"How long has he been asleep?"
"Nobody knows, Phil."
"I say we poke him."
"If you want to make him hate you, be my guest."
"I just wanna play cards," Phil moaned loudly, causing Barry to flinch a little in his sleep. His snoring took a short pause before the thunder boomed once again out of his throat.
"Your funeral," I muttered, sprawling back against the couch in my father's enormous house. We'd just gotten back and Barry had slept most the trip and into the house. Phil was itching for his partner in crime while I ruthlessly teased the heck out of him.
"I'm already on my death bed," he cried, flopping down in the couch pillows. One of the pillows looked as though it might explode any second and I couldn't help but giggle.
"Text Ivory, you whiner," I suggested. "She needs to talk to her Philsbury Dough Boy."
Phil sent me a nasty glare. "Very funny."
I erupted into a fit of laughter at my nickname for him. It had just come to me and it had to be the funniest thing I'd ever called any of them.
Suddenly, Barry's booming snore cut off in the midst of my giggles and his eyes popped open. I gave Phil a horrified look; Barry was a beast when he got woken up from his naps, the type of beast you might as well wish death upon yourself before they get ahold of you.
"Now you've done it!"
"RUN!!!" I screamed, leaping over the back of the couch and making a sprint for the door. Phil was hot on my tracks as Barry's eyes ignited in flames.
"You two are so dead!!" he hollered. Oh please, heaven above, please save us before we become Barry Stew.
"Where should we go?" Phil panicked as Barry's shaking steps came closer to us. He was a speedy runner and Phil was surely dead; he didn't have advantages like I did.
"I don't know!" I hissed.
"Use your powers, genius, and get us the heck out of here before both of us become dinner!"
"Wanna hide in the cellar?"
"NOW!"
Poof.
Phil and I found ourselves in the dark cellar, a place Barry wasn't going to find us if we remained quiet. I was breathing so heavily I felt like my brain was going to pound itself through my head. Phil sat on the ground and tried to regain his breath while I bent over and rested my upper body on my knees.
"You owe me."
"Shut up," I whispered back, trying to not make much noise with my lungs squeezing for air. Thankfully Barry's senses were duller than the average human's, but you never knew just how willing he was to punish us for waking him up; his persistance often shocked me.
We sat there for a few minutes and let our lungs fill back up with oxygen rich air. I could have run a marathon and still not have been as out of breath.
That's when our luck decided to end our lives.
My cell phone ringtone bounced off the cement walls of the cellar, making both of us jump out our skins in surprise. I dug it out quickly, checking it out and silencing it while we both hoped we weren't dead meat.
"Hello?" I answered in a whisper, holding the phone close to my ear.
"Why are you whispering?"
"My life will end if I don't."
"WHAT?!"
"Calm down, Ollie," I said. "I'm kidding. I'm just hiding from my dad's employee. He's mad at me."
"Oh, okay, phew! Don't scare me like that again, pretty girl," he breathed. Phil relaxed by my side and I sat next to him in the corner furthest from the cellar door.
"I'm sorry," I laughed softly. "So why are you calling?"
"Just wanted to check up on my best friend," he said and I could swear I heard fabric moving in a shrugging type of way. I furrowed my eyebrows but accepted it.
"You sure?"
"And I wanted to ask you on a date as well," he added shyly. "Prom was last week and even though I took Adrianna, which was okay, I still wish I could have taken you. I was wondering if we could have our own little dance together and reinact prom in a personal sort of way. Just me and you."
My heart started to prance like a galloping pony. He wanted to take me on a date? He wanted our own dance? My heart swelled at how sweet that sounded. He came up with the idea...for me?
"Jeez, I don't even know what to say," I stuttered a little with each of my words. "When?"
"How about this Sat- OW! What the freak?"
"What's wrong?" I asked, panicking a little. My right ear could be deaf after that holler, I swear.
"Oh, er-nothing. Stubbed my toe," he said casually.
"Well alright. So when?"
"How about Thursday night, so like in two days?"
"I have to talk to my father, but if he says yes then I'd love to!" I said just a little too loudly. Phil slapped my knee, reminding me that if I didn't keep my voice down, we'd end up dead for sure.
"Sweet! Dress warmly."
"Warmly? Why?"
"It's spring, silly."
"So? I'm gonna be wearing a huge dress that will keep me warm."
"Okay, okay. Just dress however but I hope to see you then, okay?"
"Sounds great," I shivered in excitement. Awkward...what was wrong with me.
"See you then, babe," he said sweetly before he hung up. I sighed dreamily and Phil slapped me again.
"Hush, pimp!"
"Sorry, Mother."
We sat down there for a few hours waiting for our lives to end. Finally after a couple of hours listening to our stomachs beg for food, we got the courage to get up and slowly tiptoe toward the door. I went first and slowly creeped it open, sliding through the small entrance and helping Phil slip out as well. We stood upright and begin walking toward the kitchen.
"I'm so hungry I could eat a horse," Phil grimaced. "Barry is such a butt."
"Barry looked hungry enough to eat us both," I shivered. "After all he is 'Bear-y'."
"Very funny," Phil gave me a curtesy laugh as we popped open the fridge near the garage. Soda? No other foods? Shoot us both now....
"You know, this is really bad," I bit my lip as Phil cracked open a can of Pepsi. "Like super terrible."
"Nah," he said before sucking up some of the sticky fizz that bubbled out of the open seal. "It's not that bad."
"Phil, we have to go upstairs to the dining room where Barry surely is gulping up my dad!"
"Your dad didn't wake me up though," a new voice snarked from behind me. I felt my hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight and my whole body shivered. Oh. Crap.
