The great thing about new friends is that they bring new energy to your soul ~ Shanna Rodriguez
"Cassie," my voice is small.
She press her lips together, "Raven."
We don't say anything for an odd amount of time. I stare at her in shock and she is looking anywhere but at me. Cassie is taller now, much taller. She used to be a few inches shorter than I was, but now she's half a head taller. Her pink complexion is covered by layer after layer of foundation which makes her look just as fake as the other cheerleaders. Her blue eyes are duller than I remember. They used to resemble the ocean on a summer's day but now... they resemble nothing.
She breaks the silence, her eyes now focused on a tree to my left, "it's been a while, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess it has," I reply.
The uncomfortable silence returns and I follow her eyes, avoiding to look at her. The school is basically empty by now and it's just the two of us out in the parking lot with the occasional passing car or swaying tree. "So you're a cheerleader now?" it's my turn to speak now.
"Yeah," she shrugs, "I needed an extra-curricular activity and it seems to be my forte."
I respond with a genuine smile, "you seem happy with them. You fit in well."
The corners of her mouth tilt upwards slightly, "I am and I do."
As soon as she says this, her face falls. I don't pay much attention to it. "I should get going, my mom is going to kill me," I say.
She simply nods. "It was nice to see you," are my last words before I turn around, leaving her standing alone.
"Raven?" she calls out after me.
I stop dead in my tracks and face her instantly. Her eyes scream for hope and they are a little brighter than they were a moment ago. "It was nice to see you too."
It's impossible to prevent the smile that grows on my face and the delight in my guts. Cassie clearly missed me as much as I missed her and it feels like such a relief to know that even though she hangs out with a popular and cocky posse, she's still the Cassie I've always known.
After bumping into her, I am in no mood to put on my suit and stand out from everybody else. Even as I sit on the subway, squished up with dozens of sweaty and older bodies, I am still radiating joy, grinning at anyone who's eyes meet mine.
I don't want to go home. I want to go somewhere else. Even if mom is going to ground me for getting home so late, I find myself hopping off at an earlier stop.
The bell rings as I open the door to Delmar's. I open my mouth to shout a hello to Mr. Delmar, but shut it as soon as I take in what's happening in the bodega. A man stands with his back to me, holding up a gun toward Mr Delmar who wears a frightened expression. Another person stands with his hands up, his brown eyes meeting mine... Peter. He's worried. Another customer sits at a table clearly terrified for her life, their teeth chattering.
I take a small step, trying not to make a noise as my sneakers touch the ground. "Give me the money!" the criminal says. He's definitely inexperienced with his completely exposed face. His hand holding the gun trembles like a leaf.
Another step forward and my eyes meet with Peter's again. He shakes his head, eyes wide, mouthing no over and over again. I put a hand up, signalling for him to shut up.
"I told you to give me the money!" the burglar snaps.
Peter still has his eyes on me. He whispers to me this time, "don't do it!"
Bad move, Parker. Bad move. The man turns to Peter and follows his eyes to me. I have to move quickly. He begins to shake more and more as he processes what's happening. I kick him where the sun doesn't shine and he groans in pain, the gun still in his hands. He still hasn't shot yet. He looks up at me with anger, a fire burning wildly in his eyes. I'm like a deer frozen in headlights. I've never had a proper fight with someone... especially not an armed someone. Peter storms up behind him and places a hand on the guy's shoulder, turning him to face him.
"Hey pal," he says. This is instantly followed by an uppercut to the jaw.
The man falls to the floor and the gun falls from his grasp, skidding towards me. I kick it behind me and Peter shoves him onto his back, wrapping his hands together. "Call the cops, Mr Delmar!" he orders.
Mr Delmar instantly obeys and hurries into the backroom. Peter faces the lone customer, "go, get out of here!"
She hurriedly picks up her purse and runs out before I could ask her if she's alright. Peter nods towards me, "are you okay?"
"I should be asking you that," I scoff, "you're lucky I came when you did."
He grins mischievously, "you're lucky I was here when you came."
I shake my head, failing to conceal the smile on my face. I'd hate to think what would've happened if he wasn't here considering I was frozen.
The cops arrive and the man is forced away into a car. They insist on asking us all dozens of questions, but Mr Delmar fights back, "they don't need to be here. They're just hungry kids and I know everything here so I am going to make them each a sandwich and they will go home!"
