The Bucket List [ON HOLD]

The Bucket List - Part 4

“But it’s so time-consuming,” Ian was saying politely while Carmen checked her reflex scowl.

“Maybe, but it’s so useful to snag random hotties walking by,” she countered. I recovered enough to interrupt.

“What are you guys talking about?” I asked curiously, only to jump in my seat as Chance answered me in a bored voice from beside me. He’d chosen shade again, too.

“Ian, as student body president, has received numerous complaints and requests to abolish ties from our school uniform. They find them time-consuming to tie, and they get in the way. Carmen, however, is against changing it to eliminate ties, because she feels it is extremely useful in, uhhh,” Chance faltered.

“In snagging guys walking by,” Carmen finished for him. “I mean, you just reach out, grab their tie, and you can do anything you want with them!”

I stared at her. “Yeah... I’m with Ian.”

Ian smiled at me gratefully. I could see how hard this was for the both of them, acting nice. Wow, this must be killing Carmen.

Ian and Carmen rose, Carmen taking her purse and flipping her hair, surprisingly focused instead of staring off at guys walking by.

“Where are you guys going?” I demanded, ignoring the chanting going on behind me.

“Greg, Greg, he’s so naughty. Greg, Greg, he’s our hottie. Greg, Greg...”

“Ian’s taking me to my locker. We’re doing number 8 on the list today after school,” Carmen informed me with a grim determination.

My jaw dropped. “Already?” I shrieked. Several people looked over curiously, and I lowered my voice. “But we just got the list yesterday!”

Carmen looked coolly down at me. “Yeah, so? I’d rather get this over with, don’t you?”

          They turned and walked away, leaving me staring after them in shock. Somehow, the reality of it hadn’t hit until just now. That I’ll actually at some point will be trying to jump off the CN Tower. The thought of it had me bent in half, dry heaving. Thankfully nothing came up.

          I felt a burning hand on my back. “Are you all right?” Chance’s concerned voice asked me.

          I straightened suddenly and whirled on him, thankful that this at least, I’d be able to control. Maybe it was unfair, but at least I could blame Chance for something.

          “No, I am not all right!” I hissed at him venomously. Chance looked unsurprised by my reaction.

          “What’s wrong?”

          My mouth worked uselessly for a second. “What’s wrong?” I repeated incredulously. “What’s wrong? What do you think? Do you know how many times in the next month I’ll come close to dying? Or even worse,” I gasped at the horror of the thought, “be arrested?”

          To my fury, Chance chuckled. “You need to get your priorities straightened out.”

          My face burned at the jab. Okay, so I was OCD. And a goody-goody. You know that scene, in Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs where the reporter girl confesses to the geeky guy:

          I was once... *Cue ashamed pause* ...a NERD!

          Well, that was me. I was, indeed, once a nerd. I guess I still am the brains of the group. Just a much prettier and more unapproachable one. But I still didn’t appreciate Chance’s amusement at my approach to the problem. True, he was in pretty much the same situation. But he’d been breaking rules since he could crawl, though no one really cared because he was so... so... infuriatingly charming. Whereas I... I was still getting used to the idea of being popular.

          My face still burning, I turned away from him, too angry to keep talking, trying to save some dignity. My heart skipped a beat when I felt Chance’s strong arm encircle my waist from behind.

          “Hey,” he said huskily, softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you cared this much about it.”

          I shuddered at his breath on my ear. “Of course I care about it, idiot,” I said, in an attempt to push him away. “I’ll be risking my life, won’t I?”

          He chuckled again. “Not really. I’ll always be there, holding you.” His arm tightened around me.

          “That’s so reassuring,” I said sarcastically, but inside, an unexpected warmth was blooming.

          Chance sighed gently into my ear again. He moved so that he was facing me on the bench. I fought to keep my eyes open, because the heat that he made me feel just made me want to lean in, and...

          No. I snapped out of it to look at Chance’s blue eyes, boring into my own. His expression was unreadable.

          “Allie,” he said quietly. Somehow, I knew that I didn’t need to respond. I watched him take his thumb, and then he pressed it into the hollow of my throat, in that little dip of skin.

          I shuddered again, so aware of that one, simple touch. It was as if he was touching my heart.

          After a few moments, the proximity of our bodies jerked me away from him, breaking the contact. Chance’s face was smooth, impassive. It occurred to me only then that he might be hiding something from me. But what? Chance was always our open book, the dependable one. He always knew what to say, what to do. We needed him more than anyone else in the group.

          What had Amber said? Only Chance has any real character left.

          “See you in history class,” he said calmly, like he would to any other girl. I watched him go, watched him sling his arm around a cute little brunette in his easy manner.

          I watched him flirt with a group of freshmen as he walked away and I asked myself how I’d never noticed how masculine Chance had become. How I had never noticed how desirable he was, and how many girls focused their attention on him. I’d always known but never realized it.

          “See you,” I whispered after him. A strange ache in my chest began, as though I’d lost something. But I’d never had him in the first place. I never would, I told myself firmly.

          Taking a deep breath, I collected myself then rose effortlessly. Striding into the circle, I broke the rhythm of the Greg Session chant and I yanked Greg to his feet. His eyes flew open.

          “Allie,” he said in a dignified voice once he realized who it was. “I was literally in the middle of something really important, and neither I nor mini-Greg appreciate being so rudely interrupted—”

          “Shut it,” I cut in nicely. “Come on.”

          Pouting, Greg took my hand and we headed inside. The bimbos let up an unholy, screechy whine which I couldn’t tolerate. When Mother Bimbo, aka Sheyanne intercepted me, scowling and spouting profanities, I pushed by her.

          “Get over it,” I snapped. “Life hurts.”

          Does it ever.

Note from Ella:

Hello lovelies! Hope you enjoyed it. I've got a twist for Ivy League, but it includes this story a bit so stay tuned! Since this story is my first in the Watty Awards, I kinda REALLY need your help!  Have a lovely day >:)