Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Movement

ZOE

No Diggity // Chet Faker

"The time has come, Queen. Spill." Chelsea has her arm linked with mine, despite my loud protests, and is practically dragging me from her car to the grassy hill.

I've been successfully avoiding her all weekend, to her irritation. Dragon Lady was only too happy to put me on babysitting duty when she realized I had put myself on house arrest.

Once Chelsea found out I was in charge of Brat Supremo, she left me the hell alone. Ever since she watched what the kid does with his fingers while eating, eating being his number one favorite pastime, Chelsea won't even text me when I'm hanging around the Brat. Something about reciprocal cooties infecting the cellular waves, or some shit like that.

I gladly suffered through forty-eight hours of stomach turning torture with the eight-year-old vomit wagon to avoid one of Chelsea's hard core "tell me everything or I will torture you with endless chatter until you do" interrogations.

Unfortunately, I couldn't talk my way out of going to school. Dragon Lady never falls for my "I'm too sick to handle class" act. So the second I pulled into the lot and found Chelsea waiting for me, I took a deep breath and prepared myself to put on my "vagueness act." That one I've got down cold. That look of there is nothing going on inside my head, and answers that aren't really answers, is something most teens have learned how to master. As long as I keep the details of my night with Emerson vague, everything should be fine.

Chelsea gives me that favorite sideways glare of hers for a solid two minutes while I do my best to look nonchalant. She suddenly breaks the silence and says, "I know something with tongue occurred, and I need details like a crack-head needs a hit. So hit me with the damn deets already."

She sure has a way with words. I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and roll my neck slightly. The late October breeze flows through my sweater and the holes in my jeans. I'm not sure if the temperature of the cool wind is what causes the chill to run through my body, or if it's the sight of Emerson sitting on the hill just ahead of us. Either way, he just saved me from dropping all the dirty details to my girl.

I nod in his direction, silently appreciating his light grey Henley paired with a denim jacket and tan chinos. The preppy look has never been so appealing. And the fact I even had that thought means I've fallen pretty hard for this guy.

I raise my hand and wave at Emerson and then look back at Chelsea. "Not now, Chels. I'll save the deets for later. When we're alone."

"We're never alone anymore!" She says putting on a full pout. "When the hell are you going to tell me, what happened between you guys?" Chelsea is now whining and pouting simultaneously. "Stop leaving me in the cold about this stuff. I need to know!"

I just smile and shrug as we reach Emerson's spot.

I've been avoiding him as well, blaming my big sister responsibilities on my lack of texting after our big night out. I drop my bag on the grass. All his attention is suddenly focused on me and that the chill in my bones has now doubled. Must not be the weather after all.

Emerson gives me a wide smile. He doesn't seem upset that I've been unavailable. I wonder if he knows it was on purpose.

"Hey," he says to me. He hasn't even looked over at Chelsea. "Busy weekend?" He asks, his eyes sparkle as he says it, the double meaning in his words is clear.

I smirk, not able to help myself. "Yeah, it was."

I've been freaking out all weekend about kissing him, worrying that things would be weird when I saw him again. And it is a bit weird and awkward, but it looks like the weirdness is all on my side. Emerson appears cool and collected as he sits there on the grass.