If I Had a Taser, You'd Be On the Ground Spasming Right Now.

If I Had a Taser, You'd Be On the Ground Spasming Right Now. (13)

Chris hopped in the front, so I got stuck with the backseat. Usually I'd bully him into getting the back but I learned that screaming at people is much more effective when they can't see the expression on your face half the time. You just have to imagine their facial expression. French's imagination runs wild.  

I slammed my door. French remained calm, though his hands on the wheel tensed slightly.  

I didn't even bother saying anything, because I knew he would start spewing crap in three...two...one...  

"Mona Lisa," he started, then stopped. He pulled off and started driving.

I gritted my teeth. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What do you have to say for yourself? Christian, if you do not stop mocking me I will knock the dye out of your hair."  

 "Sorry," Chris piped.

"Usually you interrupt me with a stern telling-off. I was counting on that."

"So you have nothing to say for yourself." I concluded.

"Heck no. I had the bloody time of my life." He made a sharp turn and sent me into the window. I swore under my breath. He looked at me through the rearview mirror and clucked. "No seatbelt? I thought you were more responsible then that."

"You did that on purpose," I accused, sticking my seatbelt in. "And you still owe me."

"I took a little day off for myself, Mona. Is that so bad?"

I thought for a moment. "No..." I said carefully. "But I do need a favor."  

 ~*~  

I had no idea what to wear whatsoever.  

I also had no idea why I was treating this like a date. I mean, I did make that deal with French. Not because I didn't want to go out with Scott, but because he tried to trick me into going out with him on the sly. I couldn't make him think that he was smarter than me. Once boys start to think that they're smarter than females, their heads swell up and they start to become proud of themselves, and then the human race doesn't advance because they think that they don't need to advance anymore.   Okay, that was pretty stupid. But I still had to let him know that I wasn't in for his garbage. No matter how cute it was.  

My door flew open.  

Gwen stood there, hair in perfect order and chest heaving. She pointed an accusing finger at me. "You!"

"Me?"

"You're going on an effing date and you didn't tell me!?"

"Or me?" Paris stepped out from behind Gwen.    "It's not--"

"It's a date." Gwen snapped. "I know what date prep looks like." She eyed the clothes strewn everywhere. Ivana sat on the dresser, sucking on a lollipop with her baseball cap on backwards. "I have said it once, and I will say it again. I absolutely refuse to clean this stuff up."  

We all looked at her. She shrugged. "Just saying."  

Gwen sighed heavily. "I'm surrounded by tomboys. Come on, Paris, let's help our hopeless sister out."  

Paris came in and shut the door behind her. Gwen walked over to my clothes and calmly picked up a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. "Here."

I caught them and looked at her. "They're surprisingly..."

"Casual?" She guessed.

"Yeah."

"You're casual, Mona, and besides, it's first date."