Curly and Me ✣Narry✣ *COMPLETED*

Chapter 3

So yeah! How bout some Narry? :)

 ----

Not knowing has got to be the most annoying thing in the world. You know that feeling you get when something’s at the tip of your tongue but you just can’t put the right words to it? You know that overwhelming excitement when you’re at the precipice of understanding something, yet it eludes you at the very last moment? You get so angry when stuff like that happens because you know you know it but you just can’t remember that word, or the title of that song, or the name of the girl that gave you your first hickey at the back of a sleek and sexy 1996 Camaro V6 3800 Series 2. You know that feeling right?

Well, I was feeling that the whole time after Harry left my room with his mystery problem. The one tiny snag was that I couldn’t get angry at myself because it wasn’t something I forgot. I remember everything, remember? The problem was Harry wouldn’t tell me. So technically, I could get angry at him. He was the one holding back what I needed to know. He was the word at the tip of my tongue just refusing to be spoken. He was the source of my aggravation!

Being the good best friend that I was, I went over to his place after he stormed out of mine. I had no trouble getting into his house since I practically lived there with the amount of time Harry and I spent bouncing between our homes. Mrs. S was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. Normally, I would just greet her offhandedly. But that day, I found myself stopping in my tracks. The sordid expression she had prompted nothing less than complete and total petrification. The only thing missing in the scene were the snakes writhing in her hair.

Now, a little something about Mrs. S before I continue. Her name was Anne but since Harry liked calling my mom “Mrs. H”, I took the liberty of returning the favor of calling his mom Mrs. S, she didn’t see any harm in it so I only continued. Anyway, Mrs. S was a single parent from the beginning of time, which predates the dinosaurs. She was born single and would likely die single the way she sometimes behaved. Nobody knew who Harry’s dad is or was – though I highly suspected he was entombed in this god awful statue that was left in their last house. Regardless of my perfectly reasonable speculations, the way Mrs. S tells it was she wasn’t seeing anyone when she was pregnant with Harry. So, short of divine intervention, it was clear that Mr. S was unlikely to make an appearance.

Mrs. S raised Harry on her own. Like all other single parents, she seemed to have developed a splitpersonality that incorporated both father and mother figures. She was, in effect, both Mr. and Mrs. S built into one formidable woman. She could display at a moment’s whim the stern, authoritative demeanor I’ve come to associate with my father or the caring and gentle behavior often shown by my mother.

I was at that moment looking at “Mr. S half” and she had a look that clearly said you screwed my daughter, now I’m gonna screw you! And I just knew she could do it since she had taken the most brutal and dangerous profession known to mankind.

She was a lawyer.

“Hey, Mrs. S,” I charmed in as upbeat a tone I could manage. “How ya doin’?”

Mrs. S just looked at me and I could have sworn her eyebrows were twitching as the pupils of her eyes changed into a cold grey stone color. She took the coffee mug in her hand and took a sip before gently putting it back on the table before her. The slight curve of her satisfied lips made me think of a sly animals enjoying the taste of her freshly caught prey. She continued looking in a way that could have unnerved any normal being, much less a teenager. I was of course immune being the perfect being I was.

“So, you know where Haz is?” I asked after the very evident lack of a verbal response.

“You know where Harry is,” she said sweetly. The expression on her face remained unfazed.