Dedicated to VagabondNomad for the banner. Barbie FTW LOL.
Listen to You Like Me Too Much by The Beatles or Miss Make The Boys Cry by Sonyae Elise, Nick Nittoli and Melissa Rapp. The second song is a thousand kinds of awesome.
Irritatingly asking me to update this book will result in you getting 'ignored'.
Also, I am horrible at writing fluff. Haha. I iz zowee.
22 – You Like Me Too Much
Cheesy decorations, really loud and – I found this part more offensive – really horriblemusic topped off with a theme that only made sense to the people who made it up.
That was a fitting three item summary of the Homecoming Dance at Middle of Nowhere High – or any high school anywhere, really.
“You're really not going to dance?” Paul yelled over the dubstep track that was currently playing.
I stared at my brother. “Are you suggesting that we should dance together, Paul?”
As if to mock him, the loud party song transitioned into a slow melody. “Uhh, yeah,” I smirked. “No way in hell am I dancing to 'I'll Be' with my brother.” I laughed and Paul, smiling sheepishly, joined in. Almost immediately though, we were back to sitting in silence. This was how we'd spent the past thirty minutes ever since our friends had gone off to enjoy the dance with their dates.
George had earlier introduced me to Hayley, a cheery girl with streaks of bright purple, pink and teal decorating her pale blonde hair. While she nearly drove a wedge between my older brothers, I could see why George and Paul had both been drawn to her. She was the artsy type – all chill and funky and cool – and heaven knows those two could use a whole lot more 'cool' in their lives.
Rosie's date, Jae, was, like her, Korean. He too had Rosie's I-have-an-adorable-smile-but-I-can-kick-your-αss-in-two-seconds-flat charm. That part wasn't really surprising since he also had a black belt in Taekwondo. I was, of course, quick to point out that if Jae beat Paul to a pulp, it wouldn't be that embarrassing since they were at least the same height. Paul was quick to distance himself from the couple.
But the winner for the most surprising match up had to be Moe and Jessie. What the ever-responsible Jessie and master-delinquent Moe had in common, I knew not a fυck about. They were having a good time with each other though and, really, that was all I cared about.
Jared was the only other person who hadn't come with a date – but I'm guessing his burgundy shirt and canary yellow tie had something to do with that. Then again, he was quickly snatched up for a dance by one of his just-as-freakishly-tall classmates and I was yet to see him again. I guess the whole burgundy-and-canary-yellow combo actually worked for some people – who knew?
So this was how Paul and I were left to our own devices.
The difference between us, however, was that I had no interest in burning up the dance floor whereas Paul's feet kept tapping to the rhythm of whatever song was playing. He'd sat every dance out because he was playing the overprotective older brother card again. He was even trying his hardest to ignore a girl who kept sending him flirty smiles because he just didn't want to leave me alone.
“You can go and dance if you want,” I offered after the girl had boldy waved at Paul. “Not to inflate your ego but she's been itching to talk to you since we sat down.”
Paul's smile only lasted a second. “I don't want to leave you –”
I stood up and pointed to the bleachers. “I'm going to eat my weight in pretzels and hope that someone spiked the punch,” I half-joked. “You go and have a great time with her and come find me when it's time to go home, okay?”
I walked away, not giving him a chance to protest, and made a quick stop at the snack table. Once I was armed with enough half-edible pretzels and too-sweet fruit punch to occupy me for most of the night, I made my way to the topmost row of the bleachers.
I was eating stale pretzels and drinking sugary punch.
Alone.
In a dark corner of a school gym.
If I had a Kleenex box next to me and mascara tears running down my face, I would be the poster child for pathetic and sad.
But realizing that wasn't what made me put down the pretzel I was about to put in my mouth.
What stopped me was that I didn't feel anything.
I didn't feel like laughing my αss off at how much of a wuss I was being. I didn't even have the desire to silently mock the people around me for making such a big deal about one lame high school dance. For crying out loud, I didn't even feel mad and anger had always been my constant companion in life.
I didn't feel a single fυcking thing.
That was the bucket of cold water that shook me to the core.
This was worse than what Jessie or my brothers had thought.
I wasn't just losing the fire in my eyes.
I was losing my … soul.
And while it may be easier for you to think that I wasn't born with one, I actually do have a soul – or had one, if it wasn't lost just yet.
“Mind if I join you?”
