The Exchange

Chapter 3

"Fine, fine. Just let me get my keys." I sighed.

"Wait, I didn't mean right now. Don't you have to unpack, get settled in, you know?" Arti asked.

"Nope," Viktor replied, looking away.

"Huh?" Arti turned to me.

"Pretty much all his stuff got stolen," I explained.

"Oh my god! One time that happened to me!" Arti exclaimed.

Viktor turned back to her. "Really?"

"Yep. When I was ten, my family went on a road trip to Florida, and my little sister threw my MP3 player out of the window," Arti said.

Viktor laughed. "It's not quite the same thing." He pronounced the th sound as an f sound. "And that wasn't even your fault."

"Well, neither was yours. People shouldn't steal, so it's literally the other guy's fault," Arti replied.

Viktor smiled. "Well, thanks." Or rather, fanks.

"We better get going. It's 8:30, and we have a lot of stuff to see, plus we have to get food. I'm starving," Matt interrupted.

I went to grab my keys from inside, and shortly after, we were climbing into my car. Arti, Viktor, and Matt were in the back, and Blaine was in the front seat. I started the car, and Blaine took a look at the radio station I had on.

"Really? The local artist channel?" Blaine let out a sigh. "You always listen to shit music." He took out his phone and aux cord, then began to play Carry on My Wayward Son.

"Please, play what you like," I mumbled to myself, rolling my eyes.

"Play that funky music, white boy," Arti, seated right between Viktor and Matt, exclaimed and began to sing along. She, unlike me, had at least four ounces of talent and was a rebellious rocker inside and out.

"So, you guys said something about a mall?" Viktor said.

Arti stopped singing. "Oh, yeah. The Mall of America. It's basically the best thing ever. I've never shopped anywhere else, because they have literally everything."

"You only have one mall in America?" Viktor asked.

"Oh, no. I guess that's a little unclear." Arti laughed. "It's just one of the biggest in the country. I work there at one of the sports stores, so if you ever need anything, let me know."

"Did she mention that she's also a compulsive liar?" I added. She didn't work there. She didn't even have a job.

"No, I'm not. I just lie without even thinking about it. I don't lie or exaggerate on purpose," Arti said. "Sorry. It just slipped out."

"That's what compulsive means, but whatever you say." I laughed.

She crossed her arms. "Well, I don't like labels."

"Or polysyllabic words, apparently," I said, and Blaine let out a laugh. Arti glared at him.

"I will fight you," she threatened.

"Okay, Art." Blaine laughed. Arti threatened to beat people up a lot for someone five foot one and a hundred and fifteen pounds.

"I'm not talking to them anymore. They're picking on me," Arti said, turning to Viktor. "Tell me about yourself. And not just, 'Hi, I'm Viktor. I'm from Sweden, and my favorite song is Dancing Queen.'"

"Okay. Um, my favorite song isn't actually Dancing Queen," Viktor replied.

"You're right. I just stereotyped you so bad. What kind of music do you like? Swedish House Mafia? Icona Pop?"