CHAPTER SEVEN: I Watched Him Strip
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"Private lessons for ballet? My son, your manliness has decreased by tenfold." My dad jokes as I get dressed into my somewhat tight black stockings. I run through my thoughts, trying to come up with the wittiest response I can think of while pulling on my tights. The material slides over my legs like a second skin, and to be frank, it doesn't leave much to the imagination, if you get my drift.
"Says the man who wore a bright purple headband." I counter, examining myself in the mirror. I wink at myself in the large, floor to ceiling window in one of the bathrooms. My father groans at my actions, and I roll my eyes at him. There's nothing wrong with appreciating yourself once in awhile.
"Purple is the color of royalty, and it seems to make me appear ten years younger. Do you disagree?" He questions, a corner of his mouth drawing up in a smile as he straightens his posture on the toilet seat.
No, contrary to what you must be thinking at the moment, my dad is certainly not taking a crap while I go through a round of self-appreciation in the mirror. That's just nasty. I pulled him out of the dining room, despite his protests of "My pasta will burn!" because I could honestly use a bit of a pep-talk.
"I do disagree. Not attaching colors to genders or anything, but a purple that bright is best left for the women. Why not a deep purple?" I ask, sliding a crisp white t-shirt over my head. I frown at the result; it messed my hair up. Maybe girls like the whole I didn't fix my hair look though.
"Because it's too dark! Why are men constricted to wearing dull, boring, dark colors? What if I want to step out of the house wearing a flowered pink t-shirt?"
"Then perhaps you should re-think it. I doubt Mother would leave the palace in a pink flowered t-shirt. No, I doubt Mom would even have that thought." I reply, turning away from the mirror to face my Dad, as I lean on the polished marble counter top. "What do you think?"
"I think that my lasagna is burning.' He frowns, but breaks into a grin at the sight of my annoyed expression. "Kidding, kidding, yeesh. Teenagers nowadays!"
"Dude, I'm going to go do stuff with two rather attractive ladies. What the frick do I do?" I ask, looking away from his teasing eyes.
"Oh Xander, do you yourself even know how... dirty that sounded?" He asks, his eyes twinkling with amusement as I struggle to understand something that I obviously should know. I mean, I'm the teenager in this partnership, right?
Fuck, I'm doubting myself. I shouldn't be doubting myself, right?
There I go again, asking myself for confirmation.
"Uh, Dad, get your mind out of the gutter, please and thank you. And you still haven't answered my question!" I reply, hoping the rising heat in my cheeks isn't visible under the prying eyes of Dad.
"Well son, back in my day, I courted your mother with pigs!" He announces, leaning forward to me, as I tilt my head at him, furrowing my eyebrows.
"What?"
"You know, eight silver candelabras, five pigs, nine chickens, a partridge in a pear tree..." He trails off, as I let out a sigh, exasperated. Sometimes he acts more like a child than I do.
"Could you be serious for once?" I ask, running my hands through my already messy hair. He cocks a head at me, furrowing his brows. Did I just ask for him to be serious?
"I dunno, I was a devilishly handsome prince. Women gravitated towards me, not I them. Unfortunately, neither of these girls know you're a prince, and while you're fairly okay looking, you certainly didn't inherit my features." He says, stroking his stubble while raking his eyes over me. "Yeah, you really didn't."
And thank the heavens for that. Mom is more beautiful than my Dad is handsome - though he'll never admit it.
And you wonder where I got my ego from?
"So, just try not to... repulse them, and you'll do fine!" He gets up, straightening to his full height - just slightly taller than me, and claps his hand on my back. I straighten instantly, a natural reflex I've developed over the years. He would always place a hand on my back; not hitting me, just placing a hand on my back until I straightened up.
"Make me proud, Xander." He says in a solemn tone giving me a sad smile, making shivers run up my spine, as he exits the bathroom, his black, leather dress shoes leaving heavy thuds with every step.
Why do I have the feeling that he meant it in a more serious manner; not just talking about charming a couple teenagers? I turn to look at myself in the mirror, sitting on the polished counter top. I simply sit for a few minutes, my deep blue eyes staring back at me blankly.
What am I doing?
Do I really want to turn into a mega flirt? Do I want to be the kind of teenager that goes to parties, gets wasted and can barely remember the thing that I did the night before? I know I came to Wellingtons for a break, but... I don't know, it might be the way my Dad looked at me, with sad eyes, as if he knew I'd do something bad. Something that would make him hang his head in shame.
Argh, is this some sort of subliminal message? Is he tricking me? This has to have some sort of mind-fuckery. It has to be.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts, and slide off of the counter top. The bright white walls and the faint fragrance of vanilla must be getting to me; it's too much like the time-out room that Mom put me in, back home in the castle. That must be it.
