Strings Attached

~Chapter 10~

"This king right here," I point to myself, "is enough to make her swoon if he so much as touched her." "Don't be cryptic Dan, tell us what happened?" Harte speaks up impatiently. "Oh, she just started crying, poor girl," I tell them in mock sympathy and they burst out laughing.

"That's a pity, man. I hoped she was courageous enough to slip in her number," this time, surprisingly, Tyler is the one saying that. I look at him awestruck and pat his back as a compliment. "You're catching up like a good boy." "Hah! You're talking to a master right here," he says proudly. "And he's cocky!" I thump my arms, shouting as if in triumph. I feel like a parent right now, who has accomplished something big.

"Confident and cocky, you're ready to become a bad boy," I tell him in a serious tone then wink, and he grins. "Glad you think so, my exalted guru!" And when someone asks me to tell them if she full-on bawled or just fell dainty tears on her hands, I turn around facing her back, and demonstrate by making 'boohooing' sounds exaggeratedly, and everyone starts haw-hawing and thumping the desks in energetic laughter. At least, some of us found the situation funny.

And when Graham comes in, we laugh in his face until he becomes red with embarrassment and anger. He looks at me pointedly but, surprisingly, keeps his mouth shut. Good for him! If he'd tried to exercise his power too much, he'd have found himself cornered somewhere, anyway. Chuck can get really wild if he wants to.

I realize that I do have to take her number, either she's willing to part with the information or not. How else would I ask her about the homework Graham has given us to do? I'm her eternal slave, if she hasn't forgotten. Although, I think it will be her who's gonna do it for the both of us. I didn't hear a single word he said.

______

I try to pay attention to Mrs. Ferguson as she drones on about the various levels of needs in Maslow's Hierarchy Theory, and try not to be conspicuous with my fidgeting. I'm barely able to sit still in my seat. All the need that I'm feeling right now is to go and empty my bladder. Shame she's the only decent teacher around. Although, I'm determined to hate Management Studies, she makes it quite interesting. I'd never tell that to a living soul though.

Needless to say, when the class ends, I run to the washroom at the end of the corridor and relieve myself. "How much did you down yesterday with that f**ktard friend of yours?" Richie Rich asks me, coming to piss off his barely-there self-respect. Pun much intended. "You ran from that room as if your life depended upon it." He lets out a strangled laughter.

"Oh, you poor dandy! You haven't got your share of the booze and manning up. Dear mamma has been mollycoddling you too much. Trying being a male for once," I tell him, sniggering at his face. But then, I become serious.

"Anyway, if you so wanted me to shower all that I downed yesterday from my a** upon your smelly face, you could tell me," I jeer at him. He just scrunches his nose in answer. "You know you're at the losing end here," he tries again. I only tsk-tsk at him. "Is mamma's boy trying too hard to cut her apron strings? Rebecca wouldn't be too happy, darling boy! Say bye-bye to your dream of being in the same superior league as me." And telling him thus, I'm off.

I could say a few more things, or even land a punch for swearing about my friends, but I refrained from giving him the impetus of spreading tall-tales about me. I wasn't even drinking yesterday night. Besides, I've no reason to get my hands dirty on such a rat-bag.