Willow
I am hoping to start a brand-new tradition here, one where people introduce strangers to each other, and then they politely acknowledge each other's existence. I know it is a groundbreakingly unique idea, but so far, Ronja is embracing it. Paisley is still just sullenly glaring at her, though.
"Yeah, sure... We'll see," she grunts, but I think there's a softening to her features because Ronja is in the kind of state where only a heartless person can glare at her and mean it. If there's one thing that I've learned beyond any doubt this past week, it's that Paisley is not heartless. What she said might not have been strictly polite, but I'll accept it as an acknowledgement of Ronja's existence.
"What's up, Wisteria? You look like you're about to die. I don't get along well with dead people... they're no fun," Paisley says after a minute of awkward silence. I half expect Ronja to take to her feet again and run off, but she doesn't; she looks from Paisley to me, chewing her lip, and then she makes up her mind to speak.
"I need Willow to help me. I will pay for tutor classes," Ronja says. Apparently, she doesn't have a problem with her rather strange name change. Perhaps she is too distressed to care, flitting anxious eyes back and forth between us.
"You want to learn how to be a tutor?" Paisley asks, and I'm about to give her a stern look when I realise she's not mocking the girl; that is really what she thinks Ronja meant.
"No, I need tutor."
"Oh! Well, you had me at pay," Paisley shrugs, taking the crumpled piece of paper Ronja is trying to hand me. "Oh, shit! You're gonna fail English!" she chortles as if she's sharing a fun fact. I do give her a stern look now, but I might as well be looking at the tree behind her. She lets me take the sheet, and I can now understand Ronja's despair. It is her mock test from the English periods we had just before break time, and it does not look good at all.
"No," I say, grabbing her hand when she gives a soft gasp, Paisley's thoughtful words making her sag even more. "You're not going to fail! Of course, I'll help you!"
"How much?" Paisley wants to know, still stuck on the whole payment idea, and it's my turn to just ignore her.
"I was actually hoping to talk to you about an arrangement because I'd really love it if we could study together for some of our subjects. I need your help too, probably more than you need mine."
I'm glad to see Ronja's face perk up at my words.
"Hey, Velma! When were you going to ask me to study with you? What am I? Chopped liver?"
"Velma?" I ask, giving Paisley a confused look. "Why am I Velma now? What happened to Alice? I liked Alice. I'm used to Alice. I'm never going to remember my name if you keep on changing it at random!"
Paisley laughs at me, and then she thinks it over for a bit, scratching her head.
"No, you're right, Jake is Velma, except," she pauses, lifting her hands with her index fingers extended, measuring a section of air between them. It seems that she is trying to be accurate, moving them closer together and further apart, squinting with concentration. "He has a-"
"Are you also failing English?!" I ask her, hurriedly interrupting her explanation. I am suddenly quite certain about what new dimension of weirdness she is about to lead us into, and I definitely do not want to go on that journey! I know that she is doing ridiculously well in most of her subjects. Apparently, my level of surprise when I found out was: "Super insulting, Alice!"
"No, but I can also be helpful."
"Neither of us takes Business Studies, Geography, IT or Accounting," I point out, and then I see Paisley's face fall and realise that she really needs to be included and that I'm dangerously close to actually hurting her feelings. "But, I would definitely appreciate your insights into Maths... and if you promise to actually study, I'd really love to study with you. It will be fun."
And I mean it.
Paisley is all smiles now. "I'm not paying you to tutor me," she says cheekily. "Just add it to the sprite's bill."
"I'm not going to charge Ronja!"
I turn to Ronja and am surprised to find her watching us with a faintly amused smile. She is looking slightly less anxious at the prospect of potential help. "Thank you! Thank you!" she says, first to me and then to Paisley. Surely, she doesn't really think that Paisley is going to be helpful?!
"Where are we going to study? I vote for Funland, but I kinda think you'll be against that idea," Paisley suggests, grinning now, clearly delighted at the prospect of having some study buddies to keep from studying.
"You know me so well," I tell her, and Ronja gives an amused laugh.
"We could study at my house when Papa's wife is not there," she offers, looking a little nervous.
"Where do you live?" Paisley asks, her interest clearly peaked.
"33 Lakeside Meander, it's over by the-"
"Right around the corner from you, Alice! It's that road that runs along the side of the park where you walk your feather duster. Willow is in 25 Pine Valley Crescent," she tells Ronja.
