This Diary I Found

15 :: A Date of Horrors

CHAPTER 15: A Date of Horrors

"Are you kidding me?"

Sage kicked the stand down and left the motorcycle to lean on it. She hopped off, pulling the blood red helmet from her head.

"That's not a car!" I stressed.

"Very observant," she deadpanned.

"You promised me a car!"

"I promised you a car if you won the game," she shot back, shoving the helmet at me. "And as I recall, the game was a draw. So, technically, you didn't win."

Yes, the El Clasico match ended with a draw. Let me just be clear that I was about to win. I remember very clearly that my main man Messi was about to do a flawless bicycle kick from Villa's assist when zap!

The electricity went down. For a moment, silence washed over Sage and me, just sitting there in the darkness with a sense of shock and confusion. Realizing that it was a blackout, Sage doubled over, laughing her ass off at my misfortune.

The chances of the power going back on were meek.

I suggested that I'd be crowned the winner since it was obvious that I was about to win.

Sage suggested shoving the controller up my ass.

In the end, we just settled in calling the game a draw and agreed to comply with each other's bets.

She promised to provide a vehicle for my date and I promised to help out at the Montaño Theater this weekend.

But, of course, the hustler found a loophole. Well, she's not the only one.

"Fine!" I gave in. "But this means I won't be rendering my entire weekend at your little theater."

She glared. Ooh, she didn't see that coming. "Fine," she copied. "You can just help out on Sunday."

"Sunday," I agreed and she passed me the helmet.

"You know how to drive this, right?" she asked, pointing to the motorcycle.

"Of course!" I exerted effort to sound convincing.

"Have you ever driven one before?"

"No," I answered, "but I'm a guy. How hard can it be?"

"You think being male gives you some kind of power to learn driving a motorcycle?"

I shrugged. "How hard can it be? You do it."

She shook her head and dragged me to the vehicle. "This," she pointed to the metal thingy on the handle, "is the clutch. That's the brake. Please don't mix them up. You kickstart the motor, rev up, slowly release the clutch, walk the motorcycle until you're going fast enough to put your feet up on the pegs. Got it?"

My jaw was hanging by the time she finished her minute motor safety course. Still, I nodded like I actually got the instructions. It's a pretty convincing nod, I practice it every time my Chemistry teacher asks if we know how diagram compounds.

"Kickstart, rev, clutch, vroom, vroom," I said dismissively and snatched the keys from her. She didn't let go of them. Instead, she gripped my hand and pulled me closer.

"You scratch this vehicle, I'll scratch your eyes out," she threatened. It was coming from a 5"2' blue-eyed blondie but it still made the hair on my neck stand.

I tried my best to gulp as subtle as I could but I think she still noticed it. I nodded.

She finally let go of the keys. "See 'ya!" she chirped, practically transforming from a menacing little gremlin to Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls. She bounced away towards school like nothing happened.