The Casanova's Class Clown

Chap. 34: Candidates

CANDIDATES...

Oliver frowned at Cardor as he opened the door with a handful of pictures.

"You're late!" The heartthrob protested, spreading his legs in front of him and crossing one ankle over the other. "And you get angry every time we're late! Fraud!"

Cardor shot him a glare before reaching the table in front of him, spreading the pictures on the surface like it was a deck of cards and Oliver was to choose his hand. "One," He said, raising his index. "I am not late. You are simply early." The index pointed to the clock on the wall. "I said we meet at seven o'clock, first period. It is now exactly seven o'clock."

The redhead was right. Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. "Still rude to have kept me waiting."

Cardor raised the next finger. "Two, at least now you know the feeling of having to wait for someone you can't just drop like a hot potato. Else said hot potato would just jump back up and punch you purple across the pituitary."

Oliver did not like the thought of never having the ability to grow taller, or the fact that he might go sterile at such a young age, and he was about to say so, but Cardor raised a third finger and he had to shut his mouth again.

"Third," The gamer guy spoke, "We've lost valuable minutes with you having to have me sermon you, so let's just get to the point of business, shall we?"

Oliver grinned through gritted teeth. If there was anything more annoying in Cardor's entire personage, it was the fact that he could blame anyone for anything at the most ludicrous explanations while at the same time talking down to them like they were a child; like what he was doing to Oliver that moment.

Even though we're MOST DEFINITELY the same age.Oliver silently added.

Good thing the gamer guy wasn't a mind reader. Cardor got to the point of business. "We've found a few suspects."

Oliver sat up right, back straightening and instantly alert.

"But first," Oliver inwardly groaned. "Please check these photos if you will."

Cardor laid three pictures on the table, all of them familiar.

"Terry Albatross. A real mathlete and science wiz." He said, pointing at the picture of a guy leaning on the rails of a chic balcony that was taken from the inside. His hand proceeded to the next one, an overweight girl who took a selfie next to a delicious-looking box of pizza inside an old-fashioned Italian restaurant. "Fantasy Grace. Cheer captain in our old school until she transferred right before senior high." The last one was of an African-American girl with bleached blond hair. "And Harp Coop, rope climbing champion and natural athlete." He leaned back on his sofa, processing what it could all mean, scared if he was right. "We were classmates back in middle school. Why?"

Cardor didn't answer. Instead he took away the photos and replaced them with another two. First was a dark girl with blazing red hair and pale blue eyes, and the other was one with platinum blond hair, deep green eyes, and pale white skin. They both looked like the typical mean girls.

"Know 'em?" Cardor asked.

He laughed. A singular, displeased chuckle. "I know 'em all right. Ruby Faint and Sicily Ambers. The so-called jewels of Felicity Middle School." He was suddenly filled with disgust and contained fury, remembering all the times his friends had to suffer under the manipulative claws of those bitches. He decided to assuage himself by clenching and unclenching his fists, pretending it were the necks of the girls in the pictures in front of him. "They're a bunch of no good bullies who think power is in fear. I'm glad they don't go to DDA."