This Little World of Mine

Chp. 2

"Care to elaborate?" Dug asked.

"No, not really. Because if I did, I would have to explain everything else to you and that could take a while." I tapped my finger on the plastic table. It was all I could do not to rush into Lucy's room.

"I've got some time. Let's see how far we can get."

School the next day was tough. Lucy wouldn't talk to me and Arthur kept giving me that smug look of his. I wasn't going to turn into an Arthur.

"Hey, Diana!" I whistled as I walked passed her. Damn, was she looking good, but that's besides the point.

"Shut up, skirt chaser," she growled. I stopped moving and made eye contact.

"What did you call me?" Every part of my brain was on overdrive. Only Lucy had ever made that crack and I had let it slide. It was meant to be derogatory, I knew.

"Your name." Diana put her hands on her hips and didn't back down.

"I am not," I replied. I sounded like a four year old.

"You are. I've heard things about you, Peters," ouch, there was the last name. Cruel. "Most of them weren't good."

"Better apply some ice to that burn, man!" Pace slapped me on the back as he scuffled to class.

I swatted his hand and groaned jokingly, "Jerk."

"What have you heard?" I asked through clenched teeth. It came out sounding more like, "who do I have to punch this time?"

"You've bedded pretty much every girl at your old school, plus your friend Lucy and all of her buddies," Diana's eyes narrowed. My stomach dropped like a stone. That wasn't true. I had kissed plenty of girls, but I wouldn't go that far. And Lucy? She wouldn't so much as look at me.

"None of that's true," I swallowed hard.

"Really?" Diana sounded sarcastic, like she didn't believe me.

"Really," I said firmly.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes and walked away.

.

.

.

I walked into my kitchen dragging a heavy bag behind me, scowling. I brushed passed a jar of pickles and knocked it to the floor.

It was there, most likely, due to my father's drunken rampage the night before. He's a strange drunk. He isn't abusive or violent or anything, thank god, but he's still strange. All Dad does when he's drunk is eat pickles and cry over old Malcolm in the Middle episodes.

"Seriously?" a woman from another table turned her head, laughing.

I nodded, "Yeah."

"I have to hear this," she continued laughing. "I'm Harriet, by the way."

She pulled her chair to our table, and I continued.

I tossed my backpack on the bed after I put away the pickle jar. I stared at my cell phone, debating whether or not to call Lucy.

I always did.

"Lucy, please pick up," I begged as it rang.

"Yeah?" Lucy yawned on the other end.

"Yes," I hissed. "Lucy? It's Matt. I just wanted to apologize-"

"No need." I could hear her pacing her room. Something wasn't right.

"Lucy, are you okay?"

"Well yeah, it's just I didn't think you knew, but now that you tried to kill Arthur, I know you know."