The words were almost drowned out by the music from the dance and while I heard them, I didn't bother looking up. Chances were, they weren't even for me to hear. It wasn't like I was the only kid hanging out on the bleachers.
“Mind if I join you?”
The words were a lot louder this time – right in my ears loud – that I looked up to see what poor soul was desperate enough to want to sit next to one of the least popular people at Middle-of-Nowhere High.
The poor soul turned out to be none other than one of the most popular people at Middle-of-Nowhere High.
“Hey,” Finn smiled warmly. “Mind if I join you?” he asked for the third time.
One of my eyebrows went up of its own accord. “Does my answer really matter?”
“No,” Finn answered with a wide grin.
I sighed and looked at the space to my right. I picked up my cup of punch and the napkin I'd piled pretzels on and nodded at him to take a seat.
He acknowledged it all with a nod and sat down. Two songs started and ended before Finn spoke again. “So,” he hesitated, “you came to the dance.”
I turned and gave him a look of unhindered sarcasm.
“I mean, you obviously came to the dance.” Finn chuckled. “I'm just surprised that you did since you didn't want to come –”
“With you,” I finished before he could. “I said I didn't want to come with you – or wouldn't,” I said quickly when I noticed the flash of hurt in his eyes. “I just,” I sighed. “I didn't want to draw anymore attention to myself.”
“That why you're dressed like you're in mourning?” He nodded at my very prim and proper – and thus, dance-inappropriate – dress.
“Well,” I smirked. “My social life here is dead.”
His smile was short-lived. “It doesn't have to be, you know.”
“If you're going to suggest we hit the dance floor –”
“You made it clear a week ago that going to the dance with me wouldn't help,” he told me in a sombre voice. “I kinda gathered you weren't in the mood to dance with me.”
“If it makes you feel any better, my brothers dragged me to this dance,” I admitted with a sigh. “It wasn't just that I didn't want to come with you. I didn't want to come here. Period.”
“That does make me feel better.” Finn's answering smile. “At least now, I don't feel like you said no to me because you didn't like me.”
“I just didn't like that you wanted to fix my problem for me,” I shrugged. “But I like you fine enough on your own, Finnigan.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Enough to want to watch a movie with me tomorrow?”
I dug my nails into my palms to restrain myself from snapping. “You're doing it again, Finn,” I said tersely, looking him straight in the eyes.
“Doing what?” He looked genuinely confused. “What do you think I'm doing?”
“Trying to fix my problems.”
I took a calming breath to settle myself
“I'm happy keeping my head down and being a social outcast, Finn. I even like it,” I emphasized. “No one's offered to make me a cheerleader this week so that's great,” I joked bitterly.
Not to mention this would make things a whole lot easier when I had to leave.
“That's not why I'm doing this,” Finn said with a quiet conviction. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, a loud, upbeat number started playing making any and all conversation impossible.
Finn turned away from me to glare at the speakers like he could blow them up with his mind then faced me one more time. “Can we talk some where else?” he half-screamed over the music. “Somewhere we can actually talk and not yell at each other?”
“I can't,” I half-screamed back, shaking my head. “I told Paul I'd stay here. He'll be looking for me when it's time to go home.”
Being on the receiving end of an are-you-stupid look was not, as I discovered, a place I ever wanted to find myself in again.
I felt a tinge of sympathy for everyone I'd given that look to – and it was just a tinge, mind you.
“The dance ends ends at eleven and it isn't even eight,” Finn reminded me with a sardonic smile. “You've got time to talk.”
With those words, I was half-dragged out of the dimly lit gym. Finn's grip on my wrist was tight, bordering on punishing, as he led the way out of the gym and towards the soccer field.
It was quiet here – and not to mention a place of comfort, for him at least.
The moment we were seated at the top row of the bleachers over the looking the field – no more different than how we were earlier except for the lack of noise and the abundance of an eerie quiet – he let go of my hand.
“I'm not trying to fix your problems for you, Lennon,” Finn said shakily. “You told me you didn't want my help dealing with them. I got that.”
He turned and looked me straight in the eye, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “And I'm not asking you out to the movies out of guilt or because I want to help boost your popularity.”
My thoughts made a resounding click in my head.
I'd forgotten Finn had been interested in me that way after being too consumed with the mess of what had most recently happened.
I looked at Finn – really looked at him – before I spoke again.
“Why?”
