table for one (part two)
Homecoming came and homecoming went and the most Lulu got out of it was a date with Caleb-who-she-was-just-friends-with.
“Did I see you looking at Fabian?” No one said Fabian Fenwick because the other Fabian (if there was one, she couldn’t be bothered to know) was completely irrelevant. Fabian Fenwick, in his massive, egotistical girth, eclipsed all other Fabians and reigned as the alpha Fabian.
He was a bit like the sun, she thought, if the sun was a good for nothing teenage boy who she did not fancy and could explode for all she cared.
But so Lulu’s post-homecoming depression week was dotted, no, shot through with violently, with these types of questions, “Did I see you looking at Fabian?” Most of the time it was one of her Two Friends, Keyna or Tam. Keyna had an attitude problem that extended to her front door, and Tam had no attitude problem but a significant appreciation for lesbian vampires. They were all fond of them (lesbian vampires? There’s no downside) but Tam’s love of them was particularly admirable.
“Did I see you looking at Fabian at homecoming?” This was Keyna. She had just sassed her way through her bedroom, living room, kitchen, hallway, staircase, and half of her brother’s bedroom, and the three of them were now seated on her bed.
Lulu sniffed. “Definitely not. Wouldn’t if you paid me.”
Keyna made a face. “Sure, Lu. Whatever you say.” She then rolled her eyes while Lulu gave her her most scathing look.
“Homecoming wasn’t all that bad,” she continued.
Lulu nodded. “They played good music this year.”
“It was lacking in lesbian vampires,” Tam said. They all nodded solemnly.
“I noticed that too,” Keyna said.
The other times she heard, “Did I see you looking at Fabian?” was at school in classes when there was free time. This was the ideal time to ask Lulu anything because the teacher was always present and there was a certain standard that was required of the students: be quiet, and don’t kill each other. This was why it was the ideal time to ask Lulu anything, because she couldn’t kill you.
“Did I see you looking at Fabian?” This was Ivory Phillips speaking, and, despite her name, was not in fact ivory and instead a shade of off-off-off white.
Lulu looked at her. Ivory considered fleeing the country, but held her ground. “When?”
“During homecoming, obviously. You were like, staring at him for like, three songs straight.”
“Yeah, yeah, and during the slow songs, too.” This was Caleb-who-she-was-just-friends-with speaking, and Lulu looked at him in a way that suggested they might not be friends any more. He didn’t seem to be personally offended by her possible appraisal of said Fabian during the songs he and Lulu danced together, so Lulu granted him a pardon for the time being.
“Well, maybe you both should get your eyes checked.”
“Did last week, and they’re fine,” Ivory said, looking at her through a pair of obnoxiously blue coloured glasses.
“Hm,” Lulu said.
The other other time she was asked, “Did I see you looking at Fabian?” was never because Fabian didn’t refer to himself in the third person. (Obviously.)
Instead, he said, “Did I see you looking at me?”
Lulu pointedly avoided looking him in the eyes. “When?” Then she added, “Wait, no, don’t answer that, I would never look at you.”
She heard him laugh and just had to look at him to glare at him. However he caught her eyes and gave her an incredibly dumb smile. “Dammit,” she said. “I guess I’ll never be able to see again.”
This was a mistake, because all boys seem to have this particular response tucked up their sleeves (or lack thereof, in the case of Nathan Bullshwick, who unfortunately always wore sleeveless shirts):
“Why, because I’m so good-looking?”
She huffed and angrily tried to stamp down her blush.
“Are you blushing?”
“Of course not,” she snapped. “If my cheeks are turning red, it’s because all the oxygen in the room is being used up by you to ask stupid questions.”
He grinned.
Dammit.
A/N: Firstly, yes yes yes I know I switched to past tense but please see the clause starting with "secondly." Secondly, if you're taking this seriously, we have a problem. I am not taking this seriously, and therefore care very little about the tenses and/or literary value of this piece. If you believe that this is the carrott top of modern day literature and should be forcibly be removed with a kitchen knife and thrown into the sink to die, then please, take it out on a carrott and not me. Fourthly, there is no "thirdly." Fifthly, Happy New Year's! Sixthly, I believe that I will attempt to end every part of this short with "Dammit," to keep with the general spirit of my life.
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