"Holden, did you send me a picture of your dick?" Michael calls through the closed bathroom door. I spit my toothpaste out onto the mirror and open the door.
"Michael, why the hell would I send you a picture of my genitalia?" I yell back, yanking open the door, wiping my mouth with a towel.
"Well, then how do you explain this?" Michael wails, shoving the phone with my supposed penis into my face.
"Dude, what the hell?" I shout, pushing the device out of my way.
"You have to help me! Someone sent me a picture of their private parts and I must find the culprit!" Michael says, pacing the room.
"Okay, just give me the phone," I sigh, holding out my hand in anticipation.
"Are you sure, Holden?" he asks warily, taking cautious steps before me. "Because this is some serious stuff."
"Just give me the damn phone, Michael."
"Okay, your funeral, man," Michael says, handing over the phone.
"Michael, I think you're forgetting that I actually see this piece of male anatomy attached to myself everyday. It's not the end of the world," I answer, taking the phone. I take a look at the unknown number and then at the picture.
"So, Watson? Any discoveries?" Michael asks impatiently as he taps his foot.
"Do you have Autumn's number?" I cut in.
Michael scoffs and flips his nonexistent long hair over his shoulder. "I'm an independent woman! The only four contacts I have are you, June, and my parents. I don't need no other!"
"If you ever shut up, I would've been able to tell you earlier that this picture of a supposed penis is a sausage on a pan. And Autumn sent it."
"What?" he gasps, a hand at his chest, wounded. "What have I ever done to her?" he cries out, scandalized.
"I don't know, but you can't ask her at lunch, she isn't going to be there, she has art club. Ask her tonight at bowling," I respond, shoving my books into my backpack.
Michael's taken aback expression is quickly replaced with a glinting mischievous one. "Now, now, Holden, how do you know that?"
"If you think logically, which obviously you don't when you're with June, you would know that there's an obnoxious amount of times that you and June are off in your own world and the only person I have left to talk to is Autumn, who's too shy to say anything about anything but her schedule. Surprise, surprise," I sarcastically retort, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Besides, who do you think I am, Michael? I've known her for 3 3/4 days, hardly enough time to develop a crush."
"Well, you know what they say about love at first sight," he winks.
"Actually, I do know," I say, holding up a finger to rebuff.
"No! No, please, no, anything but your stupid research rants. Please stop. No, I'm going to cry! HOLDEN!" he exclaims, making my smirk grow wider.
"According to a survey of 5,000 individuals, ages 21-70, researchers discovered that 41% of all men and 29% of all women have experienced love at first sight. More men experience love at first sight, which makes your previous assumption understandable, because they are more visually oriented. Women are more cautious because they are the carriers of the egg. That's what you meant, right?"
"Ugh, you're a lost cause," Michael groans.
"Aren't we all?"
**
"Spare! Suck it, losers!" Michael screams, earning himself a dirty glare from one of the workers in the empty alley.
"What happened to the application of math in the real world?" Autumn whispers, elbowing me in my bony ribs.
"Hey! That was rude," I counter indignantly, after which her face falls, making me feel guilty although she was the one who elbowed me in the first place. "And, well, my skills may not be that well translated in the real world," I add to make her feel better. Even though I really don't care.
June points at the significantly different numbers on our scoreboard and proceeds to execute her victory dance with Michael.
"You owe us burgers now! Losers!" she cries out, holding an L up on her forehead.
"Okay, okay, hold on," I say, trying to pull out my wallet. Which isn't in my pockets. I end up pulling out a couple pieces of lint and a tiny troll. "Michael, what have I told you about putting your McDonald's toys in my jeans?"
"Nothing so far, boss," he teases, and in response I throw the troll at him.
"Keep these demon trolls out of my fucking pockets, Terrence," I say as he fumbles to catch the troll.
"Shit, I left my wallet at the dorm." I turn apologetically (or as apologetically as I physically can be) to Autumn. "Any chance you wanna take the entire cost and I'll pay you back my half later."
