel room.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 27, 2005 18:47:23 GMT -5
Part 14
“I had fun today,” I said to Mike as we sat in the food court. It was about 3 in the afternoon, and kids from school would be showing up at the mall any minute. I was rather anxious to get out of the mall. The last thing I wanted was some kind of awkward confrontation with one of my old friends, who would no doubt find the truancy officer and tell him I had been skipping. “But let’s go.” “Let me finish my pizza,” Mike sighed, taking another bite. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, sucking on the straw of my soda, trying to get the last few drops out. “Okay, now I’m ready to leave,” he announced, standing up and dropping his plate in the nearest trash receptacle. He then followed me as I more or less made a mad dash for the door. “What’s your hurry?” he called after me, but I didn’t have the chance to respond. I had just opened the large, glass door leading out of the food court into someone. It wasn’t one of my old friends. In fact, it was worse. It was Tre. For some reason a feeling of guilt came over me, like he could just look at me and tell that I had screwed Mike. But why would Tre care? He wasn’t dating me or anything. He was just my friend. Hopefully he would be okay with it, should he find out. “Hey, Tre,” Mike said as he slipped his arm around my waist. I could see Tre’s eyes following Mike’s arm. He then looked up at us. “Are you two going out?” he asked. I searched his face for an expression as to how he felt about the subject, but I his face was blank. “Yeah,” Mike said. “No way,” Tre laughed. He looked at me. “I thought you didn’t like Mike.” “Yeah, well,” I sighed, but said nothing more. “You want some ice cream?” Mike asked. “Not really,” I sighed. “Come on. My treat,” he begged. “Fine,” I groaned, unsure of why he wanted me to have ice cream so badly. “Okay. You stay here. Tre, come help me get the ice cream.” Tre nodded and followed behind as they headed back into the food court. It suddenly hit me why Mike had done this. I knew what was going to happen, and I knew it wasn’t going to be good.
TRE’S POINT OF VIEW “I really don’t think Charlie wants ice cream,” I said, looking at her through the door. “This isn’t about ice cream,” Mike said, as if it was obvious. “What’s it about?” I asked. “Charlie and I,” he sighed. “What about you two?” “Guess what I did last night,” he said, practically jumping three feet off the floor. “I hate guessing games,” I grunted, leading Mike toward the Baskin Robbins. He just blinked at me. “Come on. Guess,” he pleaded. “Okay. You got drunk and hit some old guy crossing the street and you need me to help you hide the body,” I said. “Well, that too,” he joked. “But something else.” “I don’t know, Mike. Just tell me.” “We fucked.” “WHAT?” I screamed. Oh shit, I thought. I could feel the heat rising to my face. I wanted to punch Mike. I wanted to beat the crap out of him. I wanted to freak out and tell him that Charlie could do so much better than him. But then again, if Charlie could do better than Mike, what would she want with me? “Could you keep it down?” some lady in front of us asked me. “Yeah, sorry,” Mike mumbled, then looked at me. “What’s wrong? Jealous?” “Jealous?” I repeated. Did he know that I liked her? How could he? I hadn’t given off any signs, had I? “Yeah. Jealous that I’m getting some and you’re not?” “Shut up,” I growled, relieved that he had meant something different. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asked. “Well, you guys are my friends. And if you have some kind of messy breakup, then I don’t want to have to take sides.” “We wouldn’t put you in that position,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to brush him off and tell him not to touch me, but I decided against it. Mike had her, not me. Besides, what would she want with a guy like me?
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