Locked Out of Spring Break (REWRITING)

Chapter 1: Sideways

Chapter 1 is here. 

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"Can you believe Spring Break is coming soon, Rico?" 

I pause my music and respond, "No. Can you?"

"Of course not!" Luciana ecstatically remarks. "I'm just glad we're finally having another break! What are your plans?"

"I don't have any plans other than listening to Debussy, Mozart, Bach, Pachelbel, Chopin—"

"Way to kill the mood by educating me," she cuts in. 

"Classical music shouldn't kill any mood," I defend, "It's a masterpiece altogether, that everyone should appreciate—"

She puts her hand up, signalling for me to be quiet. "Don't preach to me right now about the importance of classical music and how much it evolved, giving us a lot to be grateful for. Please."

I sigh, putting my earphone back into my ear. 

"Can you for once in your boring life do anything that's not related to classical music?" she exasperates, "Classical music this, classical music that. I don't think this is healthy, Rico."

I start humming the tune to Jesus Alegria Dos Homens. 

"Rico."

I continue humming the melodic music. 

"Rico!" She snags my music player, pulling my earphones from it. "Don't you think you should spice up your break this time?"

"It's already spiced up," I remark, "Classical music is my gateway from reality."

"You said that last Spring Break, Thanksgiving break, and Christmas break! In fact, you say that for every break we have."

I shrug. "So what? I utilize my breaks differently than you. You spend your time outdoors, I spend mine listening to my music. What's so wrong with that?"

"I think it's boring, Rico."

"Well, I think otherwise," I counter, taking my music player and earphones back from her.  

"I can't believe you're still obsessed," she mutters, annoyed. "You've been like this, since you found my baby cousin's Beethoven CD in middle school!" 

"Are you accusing me of having a mental illness?" I narrow my eyes at her. I remember begging her to buy me one of those CD's after I stumbled upon it. 

"If boring was a mental illness, you'd have it times ten."

"I'm not obsessed. You're mistaking my adoration for obsession, Lucy." I turn down my music. "Obsession is when you're too preoccupied on something in particular, meaning they're persistently impulsive and are drilled into your conscious state, which usually has an association with anxiety."

"Rico, enough. No need to give me a essay on it."

I sigh, "Fine." I plug my earphones back into my music player.

She takes a huge bite of her salad, sneering at me. "I hate when you sigh and say something smartass."

I take a bite from my hoagie, placing an earphone into my ear and pressing play. 

"You say that whenever you fail to realize no one gives a crap about the info you happened to give a lecture about." 

I shrug. "Just thought I should point it out, so that you won't have this wrong image of obsession."

"Whatever you say, Rico Arias," she sarcastically responds. 

"You're talking to me in that patronizing tone of yours."