The question would have confused anyone else. But I was talking to Finn Wallace and he would have made a fortune as a psychic.
He looked off into the field and shrugged. “Who the hell even knows why we like the things we like?” When he turned back to look at me, the green of his eyes burned bright into the blue of mine and a smile was playing on his lips. “Or the people we like.”
If his message had been unclear earlier, it was clearer than crystal now.
I looked away, but not for the reasons he – or you – probably thought. “Well, I do.”
From the smile on his face, he must have missed the underlying bitterness in my voice. “Oh, really?”
“You think the things I say are hilarious,” I recited. “You think I'm refreshing because I say what I think and I don't hold back. And it helps that I don't look like a truck rammed into my face.” I smirked at him.
Finn nodded, grinning right back at me.
“To you, I'm the hot, crazy new girl, Finn.” It was then that my smile dropped entirely. “With a major emphasis on the new.”
The instant look of concern on his face broke me. I started to turn away from him but he placed a hand on my shoulder and held me there. “You're right – about all of it. Those are the reasons why I like you,” he admitted. “So why the hell do you seem pissed about it?”
I fought to stop myself from sneering. “Because I'm not some novelty item you can use for laughs, Finn.”
“I never thought you were.”
His words were spoken like a rush, as if he didn't even have to think about them one bit – and he would never know how much that meant to me that he didn't have to.
I would never admit it if anyone asked, but I was shattered and broken from everything I'd been through in the past few weeks.
What Finn had just said – and, more importantly, how he'd said them – was not the spell to make the shattered pieces whole again.
No.
What he did was better than that.
He had unknowingly handed me the scotch tape so that I could start patching things up on my own.
My lips couldn't form the words to thank Finn – my pride simply wouldn't let me – but they were capable of doing something else to show him how grateful I was.
My right hand slowly moved up to touch his hand on my shoulder. I brought it down until it was resting lightly on my knee.
Finn watched with curious eyes as my hands traced the outline of his and drew a light line wrist to a finger tip. When I covered his palm with my own, it jolted him from the trance he was falling into and he looked right back into my eyes one more time.
That was when I gave him my gift of thanks – and you can keep it in your pants because we didn't kiss this time too.
I chose to give Finn something better – more unique – than a kiss.
I gave him a smile that was full, wide and undoubtedly sincere.
He blinked, probably surprised that my expression was free of any kind of negativity, and soon gave me a shaky smile of his own.
Satisfied, I gave his hand a gentle squeeze and released it.
He looked down at his hand, subtly flexing his fingersas if he was still trying to put together the events that had transpired. A second later, his psychic abilities kicked in and his eyes were zoned back into a mine. There was a knowing glint behind them.
Finn understood.
And with everything I knew about him, I wasn't too surprised that he did.
I cleared my throat and spoke with a voice that was much lighter than what I'd used in the past two weeks. “I'm still grounded you know.”
“I know that.” You could feel the smile from his voice alone. “But you won't be grounded forever, right?”
I nodded. “My prison sentence officially ends on Monday.” At this point, my smile was full and
He quirked an eyebrow. “So you're free on Tuesday?”
“It does,” I answered slowly. “But it's a school night. I doubt Barbie and Ken would let me go out to the movies.”
His brows knit together at my last sentence. “Barbie and –?”
“My parents.” I grimaced. “And they're just as insane as their names suggest.” I laughed. “Thought they're not the insane enough to let their kids go out on a school night.”
It took him a few seconds to process that my parents were named Barbie and Ken – I wouldn't blame him if it took a few hours – before he finally shrugged and laughed lazily. “Don't worry. I'll figure something out.”
I acknowledged that with a small smile. “We should probably get back to the dance though,” I suggested.
Finn perked up.
“Not to dance, you idiot,” I corrected him, laughing, as I stood up. He followed my lead and we began to make our way back to the gym.
“Knowing Paul, he's ditched the girl he was dancing with to check on me,” I mumbled. “He probably thinks I choked on a pretzel or something equally impossible.”
Though I had to admit, Paul would never in think that I'd spent the last fifteen minutes hanging out with Finn.
“So you're just going to spend the whole dance eating pretzels and drinking punch?” Finn's question had a cocktail of hope and confusion behind it.
“Well they were pretty dαmn good pretzels,” I fired back with a mocking smile. “But, yeah, I guess that's all I be doing until our parents come pick us up.”