"Oh! I think I've seen your house when I'm walking to bus stop."
"There's a bus stop?" I was pleasantly surprised to hear that Ronja lives so near me, but I'm even more thrilled to hear about a thing called a bus stop within walking distance from my home. Just imagine all the places I could go without being a nuisance to others! Why hasn't anybody told me about this wonder yet?
"Which one is number 33?" Paisley asks Ronja. "The one with the pink roof and those weird-ass green balls all over the front yard?"
She means the house with the Rose Terracotta roof and well-shaped topiaries neatly lining the driveway, but she's Paisley, so...
"No, it is big white mausoleum next to that one," Ronja laughs, shaking her head.
Paisley gives her throaty laugh, clearly enjoying that description. "That place is grand! I've never been in there before!" she says in a way that would make anybody suspect that she usually goes creeping into people's homes without their knowledge and has already ticked most of the other houses off her list. "We definitely have to study there at least once."
"So, I suppose it would be most convenient if we studied at my home on other days, wouldn't it? It's the most central." Actually, I have no idea where Paisley lives, but she has so many possible ways to get to the Drakes' house. "I'll just clear it with Aunt Beth and-"
"Seriously, Alice," Paisley interrupts. "Clear it with Aunt Beth? She'll buy decorations and make snacks when she finds out that you're going to have your very own friends over for a party. Just hearing you call it your home will already have the woman baking a celebration cake."
I frown at Paisley; I'm really not sure I understand what she is trying to say. Of course, I need to ask Aunt Beth and Uncle Ryan's permission to have people over.
"You do know what the word study means, right?" I've seen her English marks. Perhaps she cheats on her exams.
"What's in there?" she ignores me, giving a yawn and nodding at Ronja's lunch box lying lonely and forgotten next to her.
"Oh," Ronja says, picking it up and peeling off the lid. "Almond Kringler; it is Scandinavian dessert. Sometimes I bake when I am stressed. You can have if you like."
"I definitely like," Paisley grins, taking one of the triangularly cut pastries. It looks like a cross between a bar, a cookie, and a pastry and is covered with a sweet almond glaze. Paisley takes a bite and makes one of her happy sounds.
"Yummy! Alice taste this!" she instructs, still chewing and without any further ado, she shoves the cake into my mouth, forcing me to take a bite involuntarily.
And I wasn't even saying any weird things, needing to be shut up.
"Oh! This is rather lovely!"
"Okay, Ronja, you can pay Willow to be your tutor by giving me the recipe for these Almond Crinkles. I can just imagine what Tan will be able to do with this."
I can imagine too, and I agree with her. I'm not even going to comment on how she seems to think that she has ownership over any services I may or may not render to people.
I'm about to offer access to my food to Ronja when Paisley beats me to it. Grinning happily, she holds her lunchbox out to the new girl. Something Ronja said or did gave Paisley enough confidence to act like a human being around her. Perhaps it is the lost look on the forlorn girl's face that somehow speaks to her.
Only a monster could be less than pleasant to a person with that look on her face, and someone who looks like that will most probably not have the energy or capacity to hurt others. Whatever the reason might be, Paisley is feeling safe, and that is making me very happy. Her offering her lunchbox like this is a sure sign of pending friendship; Paisley doesn't share Tanner's meatballs with just anybody.
"Come on, have some meatballs; you'll get launched straight to heaven and find your appetite there."
Ronja politely takes one of the skewers from Paisley's lunch box and tentatively opens her mouth, possibly to take a small bite from the first of the two meatballs on the toothpick. Paisley guessed right; the girl clearly doesn't have much of an appetite, which could explain her gaunt appearance.
"No!" Paisley stops her. "You have to take it all in one go to get the full effect. Go on!"
Ronja flashes uncertain eyes at me, but I smile my encouragement in full agreement with Paisley for a change. I don't think Ronja is feeling quite safe yet. I can't say that I blame her; Paisley is a whirlwind force to be reckoned with.
I was right; they form a striking contrast in appearance and personality. Paisley is sparklingly present and colourful, and Ronja is on the verge of vanishing like a beautiful but faded watercolour painting. When they are next to each other like this, Ronja's haziness reflects Paisley's vibrance, somehow making herself more visible.
I love it.
