After DC told me I fit the qualifications of someone he'd murder, I never wanted to speak to him again. So I probably shouldn't have blamed him for something he didn't do, against someone he couldn't stand. It sort of cheesed him off...
Okay, this i...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
"Why didn't you just ask him to move?" Elyse questioned, her fork poised above her mouth, broccoli hanging precariously close to toppling off as she paused in animation to look at me quizzically.
I stared at her in blank shock, unable to form a sentence, reviewing the events in my head as I considered her query. It was perfectly logical and she knew it. I knew she knew it because of how she said it. So simplistic. Why hadn't I just asked him to move? I wondered silently as I looked at her, seeing things through her eyes.
I knew Elyse would have done it, no problem, that was what I loved the most about her. She opened her mouth and said exactly what she thought, to whomever, for whatever reason. No apologies. If she had asked DC Birch to move away from her personal space and he hadn't, she would have made him. But me?
Asking him to move over had never occurred to me and it probably never would have without her prompting. The entire bus ride I just stayed there, pressed against the window on one side and DC on the other, wishing the uncomfortable affair would end already. And I had never, not once, thought to ask him to simply move over.
What was wrong with me?
Well that was probably too loaded a question to delve into during a forty minute lunch period, so I doubted that I actually wanted to go there. I blinked the thought away, trying to focus on whatever it was that Elyse was saying to me. She'd still been talking while my mind had wandered into 'what if' land and I figured that I'd probably missed a good half of a rant by now, knowing her.
"I said," she began to explain when I blinked back into awareness, not even needing me to admit that I'd zoned out because she knew me that well. "If he bothers you again, I'll punch him so hard my fist will go right through his throat."
It was a typical 'Elyse' threat, very over dramatic and graphic. I should have been used to it but I still managed to wince from surprise as she delivered it. She ignored me and continued her one woman rampage.
"Why didn't you tell me about this yesterday, when it counted?" Her blonde eyebrows shot up incredulously as she framed the question. "I could have taken him out." She mimicked a punching motion with her hand balled into a fist, slamming it into the palm of her other hand. "Or at least given you a ride this morning. Did he ride the bus again? God, Care, I can't believe that creep lives right next door to you."
"No, he didn't, I don't know," I faltered, jumbling my answers together, suddenly conscious of the fact that Elyse had attracted Madison and Lindsay's attention with her dramatics and now both of them were looking at me. "I mean, no, he didn't ride the bus this morning. And I don't know why I didn't tell you yesterday."
Except I did know, of course, it was because I'd found Patrick Graywake's diary and that had taken over the forefront of my thoughts. The fact that the basketball team's captain had a diary in the first place and that it was now within my possession. Of all things. But I couldn't say that out loud because of one set of green eyes and one brown that were entirely focused on our conversation now.