"Barry, no, it was Phil!" I started yelling. I felt his hands grab my waist and throw me over his shoulder, holding tightly on to me as he led me off to my most certain death.
"Ah ha," Phil winked, taking a sip of his soda. "Bye, Alleah!"
"You're next, pretty boy," Barry cackled before he entered the elevator. This was sort of like how I'd always imagined Zemlicka kidnapping me, but just not as deadly.
"BARRY!" I screamed in the elevator. "PUT ME DOWN YOU JERK!"
"You're my dinner, my lovely," he said. "I cannot let such a pretty supper go."
"It was Phil!" I protested. "He said he was gonna poke you! But I called him a funny name and laughed!"
"Lies," he grinned evilly, exiting the elevator to our dining room area. My father was at the table busily reading the newspaper with his glass of milk to the side of the counter.
"I'm not lying!" I promised, kicking and screaming like a mad woman.
"Hey, kids," my father grinned, waving. "Having fun?"
"NO!"
"Yes, boss," Barry waggled his eyebrows awkwardly and set me in a chair. He pulled out duct tape and got to work.
"No! Anything but this!" I hollered, fighting him vigorously. "You can't do this!"
"Anything?" he stopped. "Anything else?"
"YES!"
Never tell a guy that. Especially one who wants revenge.
Next thing I knew, I was duct taped three feet up the wall and Barry was laughing his butt off.
"Be right back," he hooted. "I need to go get Phil and then it's punishment time!"
"But Barry!" I cried but he was already gone. My father was giving me a crazy look and raising his eyebrow.
"What?"
"You let him get you? When he said he was gonna get you I thought he was full of it."
"Dad, I woke him up from his nap! He's on a freaking rampage!"
"Good luck, my dear," he chuckled. I gave him a blank look and sighed, waiting for Barry to bring Phil up.
"No I don't want you to do that to me! I just bought this shirt and I will not have you ruining it!" Phil's cries blew through the elevator and my dad chuckled.
"Sometimes I wonder about Phil," he said.
"Why?"
"You're such a sissy!" Barry hollered back. "You care about your shirt more than you care about your face. Be a man!"
"Bingo," my father chuckled, taking a sip of water from his glass. The elevator door opened and Barry and Phil came wrestling through the door. Barry was definitely winning this war.
"Brent, help me!" Phil bawled. "I don't want to be paintballed!"
"No can do," my father smirked and I just gave him a blank state as I hung from the wall. Whatever Barry was planning could not be good. My stomach twisted nervously.
After screams and shrinks of struggle, Phil was taped right next to me....upside down. Barry slowly got out his weapon of mass destruction and giggled, loading it will a bunch of colored balls.
"You two ready for some fun?" he grinned evilly. I gave him a digusted look while Phil anxiously shook his head.
"Please, Barry," he cried. "Anything. It wasn't me. I'll take you to Dairy Queen and buy you shakes and blizzards and anything else you want!"
"How many?" Barry yawned, looking very bored.
"Twelve."
"Fourty!"
"I don't have that kind of money!"
"Then prepare to die," Barry said. Phil gave him a devilish eye and sighed.
"But what about Brent's wall?"
"Alleah can fix it."
"Nah, you can do it," I stuck my tongue out at him and he glared.
"Whatever. Time for some fun, children!"
"YAY!" I squealed as he loaded the paintball gun. Phil scrunched up his nose at me and turned his head, closing his eyes.
"Oh please help us," Phil begged.
"You don't want to get colorful?"
"I don't think you quite realize what a paintball gun feels like."
The sad thing is he was right. It was definitely not a very fun experience. It hurt. When Barry finally let us free from the itchy tape, I felt like I'd been beaten with a bat. What kind of gun had he been using?
As soon as I got down I collapsed to the floor and so did Phil. Barry cackled one more time and hit the elevator with his machine, leaving Phil and I to gather back our strength.
"He is so dead," I panted as I tried to get up. My body ached badly and Phil looked dead as well.
"He's so violent," Phil muttered. "I say we get him back."
"But I need to get ready for my date."
"Your date?"
"Yeah, I'm going on a date with my friend Oliver."
"When?"
"Thursday."
"Oh okay. Well I'm going to go shower. You can," he sighed, taking a painful step, "talk to your father."
He left and I slowly got off the floor.
"Dad?"
"Yes, sweetie?" he called from his office room on the dining level.
"I need to ask you something."
"What is it?"
"My friend Oliver was wondering if I could go on a date with him Thursday night. Would that be okay?"
"Where?"
"His house."
He paused and thought for a minute. I crossed my fingers and hoped that he would give in. I was so sad I had missed prom and this would be a fabulous make up time for it. If he didn't give in I would be majorly disappointed.
"Okay, but we need to set some terms with him because you know that makes me very nervous."
"Yes, I know. I promise I'll be careful."
"Need help with any of it?"
"I've got it. Thanks though, Dad."
"Anytime, sweatheart. Are you okay? Why don't you go take a shower," he suggested. "Then you can worry about the date."
"Alright," I agreed. "Thanks so much, Dad."
"Sure thing," he winked. I smiled at him before I left and headed toward my bedroom. My excitement was out the roof. I was going to have to make a dress and make some cute shoes.
Taking out my phone, I dialed Oliver's number and held it up to my ear. He answered almost immediately and I couldn't help but smile. My best friend was the cutest.
"Hello, gorgeous," he answered. "What's up?"
"I have good news, Ollie," I grinned happily.
"Which is?"
"We're on for Thursday."