Taking a deep breath, Ronja opens her mouth properly and slips the short skewer in deep enough to drag the two small meatballs, the tiny cube of cheese and the pickle off it all at once. I watch her face change while she chews, a smile slowly spreading across her lips, instantly making her look less melancholic and ill.
"This is best balls I've ever had in my mouth," she says once she's done chewing and swallowing and while I'm politely trying very hard not to choke on some meatballs of my own, Paisley is literally rolling around on the lawn howling with laughter.
Honestly, the girl has no decency, and after being around Hunter and his friends for an entire week, I am ashamed to say that I understand why she is so amused. Her laughter is contagious, and Ronja and I are soon joining in, though with much less gusto, and Ronja mostly just looks confused.
"I used wrong words again?"
"Come on, Alice!" Paisley sniffs, wiping at her eyes. "You cannot tutor the girl; we need moments like these!"
♫
Paisley
"I brought you some of these."
Tanner has materialized under our tree and is handing me one of the lunchboxes he has in his arms. I look up in surprise to find Jake beside him, carrying a couple of folders bursting with papers. I was too busy enjoying the new weirdo that's hanging out with us to notice them invading our territory.
They're both giving Ronja surprised, wide-eyed looks. I can imagine that discovering the petite female version of Legolas here under the tree with me and Homemaker Barbie must be quite a shock to them, even more so since I am obviously communicating with the girl and there are no hair flying or angry feline howls.
"Yes, we're multiplying," I explain, and then I see the startled look on Ronja's face while she's looking up at the boys, and I want to laugh again, thinking about her odd words. "Ronja was just telling us how good it was to have your ba-"
"Where are you two off to?" Willow interrupts me. She always interrupts me when I'm trying to relay very important information to people. She is robbing the world of joy. I look at her distressed face, and I really want to finish my sentence now, but I have a lunchbox in my hands, and I'm dying to know what's in it.
I open it and am greeted by beautifully wrapped rice paper rolls neatly waiting to be devoured. Tanner really went all out on rice paper surprises for today's lunch. He never used to like rice paper much, and these rolls look downright healthy, filled with lettuce, carrots, chicken and some other herby stuff. A small dip container sits in one corner of the lunchbox, and I smell peanut butter and chilli when I take off its lid. My mouth is watering.
I don't know these rolls yet, but I am very familiar with Tanner's peanut butter and hoisin dip.
"I'm going that way," Tan says, nodding his head in the general direction of the sports grounds, which tells us absolutely nothing.
Well, he is carrying lunchboxes, so he is probably not going to meet up with some skank to make him slip deeper into depression, making him think he is climbing out of it. That's a relief. He'd been really off since Monday night, which is part of the reason why he stayed with his babysitter and his babysitter's nanny last night. I hope he didn't get in the way of their romance, but I guess he really needed Hunny.
He doesn't look depressed right now; he looks vaguely annoyed, a little disappointed, and a bit uncomfortable for some reason. I know Tan very well, and he is good at multi-tasking when it comes to hiding various emotions, but I can still see them peeking out.
"See you," he says.
"Thanks for this!" Willow calls out when he starts to move away from us, and Tanner nods at her, smiling; his smile turning a little uncertain when his eyes meet Ronja's again. Perhaps he is also struggling to figure out if she is really here or not. If he heard what she just said about his meatballs, he'd know that she was not just a smoke mirage.
In turn, Ronja looks as if she's about to evaporate and float away to go rain on someone's corn fields. Seriously! As if the weather forecast of heavy showers starting in the next couple of hours is not predicting enough rain already.
Girls tend to become all melty when my cousin starts to throw his smiles around, even when, like now, he is not even trying to be flirty or draw their attention. Ronja is taking that meltiness to an all-new level.
"I have a meeting with Doc," Jake explains his migration away from the herd at the bench. "I found some gaps in the budget for next semester's sports activities that we need to discuss and see how we can fill them. I would suggest-"
"No! No! You wouldn't suggest anything here and now. Save all your suggesting for the meeting with Doc; we don't want you to run out of suggesting energy before you reach his office!" I protest and receive a hard pluck on my braid as a reward for my insight and good advice.
Willow shares a sympathetic laugh with Jake (why is she always taking his side?), then he says goodbye, and suddenly it is only the three of us under the tree again. I look at Ronja, and she still looks close to her expiry date. She catches me, giving her suspicious looks and suddenly smiles a rather bright smile, making the sun rise from behind the rain clouds.
