Seth's Point of View
The next morning when I get climb up into Miles' car I decide that I need to straighten things out about what happened last night.
I reach towards the radio and turn it down slightly. He tries to swat my hand away and says, "What the hell, man?"
"We need to talk. You know about the bet right?"
Miles nods, his eyes still glued on the road.
"Well, you know Peyton has to go on a bunch of dates in order to win. So, I mean, you going on one date with her is fine and all. You just can't go on another date," I attempt to explain.
The corners of his mouth turn down, "Why not?"
"If you two start going out on all these dates, she'll hit twenty dates before I can get Elizabeth to fall in love with me," I tell him.
"I see what you mean, but it's just a dumb bet, Seth. Peyton's cute and sweet and funny. I'm not going to stop hanging out with her because of a bet," he says.
"Come on, Miles. You two don't even have anything in common!"
Miles shoots me a look, "We both love action movies, breakfast foods, and winter."
"Well, you don't even know her that well. She could be one of those people who don't trim their toe nails, or skin their cats. Maybe she eats off of dirty dishes or something," I warn him.
"Damn, Seth. I'm not saying I'm going to marry the girl. I just had a really good time on our date, and I'm not going to stay away from her over a bet. I thought you'd be happy for me, man."
"I am," I protest.
He gives me a sad look, "You've got a damn weird way of showing it." Then he reaches forward and turns the radio back up, ending our conversation.
* * * * *
Peyton and I are silently writing information on our project in Language Arts when the loud speaker comes on and plays out over the classroom.
"Will Peyton Waters and Seth Torres please report to the front office? That is all." The room falls into a dead silence, and Peyton starts tapping her fingers really quickly on the desk.
Peyton's eyes meet mine and widen. "What the fuck?"
Ms. Henderson writes us a pass, and we walk out into the hallway. The squeak of our sneakers is the only sound in the desolate hall.
Peyton starts freaking out. "Oh my god, my parents are going to kill me."
I roll my eyes at the exaggeration, "That's illegal in this century, Pey."
She freezes outside the office door, and I literally have to tug her inside.
"We're probably not even in trouble," I assure her.
The secretary waves us into Dr. Keller's office, and then I realize we are in deep shit. "I take that back," I whisper.
"Shit," Peyton mutters.
Dr. Keller says, "Come sit down." Her voice is almost robotic, and absolutely terrifying.
Peyton squeaks, "Are we in trouble?"
"Well, Ms. Waters, it has been brought to my attention that the two of you were assigned a detention recently. Is it true that you did not attend?"
Peyton says, "Yes" at the same time that I deny it. Peyton glares at me, silently warning me not to make this any worse.
Dr. Keller sighs, "I would expect this from you, Mr. Torres, but Peyton never acts out like this. Are you having trouble at home?"
Peyton blushes, embarrassed. "No, definitely not! I just lost track of time. It will never happen again."
Dr. Keller gives us a tight grin, "I'm sure it won't sweetie. To make sure this never happens again you will both be working the face paint booth at the middle school this evening at six. I will check in with the chaperones there. I assure you that if I discover you did not show up your punishment will be much more severe. Do you both understand?"
Peyton looks crushed. Has she ever been in trouble?
"Okay, we'll be there," I finally say, slicing the thick silence settling around us.
Peyton looks like a zombie when we reach the hallway. She slides down against the lockers and hugs her legs to her chest.
"Come on, Pey. Don't get all upset. You got in trouble one time. It's no big deal," I say.
"I have never been in the principal's office, ever. This is all your fault," she hisses, her bottom lip quivering.
When the bell ring she races to get away from me, and I catch up with Miles and explain what happened.
"It's no big deal, all we have to do is help out at a school dance," I tell him.
"It was obviously a big deal to her, man," he says, flatly.