"Yeah, sure, I guess." She starts to pull out her phone from her bag and June squeals.
"Autumn! You're going to exchange your phone for our burgers because you don't have any money? You're too good of a friend!" June cries out. Autumn's eyebrows furrow and she gives June a puzzled look.
"No, my wallet is under my phone," she says, as if June's crazy. Which she is. It's definitely up for debate.
"Oh, well. That's cool...because you're losers!" June taunts.
"Okay, we get it. You guys rule, we drool. Whatever," I say, hopping up on to the red seat at a table.
June giggles, "He said drool. Drool is such a funny word. Holden is such a not funny person. Which makes drool coming from him hilarious."
"Good lord, will you just shut up?" I say, running a hand through my hair. Michael flips open the menu next to me as the grumpy worker from earlier walks up.
"That's funny, that's what I was thinking about all of you earlier," the worker, identified as Tiffany, says, approaching to our table. She snaps her gum loudly and flips her blonde hair.
Michael, ever the cheerful one, shoots her a wide smile, trying very hard to be genuine. "Hi, Tiffany. May I please have a cheeseburger with everything on it and if you could add bacon, that would be great! Also, some fries for the whole table and four ICEEs."
"Rich Ridgeview nerds," she mutters under her breath. I roll my eyes and get ready to ream her out.
"Okay, Tiffany, I don't understand why you're in such a bad mood, unless this is how you are regularly, in which case, I shouldn't even try reasoning with you. But, I'll go ahead anyway. You're throwing an unreasonable temper tantrum because of your not very well-hidden insecurities about the amount of money you have and your IQ. So if you could stop getting so offended by our very existence because you obviously don't match up in either financial status or intelligent quotient, that would be great!" I finish perkily.
She glares at me for a few silent seconds and then Autumn chimes in quietly.
"You know, I would enjoy a plain hamburger, just ketchup. Thanks."
Tiffany nods imperceptibly and stalks away. "Pretentious pricks," she mutters.
"She didn't even ask for my order," I say, pretending to be offended, ignoring her alliteration of an insult. June laughs and for the first time in a while, I've lightened the mood.
"Hey, do you guys want to play Marvelous Mixtures?" Michael asks, excitedly.
"No. No way in hell am I playing that Satanic game. You're crazy if you think you can make me play that again," I refuse.
Michael turns to Autumn and begins to explain the worst game ever created. "Marvelous Mixtures is a wonderful game that June and I created. You mix every edible thing in the room, one ingredient per person, and then as those rounds continue, the amount of edible things in the room begin to deplete and whoever is stuck and has nothing to add, has to drink the mixture. Wanna play?"
"Um...," Autumn trails off.
"I'm not playing if it makes you feel any better," I offer. I don't know why I am, she should just learn not to.
"Yeah, then I guess I'll just sit this one out," she says, the relief tangible in her voice. I was kind of looking forward to seeing her get all flustered.
"You two boring people can go sit over there while Michael and I enjoy a wonderful game of Marvelous Mixtures," June tells us.
"Gladly," I say, already getting up from my seat with Autumn following suit.
"Have tons of fun being boring," June calls out.
"We will," I say, flipping them off. Autumn and I end up sitting at a tiny circle table with chairs on two different sides. Get it? Because circles don't have sides. Or rather opposite each other. She props herself up on the bar under the chair and leans her head on her hand and fiddles with something on her jeans. I start counting in my head.
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987, 1597, 2584, 4181, 676-
"Do you want to play the question game?" Autumn offers in our silence.
Despite my reluctance to interact with anyone, I relent because she's new and I really don't have anything better to do. "Sure, why the hell not?"
______________
A/N- wow- that was horrible updating on my part. I had a much longer version of this written but I don't know what happened to it because it no longer existed on Wattpad. Totally my fault- sorry!
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please, please, please comment, vote, share, and add to your libraries!