"You know beautiful boy very well? He is your lover?" she asks me, and I sigh, resigned to having yet another female swoon and gush over Tanner, eventually hating me when he unavoidably breaks her heart.
"Yes, but Tanner is my cousin, not my lover. You really shouldn't-"
"Men with glasses are just soooo, what is word? Dreamy? Steamy? Is there word for both together? Would that be streamy? No?"
Normally, I would laugh at her weird idea of calling hot boys streamy, but I am too completely gobsmacked even to acknowledge the fact that she's saying strange things again.
"Lord Davenport is the beautiful boy?!"
Ronja blinks at me, confused by my outburst and maybe, possibly, the title as well; who knows?
"He is a lord?" Okay, it was the title.
"Only if this person is a lady," Willow points out helpfully, and I'm a little bit offended, or I would've been if I wasn't still flabbergasted.
"Jake is my brother," I explain. "You think Jake is beautiful?!"
Ronja straightens up, looking for all the world as if she thinks I'm going to beat her up.
"I'm so sorry; I did not mean to look at your brother in lusty way..."
"Whoa, Pixiedust! Be lusty all you like. Go right ahead and look at the beautiful boy with as much lust as you want. Please sweep him up in a flood of that lust of yours, marry him and have a million Water Sprite geniuses! You'll be doing me a huge favour!"
I have no idea why the wood elf and Pollyanna are now looking at me as if I've lost my mind.
♫
Molly
This section of the bleachers is virtually always empty, probably because there's only some broken shade provided by a tree that's been close to death since Noah brought it out of the ark with him.
There are more comfortable bleachers with actual roofs on the other side of the soccer field, much closer to the buildings and the other break areas, and they are often filled with lunching students.
I don't care about the lack of full shade so much now that the sun is no longer trying to kill people since it is being chased by Autumn and struggling for its own survival. If the rain that has been threatening since early this morning finally decides just to wash us away and get on with it, there is a small, roofed area between the kiosks not too far from where I'm making myself comfortable with my phone.
I went to the bench as the Knave of Hearts instructed but saw Paisley running off with a lunchbox, and there was no sign of Willow. Though I know and like many of the boys who always gather there, I didn't feel comfortable joining them and being the only girl in their company. The last thing I want to do is to give my gossip-mongering, spiteful ex-friends more ammunition to aim at me.
I honestly don't understand their obsession with me. Am I not allowed to be happy now just because I don't want to be friends with them anymore? We've drifted apart, and our interests changed, but I never said I wanted to be enemies.
I instinctively decided to divert my route to the sports grounds and the bleachers, where I often spend break time reading in peace on my book app. I'm a little upset that I'm missing out on the healthy treats Tanner promised me, but it is probably better that I do not start sliding down that slippery slope. I was really looking forward to the food, but I'm rather freaked out to admit that I was also looking forward to hearing him say more stupid and annoying crap.
I don't want to start liking the vile bastard.
I'm hungry, though, and I think I've read this current page five times already because I'm having visions of all the food Tanner made me taste up to date. There are dumplings and meatballs and quiches floating around my head, just out of my reach. I close my eyes, imagining their tastes and textures, and it is really not doing anything to stop my stomach from growling loudly.
I'm saved from falling face-first down a spiral of hunger-induced despair by someone noisily running up the bleachers. The whole structure is vibrating and shaking rather unpleasantly. I open my eyes to find Tanner throwing himself down on the seat next to me. He really had to put in a lot of effort to be that loud and intrusive.
"Seriously?!" he is actually glaring at me. "This is the bleachers. B L EEEEEE something. The bench, BE N CH, is waaaaaaay over there. Do you need me to draw you a map or teach you all about words?"
And there it is! Stupid annoying crap.
"I went to the bench, but..."
Tanner raises his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to continue, when I suddenly feel hesitant.
"Willow and Paisley weren't there."
"What the hell does that matter?! They are not the ones who slaved away in the kitchen, making you a shitload of healthy crap to try."
He slaved away in the kitchen for me? How many girls can brag about that? I know of quite a few who would eat my liver if they heard him just now.
"Well, now that I realise that there was actual slavery involved, I'm really sorry that I didn't go to the bench, especially since I always get so excited when I hear about a shitload of crap waiting for me. Trust me, Dude, don't ever go into Sales."
