Just Kidding, But Seriously...

Sexy Duck Walks and Overdramatic Battle Cries

I've always wanted to start a story with...

"Hey, look! A wild Raymond is approaching!" I bellowed with a gasp, pointing behind Luke at Raymond who was walking up to us from across the hall. "Such a rare species."

Luke swiveled around, following my gaze. Raymond rolled his eyes at me with a shake of his head.

"I didn't know you still made Pokemon jokes," he told me, shoving me a little as he got to his locker.

"Hey, dude," Luke greeted him. His head twitched as he jerked the dark fringe out of his brown eyes.

Raymond ignored him.

"It's called taking a trip down memory lane," I replied defensively. "I like to spice things up a bit every now and then."

"So now your jokes are supposed to be like some sort of food that is in dire need of seasoning," Raymond said as he rummaged through his locker, not even bothering to glance at me.

I frowned at him before meeting Luke's gaze. We did that cool psychic thing where two people communicate with their eyes, the two of us nodding in full understanding.

Raymond was here minus Scarlett.

Now, I am no good at math (or any subject for that matter) but I do know that Raymond minus Scarlett equals a very moody, snarky Raymond with a negative sign of a hysterical, inconsolable Scarlett sulking somewhere in a dark corner of one of these very hallways.

Clearly there was trouble in paradise.

"Where's Scarlett?" I queried innocently, ignoring the daggers that Luke was shooting at me through his narrowed eyes.

Raymond's grip on the door of his locker tightened. "Oh, I dunno, why don't you ask her new dance partner?"

"Okay," I nodded. Then I stopped. "Wait, you're not talking about the pansy who's always wearing a lei around his neck and enjoys singing along to Beyonce every chance he gets, are you?"

Raymond nodded stiffly, jealousy storming in the depths of his denim blue eyes. "He's a fake, man. He's not actually gay."

"Dude, he's totally gay," I insisted. "Are you kidding me? No man would tear down his manliness just to get into a girl's pants. Luke, tell him."

"Derek's got a point... for once," Luke spoke up, the shining metal of his braces becoming evident as his lips moved. "According to the statistics conducted by Seventeen magazine's Hot Guy panel, approximately one out of five guys stated that they would pretend to fake their sexual orientation in order to achieve a girl's interest. This approximates to point-two, which when converted to a percentage is twenty percent of the entire male population-an extremely low number in comparison to the entire United States population of young men between the ages of thirteen and nineteen, let alone the number of young men in our own school."

For a moment Raymond and I just stood there, staring at Luke with blank expressions as we struggled to digest and comprehend his quick figuring of numbers and statistics. It was a good thing I had grown used to his sudden bursts of... what did he call it? Mathematical prowess.

"Did you just make reference to Seventeen magazine?" Raymond asked incredulously.

"My sister left it open on the coffee table!"

"I'm starting to wonder if Antonio the lei-wearing butterfly isn't the only person who's a bit on the fruity side," I stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Shut up, pea-brain," Luke muttered, pushing his square glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I like girls and boobies, thank you very much."

Trying to get back to the point, I punched Raymond's bulky arm. "Now that you got evidence from a bunch of hot guys in a girl's magazine that Luke eagerly reads on a monthly basis, go and tell Scarlett you're a jealous prick who doesn't deserve her so she could run into your arms and say, 'Oh baby-I know but I love you anyway!'"