“Hmm,” he said and opened the gym doors for us. He waited for me to walk in first before asking another set of questions. “And there's no way I can convince you to dance? Even just one dance?”
I shook my head and walked over to the snack table. Finn was only two steps behind me. I pretended to think it over as I filled a new paper napkin with pretzels and grabbed a fresh cup of punch. Finn mimicked my actions and grabbed his own glass.
“You could try and drag me to the dance floor,” I drawled as we climbed the bleachers to, once again, get to the top row. “But I can't promise that I won't knee you in the groin.”
Finn sputtered at the mockingly sweet smile I was giving him and shook his head.
“I guess I'm just not in the dancing mood tonight,” I explained when I finally sat down.
“That's cool,” he nodded and took the seat next to me. “But you won't mind if I eat pretzels and drink punch with you, right?” Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed a handful of pretzels from the napkin in my hand and popped them in his mouth.
“Aww.” I put on a pretentiously disappointed pout. “I thought you were coming up here to make out.”
Bits of half-chewed pretzel flew out of Finn's mouth and landed as far as two rows below us.
It wasn't the reaction I was expecting when I made that joke.
But who was I kidding?
Finn's reaction was better than anything I could conjure up in my head.
I righteously laughed my head off but began to rub between his shoulder blades to make sure he didn't choke himself to death from my perfectly-timed prank.
Once Finn's breathing had returned to normal and we'd both wiped the tears from our eyes – his from choking and mine from laughing way too hard – he looked me straight in the eye. “I know you were just kidding earlier but –”
I laughed and pinched his cheeks, stopping him mid-sentence. “Not a chance, big boy.”
* * * * *
“Lennon Gertrude Simms!” Mom called out from the foot of the stairs. “What is taking you so long?!”
Admit it, Mom was begging to be yelled at when she pulled out the G word.
“Mom, will you hold your go –”
“Lennon!”
“– amn horses!” I called back out to her just as loudly. “I'm moving as fast as I can but I will notbreak my fu –”
“Lennon!”
“– ing neck in the process!”
While it was another typical Monday morning for the rest of the world, it was a busier-than-usual one in the Simms household. You see, on top of the daily Bathroom Games my brothers and I held – of which, today, I was the loser – Dad had to be at the airport in thirty minutes.
Why did my father's impending business trip make things a lot more hectic for the rest of us?
For one, the airport was exactly fifteen minutes away from our house.
For another, Middle-of-Nowhere High was another fifteen minute drive from our house – in the complete opposite direction.
You see, this wouldn't be a problem if our parents were sane enough to call for a taxi.
The question was: Were my parents sane enough to do this?
Of course not.
Barbie and Ken, in their infinite bat-shιt environmental nut job wisdom, had decided against calling a taxi because, after a lot of research – and I mean a lot of it – they'd discovered that the local taxi cabs guzzled gas like a non-recovering alcoholic would easily down a bottle of whiskey.
So, naturally, Mom was going to say fυck you to sanity altogether and attempt the impossible of getting Dad and us to our respective destinations on time.
My parents' insanity explained why, at the moment, I was trying to pull both shoes on while hobbling down the second floor hallway and why Paul and George were hastily making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the kitchen – for both our breakfast and lunch.
Everyone, if you didn't fail to notice, was in a rush. Even Ringo and Elvis had sensed the frantic energy and were running around the house more crazed than usual.
“I'm here, Mother,” I seethed once I was finally at the foot of the stairs. “But I don't see you rushing to get to the car ahead of me.”
“I was just about to,” she snapped back. My mother, when she was unhinged, was a lot more like me than she would care to admit. “And you watch your tone, young lady – you don't want to be grounded for one more week do you?”
“Of course not, Mother,” I answered, sickly sweet and sarcastically.
Mom narrowed her eyes at me before deciding against drawing the argument out and stormed off to the kitchen. “Hurry up, you two!” she called out to the twins who were frantically shoving sandwiches into zip lock bags.
It was a testament to how grouchy everyone was today that even George – good old sensible and almost-always respectful George – gave Mom the bird when she wasn't looking.
“We could have just taken the bus, but no,” Paul grumbled as he threw a sandwich bag at my face. “They want to make us ride to school with them.”
George and I grunted in response as all three of us grumpily climbed into the backseat of the minivan after him. We hadn't even finished buckling ourselves in when the garage door opened and Dad hurriedly stepped on the gas – and then immediately on the brake.