Well, some people might buy edible manure from a man who looks and sounds like this prime specimen grinning at me. Even I am now revisiting my stance on shitloads of crap.
"I didn't want to be the next big event in the Briar Cove soapie," I reluctantly admit, feeling stupid. "Paisley survives all the BS stories because she's one of you. I'm just the glutton who goes there to eat stuff."
"So, that's why you ran away?" Tanner's smile has changed. He no longer looks like he is trying to charm Medusa right out of her snakes so that he can bite her. He looks almost human.
"I didn't run away!" I say indignantly, then realise that that is exactly what I did. "I just..." I can't think of anything to replace the words run and away with, so I say nothing more.
"You left a dust storm in your wake, Brunhilda. I actually saw some plants wither and die in that dust."
"Is that your way of comparing me with a stampeding elephant?" I'm trying to think of an example, but I don't actually remember Tanner ever using cruel words to be mean to someone. He is much more subtle. He uses sound effects and weird-ass I'm-gonna-die dance moves to hurt people's feelings. Besides, the only elephant names I can think of are Nellie and Dumbo; no Brunhilda comes to mind.
"More like a speeding bike," he says and then he shrugs. "Look, I think Willow is pissed off with Hunter, so I doubt we'll be able to get them to come to the bench today, but if their presence is required for you to be comfortable with tasting my food, then we can go to them now. I know where they are."
I'm still stuck on the fact that I've never been compared to a speeding bike before and that there's not a brand named Brunhilda. Has he ever actually seen me run? I'm starting to grin like an idiot, and it is making me feel really uncomfortable.
"Why is this so important to you?" I decide just to ask him straight out. If his answer means that I'm not going to find out what he has in those lunchboxes, so... (sob)... be... (sob)... it. "Why are you doing this? Is it some elaborate prank to make a fool of me?"
Tanner looks at me as if I just spoke to him in Greek. I didn't. The only foreign language I'm somewhat proficient in is Japanese, and I don't see much point in speaking to him in Japanese. Perhaps I should, just to get him to stop looking at me like this. He'll probably still look at me then, but it will be different.
"Yeah," he scoffs. "I'm pranking you by feeding you some nice food." He rubs a hand through his hair and is looking mildly irritated now. Wow, even mildly irritated Tanner is seriously hot! "What the hell, Granger? Why do you constantly assume that everybody is out to hurt you in some way?"
What am I supposed to answer to that? Experience?
I've been hurt plenty, and not by strangers, usually by people I knew and trusted. We can place my dad right at the top of that pyramid. He actually tried to fight my mum for custody of the dog. He didn't even try to take me with him when he decided that the burdens of married life were too much for him. Well, I guess that's because I was the main burden. A heavy one.
"I'm not trying to prank you or hurt you or whatever you think I'm doing. Just see it as a scientific experiment."
"I'm a science experiment?" I exclaim. "Oh, yes! Thank you! That is so much better!"
"Not you, Dumbass!" Tanner rubs his hand through his hair again and gives me a frustrated look. "I like cooking," he finally says, suddenly looking almost bashful.
"You don't say!" I grin. I'm actually feeling a little vulnerable right now, waiting to hear the punchline, but I'm grinning. Tanner is making me experience emotional dystocia, and I'm not even in labour.
"Shut up," he is grinning too. "You were able to taste Tamarind in a mixture of other flavours. Do you have any idea how rare that is? All the others are just always telling me the food tastes good, and that's great; I'm glad they like it.
"But what I really need is for them to tell me why they like it and not just: Because it's yummy. I want to know what they're tasting and what they're not tasting, and how it makes them feel when they taste it. You know? That kind of thing. It helps me come up with new ideas."
I think I know... slightly.
"You tell me those things. You give me actual feedback. None of them even know what Tamarind is. You know what Tamarind is!"
He sighs and hangs his head, looking so miserable that I'm about to offer to teach his horribly ignorant friends all about Tamarind. I don't, though, because he raises his head to look at me again, and his eyes have gone translucent on me; his pupils are tiny black spheres in a sea of shattered glass.
"If helping me with this makes you uncomfortable, I'll just leave the food here, and you can eat it by yourself. If... if you don't mind, you can send me a message with your thoughts and suggestions. I won't bug you again."