Peter and I exchange a look across the table we sit at as they attempt to talk Mr Delmar out of it. But talking this man out of something he's already intent on doing is near impossible. He has nothing of it. He reaches over the counter and hands us each a sandwich, "on the house for saving my life and my money."
"Thanks," Peter and I say in unison as we leave the bodega, leaving Mr Delmar to deal with the police.
After that occurrence, Peter is insistent on walking me home. "You don't need to do this," I say even though I know that this boy is like Mr Delmar: once he makes up his mind, there's no changing it. I am sort of shaken up, but I am also quite capable of walking home alone.
"No, I need to do this. And even if I didn't need to do it, I want to do it," he beams at me. His hands are in his pockets, already finished with his sandwich from Delmar's. I'm only halfway done. "I swear to God, if you don't finish that sandwich in another five minutes, I'm going to steal it. It's only making me hungry."
"How can you be hungry?!" I shout, almost choking on a bit of bread, "your sandwich was twice the size of mine!"
"I'm a growing boy," he raises an eyebrow, "I need to eat large quantities of food."
I snort, "you're making it sound like you're overweight."
He shrugs, "well I'm not. I'm buff."
I genuinely choke on a piece of bread this time. My feet stop and I bend over, uncontrollably coughing. Peter stops and stands beside me, patting my back. "Are you okay?" he asks worriedly.
The coughing eases but I'm still bent over, dying of laughter.
He bends down with me, "what's so funny?"
"You're... you're..." I can't contain the laughter. I manage to finally gain composure and stand up straight, "you are not buff!"
"I am too!" he moans, a hint of humor in his voice, "did you seriously almost die because I said I'm buff?"
"Yes and I am not ashamed of it because that was hilarious!" I respond, trying so hard not to break out into a fit of laughter again, "Peter, fit guys have massive muscles and work out everyday!"
"I do have massive muscles and who's not to say that I don't work out everyday?" he replies snarky.
I stop in the middle of the pathway and face him with my arms crossed over my chest, "prove it."
He rolls his eyes and exhales, "if you insist." He shrugs off his dark green jacket and throws it at me.
I catch it and crease my forehead. "I still don't see anything," I say wittily, eyeing his arm.
"I'm not done yet, don't rush me," he shakes his head in an attempt to tease me. He lifts the sleeve of his t-shirt towards his neck and pumps his bicep.
Wow.
It is big.
He wasn't joking.
He is pretty fit.
Wow.
Wow.
And wow again.
"Your drooling has proved my point," he says satisfied and rolls his sleeve back down much to my disappointment. He pulls his jacket from my grasp and I'm still in awe. "You can stop drooling now," he smirks.
"Okay, I admit that I did underestimate you, Parker. But a, I was not drooling! And b, you're still not buff."
"Whatever you say, Garcia. Whatever you say," he says, slinging his jacket over his shoulder.
We stop outside of my house and I gesture towards it, "this is it."
He whistles, "impressive."
"Never judge a house by its front lawn," I tell him.
"Never judge a house by its front lawn," he repeats, "I'm adding it to the list."
I groan and swing the fence open. "I was going to invite you in but after that, no," I chuckle, "no, but seriously. Do you want to come in?"
"Thanks, but I should get going before May gets worried."
"I'll see you tomorrow then," I say.
"Tomorrow."
And I watch as he walks off. He takes a few steps and then turns back around, pumping his bicep again and raising his brows. I roll my eyes and face my house.
My feet need to be forced into walking up to the large, mahogany door with the golden handle. The house seems bigger and more daunting despite the amount of times I've been here. The door handle is cold against my fingers and I shove it open.
"You're finally home!" mom breathes a sigh of relief, "where have you been?"
"I just went to Delmar's," I show her my sandwich as proof.
She throws a hand up in exasperation, knowing that I'm not going to add anymore detail or talk to her anymore. I run up the stairs. I pass Cam's room on the way to mine and say hi to him. He's too busy playing some video game on his Xbox so he grunts a response back.
I collapse onto my bed and my phone chimes as soon as my head hits the pillow. I pick it up instantly and smile when the name displayed on the screen is Peter.
Here's a photo of the homework and P.S. I'm working out as you're reading this text.
I type back straight away.
Thanks, dork.