"This is all your fault," I muttered, taking another book from Chris and shelving it. Katy, a senior and the librarian's assistant, momentarily glared at us from over her book, then buried herself back into the novel. She was supposed to watch us and make sure that we were shelving the books correctly.
Christian didn't answer me, but just stuck his tongue out. Then, his face went back into the love-sick dopey expression that made me want to scream. He could be hit by a car or shot right now, but he'd still have that look. It irritated me to no end.
We had taken out the history, non-fiction, and biography shelves. According to the clock on the wall, it was about seven o' clock. I had used the librarian's phone to call French and let him know where we were; he tended to freak out when I didn't come home before five.
A phone rang, releasing "I Can Hear the Bells" from Hairspray into the air. Not looking away from her book, Katy took the phone out of her pocket and flipped it open She brought it to her ear. "Hello?" Her voice was snotty and irritated me to no end.
She paused, and as I shelved another Martin Luther King Jr. book I heard the smile in her voice as she replied to the person on the other line. "I should be there in a few minutes, babe. Okay than. Bye."
She shut the phone and looked up from her book. "You two." The friendliness from her voice was completely gone. Christian and I turned to look at her.
"You can finish tomorrow." We were about halfway through.
Resisting the urge to run out the door screaming "FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST" at the top of my lungs, I stepped down from the mini ladder that I was standing on and grabbed my book bag from a table nearby. Chris followed, whistling with his hands in his pockets.
I stopped for a moment, turning around to look at the senior. "Katy?" I asked in the sweetest, most suck up tone I could muster.
She looked at me, her eyes narrowing. "What is it?"
"Could I use your phone?"
She smiled at me, though her eyes were like lasers. "Sure. And then, we can burn down the school and drive to Mexico so that we won't get caught."
"Really?" Chris asked excitedly. "Cause' I'm expert fire starter! I'll have this bad boy burning down in no time! And then we can take your car, Katy! And maybe stop by and get your boyfriend! And...and..." He faltered.
Katy just stared at him. Finally, she threw her head back and laughed. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled her phone out and threw it to me. "Make it quick. I have a date."
Well, there are some uses for Christian's cluelessness. I dialed French's number. Paris baby sat on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from five to eight, so she definitely couldn't pick us up. French picked up almost immediately.
"Hello?"
"French, I need you to come and pick us up."
"Are you still at the school?"
"Yep. Wait a second....French, is that classical music? Seriously?"
"I can explain. I'm on a date--"
Why did it seem like everyone was dating but me?
"--I'm going to send someone else to get you and Chris. Hold tight for a minute, okay?"
"Okay."
I heard a voice in the background. "Alright bye, be careful, love you, tell Chris he's in trouble." French hung up quickly.
~*~
"Hold tight for a minute," I mocked French's deep voice. "Whatever. We've been sitting out here for ages!"
"That was actually pretty good, Momo."
"Thanks. Don't call me that."
"But we've only been sitting out here for like, three minutes."
We sat on the curb of the sidewalk that led to the library. Katy was long gone; she'd sped out of here without a second glance back at us.
I resisted the urge to growl at Chris and instead, returned my focus to my French homework. We had to write out phrases that we might use when describing some of our family members.
For example: when describing Chris, I might say...
Mon frère, Christian, est maladroitet achalant. My brother, Christian, is clumsy and annoying.
I wrote the sentence down in French and English and bit on the tip of my pen. Was I bashing my step-brother in French? Yes. Did I care? No. I was tired, hungry, a bit creeped out by the fact that there was no one around but my ex boyfriend aka my step-brother aka the bane of my existence.
It was something that I would never, ever wish on anyone. Right on cue, Chris began whistling "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Again. I peered at him, irritated. "It that the only tune you know?"
He stopped for a moment, thinking, his brow creased. Finally, snapped his fingers. "Got it!"
He began to whistle again, a different tune this time. I listened more closely. It sounded familiar but...
I looked at him. "You have got to be kidding me."
"She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck, thighs like what, what, what, baby move your butt, butt, butt."
He nudged me. "Come on, Mona, you know this is our song."
"No."
"But--"
"NO. Absolutely not. There no way in--"
"Please?"
I heaved a sigh. "I think I'll sing it again," I sang dully into the night. He smacked my back, standing up and starting to dance around like a teenage girl.
"She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck, thighs like what, what, what--"
"All night long!" I sang as he danced over to me. He grabbed both of my hands and hauled me up, my pencil falling to the ground as he swung around and we both sang, "Let me see that thong!"
