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Braden

I’m really not sure what that meant, exactly. When I wrote “You Owe Me”, I kind of thought it was mysterious. Kind of mystery man mysterious, and that maybe Kendal would find some excitement from whatever the hell I was thinking.

I thought wrong. Clearly. Very wrong.

Maybe I hoped for a sly grin from her, or like a knowing and devious little wink, but as soon as she read it, her back stiffened, and her entire posture become one of defense, which, as odd as it seems, I have also seen my cat do.

And when that happens, I usually watch helplessly as my cat launches into a flying tackle attack at my leg, wrap its spindly little body around my shin and go fangs deep into my flesh.

Kendal could do that. I’m pretty sure! I mean, yes, she’s wicked hot, and smart and sweet, but I’ve seen that pissed off glow she can get, and yes, I think she might wrap around my shins and go fangs deep on me too.

And then what? I can’t very well kick her into a wall!

What. The hell. Is WRONG with me!? Why does this stuff even come to mind? Kendal attacking my shins?

I. Am. An. Idiot.

She probably thinks I mean something sexual. God knows she’s probably had guys

expect that from her before, but seriously, I never meant that! Ok…ok, maybe there was a little hint of the idea when I wrote it. But nothing serious!

Quickly, I scroll another little note on the corner of a piece of tattered notebook paper, cover part of the page with my left hand, and tear the paper silently beneath my palm. I fold the paper and toss it back up over Kendal’s shoulder, much like I tossed the last one. Hopefully, it will take away some of the suspicion.

Hesitantly, she opens the note, reads what I wrote, and I see her take in a breath, and relax.

Thank you, sweet baby Jesus, for not letting me screw this up so bad…well…so badder? So much more bad? Why am I mis-conjugating again? Is ‘mis-conjugating’ a word? I wonder if I need to make a matrix for my conjugations.

As I am contemplating how such a matrix would actually work, I see Kendal quickly scribble something on the paper, crumple it and toss it over her shoulder where it pats against my chest and falls in a heap of misery on my quiz.

Slowly, I open the crumpled note, afraid of the message seeing as how she literally just killed the messenger who brought it!

I try to unfold the mass without making too much noise. I’m already in trouble for being late, so if I get caught passing notes…no matter what it says…I’ll fail the test for cheating too.

Once opened enough, I see my writing-well-kind of.

I see what I wrote to Kendal, and several words crossed out so the message is entirely different now!

Originally, the hastily written note said:

 

I meant you owe me coffee. His quizzes give me irreparable brain damage. So, how about it? Oh, and I still don’t know what happened with your dad last night. I’m kind of confused. Can we talk it over after school?

B

Now, with the marks eliminating words, her message back is rather surprising. I see also that she modified some punctuation and underlined a few words for emphasis. The only thing she wrote at all was the very last few words. And they make me feel like I’m going to pee.

It’s gross. It’s weird. But it’s true. She makes my bladder get twitter pated.

There’s psychological distress associated with this, no doubt.

I feel the sensation continue as I re-read her return letter.

You give me irreparable brain damage. I don’t know what happened with dad last night. I’m confused! After school. …no coffee. Dinner. I owe you.

K

She’s too smart for me. I could never write something like that.

Or-or could I?

Thinking it through, I slide a clean sheet of paper under my quiz and alternately taking the quiz and scribbling quick lines on the paper behind it. I wonder if she’ll see the real message here, not the note itself, but what it says if she reads only the first letter of each line.

Basically, I’m pretty open for dinner.

Right now, the only other plans I had was sitting in an

Oddly comfortable beanbag with a Mtn. Dew and

Doritos and veg out watching Survivor, or Jeopardy, or the

Young and the Restless. So, yeah, dinner with you sounds much better!

 

Kendal, I’m not totally sure what that means, though.

I mean, is it dinner, or is it a thing where you and I will

Sit around trying to figure out what the thing is with your dad?

See, he’s pretty intimidating, so if he’s really some super-secret

Elite FBI spy, I think I need to just not do anything that’ll cause his

Sniper buddy, Carl, to take me out.

 

Maybe I’m over-thinking this dad thing.

I just know that if my daughter was half as gorgeous as you, I’d go all

Rapunzel on her and lock her in a tower, far away from boys.

Random-right? You think that’s random?

Oh well, you’re probably right. And I should get back to

Really pissing away my future by failing yet another of his quizzes.

See ya after class.

 

B

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