I don't think I've ever seen Tanner look like this before. I should be pleased, right? The guy broke my heart, after all. Yeah, it was six years ago, and he probably doesn't even remember, but it left a massive dent. Still, I don't feel pleased seeing him look insecure and rejected.
I friggin' want to hug the arsehole now!
However, he recovers in a split second, his smile once again as dazzling as his multi-faceted diamond eyes.
"I did some research and tried to make some healthy shit for you. If you don't want to eat it, that's fine too. I won't beg you to eat my shit."
I make a face at him, shaking my head. "Seriously, Dude, you need to stop referring to your food as shit. For some reason thinking of food in its final format after digestion does not stimulate my appetite at all."
Tanner chuckles and starts to get to his feet, ready to leave the food with me and go, whether I'm going to eat it or not.
"So, what kind of healthy things did you make? Show me!" I order, and I really like the sweet little boy smile that is sneaking onto his face now. He sits back down and starts to take off lids and explain things, and I'm trying hard to listen, but I'm under attack by rich and wonderful aromas of herbs and spices and fairy breath.
It is a feeding frenzy at the aquarium; the sharks are... actually doing bugger all. Feeding time at the aquarium turned out to not be worth the hype at all...
It is a feeding frenzy on the steel bleachers at Briar High, and Tanner is putting things into my mouth that he swears are healthy, but my tongue is calling him a liar, and my stomach is breaking out in applause.
"I didn't know you knew my mother," I observe, watching the watery sunlight paint golden streaks in his hair while I digest and process the last ecstasy-inducing morsel that passed over my happy tongue.
"I didn't know I knew your mother. To me, she has always been Sister Nell, the Head ER Nurse whose bad-ass jokes keep me laughing while she puts in an IV line, which makes her the only one who can put in my IV without me passing out."
I don't want to think of him lying helpless and injured, getting an IV hooked up to his arm. The image that comes to mind is simply too sad to handle. Why does he take part in activities that cause him so much pain?
"She certainly has an arsenal of really suspect jokes," I laugh, hiding my face, not wanting him to see the sadness suddenly overwhelming me for some strange reason. "Why did you make my mum soup if you didn't know who she was?"
"You said she worked too hard, and she's tired all the time."
"But you didn't know her."
Tanner gives me one of those looks I always give my mother when she is being obtuse on purpose. I'm not being obtuse on purpose; I'm being obtuse spontaneously; I do not deserve that look.
"So... I'm only allowed to make soup for people I know? Are you besties with all the chefs whose food you've ever eaten?"
"No, but I usually pay them..."
"Believe me, Girl, you can't afford me," he grins.
"I just want your food, Tanner; I don't need to be able to afford you."
His expression suddenly sobers, and he stares at me as if I've struck him. I laugh a little nervously and pick up a small container he was constantly pushing to one side.
"Golly, Mr God's-Gift-To-Women! What's that look about? Are you really that horrified to be turned down by a mere mortal girl, especially one of my lowly status?"
His grim expression softens, and he is grinning again. "How can you be lowly? Aren't you, Merida, the Scottish princess?"
"Seriously, Dude, what is your fascination with this animated chick?"
He chuckles, reaching out to pull on one of my gazillion red curls fighting to break out of confinement. "She made a huge impression on me."
The way he is looking at me now is making me feel queasy. I've just eaten... lots. He helped, but I scarfed down most of the food. He mustn't sit here looking at me in a way that melts my insides. My stomach is full; if my intestines turn to liquid now, stuff might leak out everywhere. It's not a pretty thought.
"What are those?" I ask, pointing at the small rice paper pockets in the container to distract him... and myself. They seem to be filled with a light green substance.
"Dessert," Tanner says, and he pulls a face that doesn't invoke feelings of joy and euphoria at all. "It was an experiment, but it's a bit of a flop."
I take one and pop it into my mouth. The rice paper is vaguely chewy, and then it evaporates, and suddenly, I have a mouth full of goop that is not quite sloppy but not quite a jelly either; it also has a bit of a slimy component to it. I'm starting to look around for one of those serviettes he gave me earlier to wipe dip off my nose.
I need to spit out this goo!
But suddenly, the texture changes as certain components dissolve and others bind together, and then the taste hits me.