Unwillingly, I began dancing around with him.
"I like it when the beat goes--" I said.
"Duh dun duh." Chris jumped around like a little puppy dog.
"Baby make your booty go--"
"Duh dun duh."
"Baby I know you wanna show--"
"Duh dun duh."
"That thong thong thong thong thong!" We yelled together.
"Well, it looks like someone has no street smarts at all."
Chris and I jumped simultaneously and whirled around.
A guy, really a dark character, stood with his hands in his pockets. His blonde hair stuck up at all angles, but still seemed stylish at the same time. He was tall, like Scott and Chris (what was with it with all of these tall people) and his eyes shone like brownish gray orbs under the dim streetlight. He was wearing a black shirt with a silver chain underneath, and black pants. His hands were in his pockets. He wasn't smirking; just eyeing us with curious yet amused and wary expression.
"Is one of you named Mona Lisa?" He asked.
"I am." I said, stepping forward. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," he replied vaguely. His lip twitched upward for a hint of a second and he bent down to pick up my books and put them in my bookbag. Before I could think to stop him, he shouldered the bag. It looked very odd.
"Don't just stand there looking shocked," he flashed a grin. "Come on." He began walking into the darkness."
"He's so QUIET," Chris hissed in my ear.
A chuckle escaped my lips and the guy looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Something funny?"
"You," I answered without thinking. A blush formed on my cheeks as I realized that I just said. "Wait, sorry."
"Glad I amuse you," he said, shrugging. We followed him out to the parking lot in silence, followig some distance away. I couldn't help but notice the way he carried himself--as if he were untouchable. I wondered where French had found this character. A bar? Maybe a street fight?
We came to a sleek, black car. There was really no other way I could describe it. My mom's boyfriends weren't really mechanical or anything, and French didn't really care about automobiles so I wasn't one of those girl who could rattle off make, model, year, engine type, and mileage or whatever.
The guy actually looked disappointed when swoon. Chris, though, had a reaction big enough for the both of us. He just about inhaled the moon and his eyes became saucers. "Dude," he breathed, "that has to be about the second--no, third most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."
"Thanks. Don't touch." He unlocked the doors with the click of a button and Chris danced over to the passenger side, opening the door and jumping in. Rolling my eyes, I went for my door but found someone else opening it. I looked at the guy for a moment, then stepped in. "Thanks," I muttered.
He shut the door and I strapped my seatbelt in. The interior was very clean, for a guy's car.
Chris kept his car like a dumpster.
The guy got in and shut his door, then cranked up the car. It purred as it started, releasing ear-drum blasting scream music into the air. I covered my ears and yelled, "Turn it down!"
He obediently pushed the button. I slowly looked up. Both boys were looking at me, one with humor and the other with concern and again, humor. Idiots.
"Sorry," he apologized, turning back around.
Chris though, kept on looking at me with a huge smirk plastered on his face.
After about thirty seconds, I couldn't take it anymore. "What?" I asked, annoyed.
"Nothing."
More staring. It was really starting to unnerve me. We were driving down the dark road now, and had stopped at a stoplight.
"What?" I asked again.
"Nothing."
Sighing, I decided to ignore him. I looked out the window. He drove very fast, but I actually liked the speed.
I heard fumbling from Chris and then:
Plink!
The guy slammed on breaks hard.
"AAAHHHHHH!" Chris and I screamed as we began to spin. The guy was jerking right and left with the steering wheel. The car tilted to the side and we nearly fell into a ditch, but it fell back onto all four wheels.
We were still screaming.
Finally, I clamped my mouth shut. Chris looked from the windshield to the guy and back.
"Pick up," the guy said slowly, "the tic tac. Now."
I stopped breathing.
Was.
He.
Serious.
"You tried to kill us all over a tic tac on the ground?" I asked, my voice a little high. Disbelief coated the words.
"Yes," he answered simply.
"Are you OUT OF YOUR FREAKING MIND?"
"Maybe."
"Dude!" Chris said finally after reaching behind him and picking up the orange tic tac. "That was AWESOME! Can we do that again!?!"
"I think not!" I said loudly, at the same time that the guy said, "Ask me again in a few days."
"Can we please just go home?" My voice was shaking. "Like, right now."
"Mona was born with a stick up her butt--"
"Christian," I snapped.
~*~
Kind of boring, I know, but the next few chapters should be pretty good. I'm running on empty here though...I need a computer break lol. I'm trying to make this as unpredicatble and non-cliche' as possible, so hold tight!