Talk Disney to Me

Dumbo

So sorry for the delay! I've been volunteering at my church all week for camp and the week before I had dance concerts all day so I had no time to write :( I'll try to get the next chapter out quick. 

Also, dedicated to TOGCCCOM for the amazing banner on the side! It's lovely. 

Unedited. Enjoy! 

Chapter Seven

“Becky, let me explain.” I started, slamming the car door shut.

     Becky turned the keys in the ignition and the car gave a loud angry rumble. Turns out, even the elite popular folk are not immune to getting the cops called on them. Apparently, there was a cabin behind the lake and the owners phoned the cops on us for excessive noise and underage drinking. I couldn’t help but think of the unlikely hood of it. Like, who actually stays at a cabin during practical winter? Then again, who actually has an outdoor party on a Monday night during practical winter?

      This place has taken a train straight to crazy town, I’m telling ya.

      So, obviously I was forced to phone Becky, who was just getting off her shift at Dona’s Diner, best coffee in town, and was forced to come and pick me up. And, currently I was trying to come up with anything that would save me from getting my ass killed.

      “Wendy! Wendy, wait!” Noah cried, running straight towards me at a speed that had me wondering if he really was Peter Pan.

      Yeah, Peter Pan on steroids.

      His blonde curls bounced as he skidded to a stop next to our car. I popped open the door and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “What is it, Noah?”

      He is so not helping my ‘try to not get killed’ case.

      He smiled his blinding smile, the one that showed his dimples. He rubbed his neck. “You wouldn’t happen to have more room in that car, would you?”

     “Noah,” I said slowly. “You drove here, remember?”

     “Yes,” he nodded assuredly. “I remember that, but you see, I may have consumed some beverages that are not associated with road safety.”

     I could’ve sworn he was one hundred percent sober. Maybe it’s because he normally acts like a drunken buffoon that I simply couldn’t tell the difference.

     I looked to Becky with pleading eyes. She sighed and looked over my shoulder to Noah, “Get in.” She snapped.

     Noah smiled and hopped into the backseat of our car happily. “Thank you so much! You have no idea what my parents would do if they found me here. They would kill me. Actually, I don’t even think they would kill me, they would just give me that disappointed look and be like ‘Noah, we expect more from you. I know you’re going through a tough time, with moving and all, but you still can’t be doing these foolish teenage things.’ Actually, they’d probably put it in a nicer way. They’re nice like that.”

      I let my head fall against the window as Becky bumped her way out of the dirt lot.

     Noah continued to ramble on. “Their kind of strict though, especially with my sister, but I guess I understand that. Hopefully they’re asleep when I get home, if not,” he made a cutting movement over his throat before whispering. “Dead Noah.”

     I stifled a laugh with my sleeve.

    “I wonder what happens after death. I have this overwhelming urge to just know, you know? But, then again, I don’t actually want to die, I don’t think I do, anyways. I mean, dying could be a great thing. Dying could be the reason we’re living. Maybe this is like a practice, like a pre-game practice to prepare for what comes next. Maybe we’re living for dying.”