I turn the knob to the bathroom, reassuring myself with some ego-boosting strategies, but when I step out of the room my heart drops and I feel a vague sense of melancholy.
I shrug it off and close the door.
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It wasn't half as frightening as I thought it would be.
Turns out, we spent the whole hour and a half watching Dianca dance as Odette. Man, as boring as it was, it was really awesome to have two girls sitting beside me, leaning on my shoulder as they wept their eyes out.
Okay, maybe that's another con. The whole tears and mascara thing made them both look, not to be rude or anything, kind of scary. Like the dead zombie girl sort of scary.
Eh, that was alright with me. I mean, aren't undead chicks the coolest?
Right up until they begin to claw at your head, demanding brains and other sorts of vital organs to possibly feast on. But I guess it's no different from what most girls demand from men.
"Dude!" Cameron hisses, ruffling the leafy bush, turning his smoldering gaze to me. The olive colored leaves stuck in his hair; combined with his ebony gaze makes him look like the world's most serious lumberjack. "Are you even listening?"
I choose to reply with a firm nod, as we skirt around the gardens. A cool breeze ruffles the impeccably shaped hedge, prickling my cheeks with the ends of the leaves. My back itches from the scratchy material of the woolen ninja suit that Cameron insisted we wear, and my legs are sore from holding a squatting position for so long. If someone saw us, they'd probably guess that we were doing our business in Cam's backyard.
"Okay, here's the tricky part. In that clump of Japanese cherry blossoms, no, the ones with the disgustingly pink petals. The one to the left. Your other left." He says as purse my lips in frustration. Well sorry if I don't know what the heck a Japanese cherry blossom tree looks like.
You should still know the difference between right and left. My subconscious argues.
Shut up, you don't know anything. I counter back, and it stays silent.
Xander - 1
Xander's Subconscious - 0
I congratulate myself on my victory over... myself, when I realize Cameron's still blabbering on about the plan. Whoops.
"So you either roll into a thicket of rose bushes, barbed wire or the secret port hole that will lead us to the manhole. Do you want to go first or me?" He asks, and I stare at him for awhile. "You didn't catch anything I just said, did you?"
"Sorry?" I say, giving him the puppy eyes. My expression must be pretty convincing, as he noticeably softens. Puppy eyes work on everyone, except, of course, puppies.
"Barbed wire on the left of the cherry blossoms. A thicket of rose bushes in the center. So you have to roll in a perfect diagonal line or you're screwed. Did I mention you have to do this fast since my Dad is about to go on his nightly patrol? And he runs this friggin patrol, which makes us extra fucked over. You first." He says, unceremoniously shoving me out of the cover of the plants.
The moonlight casts an eerie light over the backyard, combined with the breeze sending shivers up my spine every so often makes my heart race in fear. This is way too much like those horrific zombie movies I've watched. But if I'm going to get killed by sobbing undead girls, they better be hot.
I tuck in my body, hands on my head as I prepare for the roll. This is definitely not a night where I'd like for my cushioned bottom, (did I mention the ninja suits came with pillowy-bottoms? No wonder why Cam's sketches included the large, somewhat saggy bums), anyways, I'd prefer for me and my saggy bum to do a nice ninja roll and to avoid the prickly rose bushes.
I hurl myself forwards, and I think I rolled myself in the path of a slug, but I don't even have time to think about that since -
"AHHHH!" I yell, as I find myself tumbling down a metal slide-like tube. As my heart nearly leaps out of my chest, I drop like a rock onto the cement down below, leaving a stinging pain in my legs, which fortunately, went first.
I rub them for a second, nurturing what must be bruises, while examining the interior of a, surprisingly enough, clean crawl space. The stone is clean enough, specs of dirt here and there, but clean nonetheless. And that's all it is. Stone. No sign of weeds invading or even mold growing.
"Huh." I mutter to myself as I crane my neck back around to the slide from which I entered from. "I wonder when Cameron's - "
A disgusting taste floods my mouth, as I shake my head to block it. Something kicks me in the back and it sends me flying through the space, unfortunately hitting a wall square in the shoulders.
"Dude! Did no one tell you that you should never block an entrance?" Cameron growls, rubbing his head as he lifts himself off from the ground in one swift motion. For a big guy, he sure is graceful.
"Sorry." I mutter, feeling stupid as I spit out the disgusting taste lingering from when Cameron sent me flying. "And I think I just tasted your shoe."
"That's a shame since I stepped in dog crap this morning."
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I'm beginning to think this party isn't worth it.
I know, I know, government-issued manholes are probably a lot nicer than regular ol' run-of-the-mill manholes.But... after crawling in one for over ten minutes, with your butt fat weighing you down, you start to regret certain choices.