Why hello there, face. Meet the the back of the passenger's seat.
“Okay, ow,” I complained as I rubbed my jaw – I was pretty sure it wasn't dislocated but it sure as hell felt like ti.
On the other side of George, Paul was doing the exact same thing after his own jaw had collided with the back of the driver's seat Dad was in. George, seated between us, was nursing his neck after banging into the edge of both seats.
“Whose car is that?” Dad said, angrily undoing his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. Mom followed him half a second later.
It was then that our my brother's and my attention were drawn to what had caused our Dad to nearly kill all three of his children in one go.
Parked a few free in front of our garage was a classic gray Mustang.
Standing in front of it was Finn Wallace.
“Holy shιt,” I hissed. The pain in my jaw momentarily forgotten, I rushed out of the car and ran to my parents before they could go all Chucky and his Bride on Finn at seven A.M.
“Finn!” George called out before either of our parents could start yelling at Finn. “What are you doing here, man?” George was trying his best to speak around a possibly-bruised larynx.
“Uhm.” Finn's face was the picture of worry but he managed to smile nervously at our parents. “Good morning, Miste –”
“Call me Ken,” Dad replied shortly in his I-am-a-scary-lawyer-bow-down-to-me voice, “and this is my wife, Barbie.”
Finn looked at me with a look of complete disbelief. He already knew our parents were named Barbie and Ken but it seemed that, until now, he thought I was joking.
I simply gave him a what-did-I-tell-you face.
“I'm Finn – Finn Wallace – and I go to school with your kids,” Finn started. “I'm actually on the soccer team with your sons.”
“You're the captain of the soccer team,” Paul grumbled.
Mom and Dad glared at him. George and I, on the other hand, were at the halfway poiint between laughing and strangling him for always making the most inopportune side comments.
“I slammed my head into the back of a car seat,” Paul hissed at all of us. “Give me a break!”
“Anyway,” Finn continued before our parents – who, at the moment, looked like a pair of volcanoes on the brink of explosion – could say something, “I was driving by the neighborhood and I wanted to see if Lennon wanted a ride to school?”
My face was as red as a tomato.
“Oh.” A smile – the kind that meant embarrassment for all of her children and not just her only girl – started to form on Mom's face. “Would you mind taking Paul and George too?”
Next to me, my brothers' faces quickly turned bright shades of red too.
Finn didn't even blink. “Of course,” he replied with a confident smile.
“Wonderful!” Dad announced. “Now, Finn, my wife and I would love to chat with you some more but I have a flight to catch.”
Mom nodded. “You seem like a lovely young man – maybe you can join us for dinner some time?”
Finn looked completely taken aback. “O-okay.”
Our parents, however, weren't there to hear his reply. After issuing the dinner invitation, Mom and Dad had rushed back into the minivan and, as if he was a stunt driver and not a lawyer, Dad maneuvered it through the tiny space between Finn's car and our garage. Not even three seconds later, our parents were turning the corner at five miles over the neighborhood speed limit, leaving four very confused children behind.
“Cool parents,” Finn commented weakly ten seconds after his first encounter with our parents who were – most definitely – not cool.
As you would expect, Paul, George and I just looked at him like he'd lost his marbles.
I was thinking of holding a one shot writing contest for NAB with a strict list of prompts/scenes to choose from (all involving characters from this book only). What I'd be looking for is something creative but can fit into the storyline of NAB. I'll tell you the details and the judging criteria when I have it finalized.
The "big" prize could be me editing and critiquing the winner's book and helping promote it. I'll basically help in whichever way is needed though I'm not sure if "I'm" even a decent a prize XD I'm still thinking of prizes for the second and third place winners and maybe some runner ups too?
So if you have any thoughts/suggestions about the maybe-contest and its prize/s, leave them in a comment :)
Story Recommendation: "City Lights" by cataclysms
Story Description: In which a hurricane who is always pleasing everyone but herself, and a storm who is unable to repair his broken heart meet one night – and maybe yes the hurricane is slightly more than tipsy – and sit down together on the same bench to watch the city lights, and somehow manage not to simultaneously explode – on the first night. The city lights hold all sorts of magic in them after all.
Be sure to vote AND leave a meaningful comment to get the chance of getting your story recommended!
VOTE. COMMENT. SHARE. (And follow? XD)
- Chompy