"Oh, goopy dingbats, Tanner! What the hell is this?! I don't know if I want to laugh, cry, vomit or just..." I see the look on his face and sit up straight, realising that I've slid down until only my tailbone is precariously supporting me on the edge of my seat. It is a looooooong tumble to the bottom of the bleachers; I should rather not play with my health insurance like this.
"What the hell is a goopy dingbat?"
"Dunno," I admit. "Probably that," I say, pointing at another of the weird little pouches. "It's pretty gross."
"I'm sorry, you're right, it's disgusting," he actually looks despondent for a second, but then he chuckles, and I'm wondering if it was a prank.
"Only because it's like eating seriously tasty snot," I try to console him or tease him... or both.
Tanner looks up from his feet, really laughing now.
"I'm serious. This could be awesome if you can change the texture and maybe not stuff it in gelatinous rice paper." I pop another one into my mouth, cringing, waiting for the ick-factor to dissipate so that I can get to the yum-factor again. "I love the minty freshness with the tang of lemon," I tell him in all sincerity, "and what did you sweeten it with? Watermelon?"
"Grapes." Frowning at me a little, Tanner puts one in his mouth, pulling a cute face while he chews past the gross phase. "I would actually want to get rid of the gelatine, keep it more liquid and eat it with ice cream, but then it won't be healthy anymore."
"Oh! Stuff healthy! Now, you're just trying to turn me into a total food slut!" I laugh, thinking about a big bowl of vanilla ice cream smothered in the refreshing sauce this goop has the potential to become.
"What?!" Tanner laughs, gathering the empty containers together and placing the smaller ones inside the slightly bigger one.
"I find it a little annoying that even your flops taste this friggin' good."
When the first big raindrop hits me in the cheek, I'm at first convinced that Tanner spat at me, but then another one splashes on me, and another and another. I help Tanner get the remaining lunchboxes into the bigger one, and we hastily start to descend from the increasingly wet and slippery bleachers.
Well, Tanner is making haste; I'm mostly preparing for a big fall, slipping, sliding and generally struggling to get from level to level... we're in too much of a hurry to cross to where there are actual steps down to the ground that now seems awfully far below us.
Tanner stops a few levels below me and looks back at where I'm daintily - like a rhinoceros in socks - struggling along.
I swear, what is happening now is going down like a slow-motion action scene from a war rescue movie. Tanner runs back up as if he's skipping on level ground. He Stops at the level below mine, reaches back with his empty hand and plucks me off balance and onto his back.
I'm still trying to form the words: "Are you mad? You're gonna die!" But he is already leaping from level to level, so I change my protest mid-sentence and am still screaming, "You can't bleacher-jump with a whale on your friggin' back, you moron!" When we reach the bottom, and he drops me to my feet. What can I do? I simply end my sentence somewhere between the words friggin' and moron with: "Thank you."
Seriously, how is it possible for someone this pretty to be so freakishly strong?
Tanner laughs at me and grabs my wrist to drag me along, but he is going the wrong way to get out of the rain fast, so I strain in the opposite direction and slip because we're on level ground now, so I took off those socks and thought I was being a walking rhino now.
I was wrong.
Tanner slips too, but he rights himself and grabs me, and after a startled heartbeat, we jump apart because for a second there, my skirt wasn't where it was supposed to be, and his hand was on my bum... and we have an audience.
They're not close enough for me to gauge their reaction, and it's raining too hard for me to hear if they're saying stuff; besides, my glasses are covered in rain, and I'm basically blind now, so I also don't know whether Tanner noticed the accidental erotica we've just taken part in.
He simply grabs my hand and drags me in the direction I was trying to aim for so nimbly. He must've seen the small section of shelter I had in mind because he takes me there and pushes me into the corner space where the roofs of two stalls join together. These kiosks are used for the sale of refreshments during sporting events.
"This space is not big enough for both of us. You're getting wet," I point out. He might think I'm breathless from the bleacher hopping and the running through the rain, but he would be wrong. I'm breathless because I'm squashed into a small space, and Tanner is a wall between me and the rain, his eyes staring into mine, unreadable and dark.
Is this what it feels like to be seduced by the god of high school?
Fresh drops gathering in his hair, dripping from the edges of his fringe, bring the reality to me that Tanner isn't just not fitting into the space with me; he is actively blocking me from getting rained on.
"It's okay; I can do with a cold shower," he grins, and my knees are about to collapse beneath me.
Just what is your deal, Tanner Trent?
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