Like choosing to amass a pretty number of bruises and scrapes from having to do an army-crawl, or even beginning to feel claustrophobia, and let's not forget my personal favorite - listening to an angsty teenager whine about how your ass is always "all up in his face" to go to a teenage party. All for a stupid teenage party.
I finally hit a block, and I nearly cry hallelujah. Using my pent-up frustration and hope to get out of this freaking tunnel I throw myself at the porthole cover, and it pops open, along with a flood of fresh air.
I suck it in gratefully. My mouth must resemble something close to the vacuum from that show "Teletubbies," but I will never, ever, shrug off something so precious again. Sweet, sweet air. Relishing the moment, I do a little kick in the air, jumping up and down like a little boy in the middle of the road.
"Got something in your pants, Falls?" Cameron snickers, jingling some metal objects from his pocket. A fancy sports car flashes it's light and honks in the distance, and I look over to him. He shrugs, walking over to the sidewalk towards the car. So it is our ride.
Sweet.
He jumps in over the door of the car, but not trusting my upper body skills from being cooped up for so long, I choose to open the door and climb in.
And that's when he starts stripping.
"Cameron, what in the Werlands are you doing?" I ask, gaping at him. He raises an eyebrow at me, throwing the black material over his shoulder into the backseat of the car, revealing a different black t-shirt, although this one has some weird band name printed on it.
"What the hell is a Werland? And I'm putting on regular clothes, you nut." He retorts, and starts the car, speeding down the sleepy road at dangerously high speeds.
I ignore the insult and do the same, the same as in peeling off my obsidian attire. "The Werlands are just..." I search for the right word. "There was this family in Falls, and they were absolute nutters. So whenever someone does something out of the ordinary, people call it a 'Werland.' Don't worry about insulting them though; they're all dead." I shrug, and begin to take off my loose fitting sweat pants.
Note to self: Don't try to jump out of your pants when you're going at a hundred miles per hour. Side effects may include: feeling like your face is peeling off, swallowing several insects, nearly crashing onto the insane driver, and almost flashing someone your boxers.
I wouldn't suggest it.
But fortunately enough, we make it there alive. I check my reflection in the mirror as we're parked outside of the house.
How do I know this is the party house? I may have clued in on the facts that all the lights are on, the whole neighborhood can hear the wretched teen pop blasting from the speakers (how rude,) or even the fact that people are making out, completely wasted on the front lawn.
Sounds like a party to me.
"C'mon priss boy. Let's get inside." Cameron says, walking up to the steps with ease, turning the knob to the door (without even knocking?) and letting ourselves in.
You can sense the party atmosphere: the sickly sweet smell of alcohol, the energy buzzing throughout the house, even. I walk through the entrance of the house, already spotting red plastic cups littered on the ground, spilling it's contents all over the carpeted floors. I cringe at the sight, but walk past it, determined to get to the heart of the party.
The living room is fairly large, I can't really tell by the number of people occupying it. One of the couches is tipped over, and the decor is wrecked. I try to shrug off the feeling of uneasiness as I wade through the mounds of bodies, raising their fists to the blaring music.
Are they trying to declare their independence or are they trying to dance? I frown at the gesture and continue walking through the house, spotting a familiar blonde head, Claresse.
Wow, I'm sort of stalking her everywhere. But that's alright, I can act like I just whhopsy-daisy bumped into her again. I begin walking towards her, until I spot Dane standing near her, his arm draped over a considerably smaller sized girl, whose features I can't quite make out.
I walk closer, wondering who the hell would want to be with Dick. I stop dead in my tracks when I see who it is. My heart races and my fists quiver in anger as I stomp over towards the tall football player, the smell of his cologne nauseating.
"Hey Xander!" Claresse chirps when she sees me. I don't respond, simply turning to face Dane and the girl. The corners of his mouth turn down when he sees me, morphing into a snarl. The girl's face pales, as she tries to take a step back from Dane, but his grip on her is too tight.
"Get your hands off her!" I yell in his face, shoving his chest and slamming him into the wall, exactly like I did on the first day of school. He turns red with anger, trying to hit me back, but I block it and hit him again in the jaw, feeling a sense of satisfaction when I hear my fist connect with it's target.
Breathing heavily, we both raise our fists to prepare for another attack. But before either of us can land another (but it's unlikely he could punch me, the nut,) Claresse steps between us with, anger plain as day on her face.
'What was that for!" She yells, and I send a withering glare to the girl, with her luscious sable brown hair falling in soft curls and her eyes, the color of the steamy hot chocolate we had everyday in Falls, the hot chocolate that represented no secrets.
"No one touches my sister."
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A/N: SO MANY SISTERS! Anyways, to clear up some confusion, the brown haired girl is in fact, Elizabeth, Xander's younger sister. With Dane, goodness me. What is she even doing at the party in the first place?
I'm so sorry for the lateness of this chapter! Hope you still enjoyed. :)
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-Rachel