[This A/N will be here for a week before being deleted]
Originally, this was three chapters combined into one. However, as I wrote it, I realized that too much was happening too fast and that the POV switches were very annoying and so I decided to break it up into three final chapters (not including the brief epilogue). Thus, these chapters together were about ten pages, however, split part they are a bit shorter (this one is 3 or 4v pages, while the other two are about 4 or 5 pre-editing). Yes, the absurdity of this situation is still rising and will reach its fever pitch in these three chapters (The Longest Night; Longest Night Squared; Longest Night Cubed). Math problems will abound in Price’s chapter, but for now, enjoy Jeremy’s unique brand of crazy. Enjoy! Vote & Comment!
Chapter X
The Longest Night
Smalle
It turned out that Price being in love with my dad, and them having a secret relationship wasn’t the only thing they were keeping from me. They were also planning my surprise 17th birthday party behind my back, which led me to ponder to myself when all of the deceit and lies would end?
The only reason I found out was because I was snooping on them downstairs in the kitchen one night as they talked with hushed voices, like cockroaches eating pieces of popcorn on a counter-top. I walked in, expecting to find them frenching or at the very least humping, but instead found them with a box of streamers flooding over to the ground, and packets of balloons littering the kitchen counter.
As much as I love my best friend and my dad I didn’t want them throwing any parties for me. Price was Price and my Dad didn’t know a good party if he married it (and then proceeded to cheat on it with a younger man, who is also his sons best friend/ I am not okay with this.) So, I took over, or at least Rory and Ivy did.
Within the week, we tried to finalize this thing while also keeping an eye on my dad and Price. Daunting task, I realized.
“Dylan, Erin, Josh, Michaela, Stephen-”
“Wait,” I said.
Rory’s voice faltered and he looked up from the sheet of paper in his hands. He seemed like he was going to rest it on top of the coffee table in my living room, but probably to decide against it. I assumed he knew I planned to rip it up and feed it to wild birds. “What is it this time?” he asked, sounding annoyed already. I hadn’t even said anything yet. Sheesh.
“Who invited Stephen?” I asked, staring down at my copy of the invite list all laser beam like. It was fucking stupid enough that I had to come up with a list to invite people to my party (when has that ever stopped anyone from going to a party ever?), but I drew the fucking line at inviting Stephen. I know, I know, irony.
Rory, ruffled the paper in his hand, but didn’t backsass (yet). He just shook his head and sighed. “Stephen hasn’t done anything to you, Jeremy.”
“He’s a Mooner,” I shot back. “He’s guilty by alien-association.”
Rory looked like he was done with me (this was his normal face). “Dude, he’s just a guy. A really hot guy. He’s not some alien life-form.”
“First, you haven’t broken up with Price yet, so you can’t call some other guy ‘hot’ or ‘human’ and also there’s no evidence to prove that he’s of this world,” I said.
“You mean besides his birth certificate?” Rory returned his eyes to the single sheet. “Or,” He shrugged, “I don’t know, common sense, oh, and let’s not forget the ancient concept of logic.”
“I get it, you dick,” I snapped and ripped the paper out of his hands, much to his amusement/annoyance (I really don’t know. Rory’s facial expressions only change slightly with each emotion so it’s hard to tell what’s happy and what’s sad). “Don’t be a fucking asshole, Rory.” I took a pen off of the bed next him and drew a line through Stephen’s name. “I don’t want some mandroid sucking on the neck of innocent women at my 17th birthday party.”
Rory cocked his head, haring falling to the side of covering one of his eyes, leaving the other to show all that annoyance; an unnerving task. “So, he’s some alien-robot-vampire hybrid?” He nodded, dull-eyed. “That sounds completely plausible.”
“Again,” I said, scotching out the name completely until it was unrecognizable, “don’t be a dick sandwich.” I threw the pen at him, but he dodged it. Fast fucker. I pouted, but only for a moment. I had to ask him something important, now that Price was in the other room helping Mom with the snacks. “So,” I sang, “when are you going to break up with Price?”
Rory looked up, eyebrow cocked. “Break-up?”
“I mean, no offence, but he’s sort of cheating on you. With my dad.” I gagged a little. My stomach was obviously against this. And my gut. Possibly my lungs. The jury was still out on my spleen and kidneys.
“I’ll do it later”, he said. He shifted in his seat, like he was sitting on sharpened rocks. “When we get a chance to be alone.” He waited a beat. “By the way, I would like to point out that there is no proof that he is actually roating chesnuts over an one fire with your father.”
I waved him off. “He admitted it, Rory.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He moved closer. “So, Price Bigg told you that he was having an affair with your father?”
I nodded. Then I stopped said nodding. I got was he was trying to imply. “Not in so many words, but basically.”
Rory huffed. “J, what have I told you about making inferences. You’re not as good as English as you think you are. You always end up matching the wrong clues.”
“Hey,” I snapped, “the answers to life’s greatest mysterious were all discovered accidently. Sometimes you’ve got to make a bunch of wild, probably inaccurate assumptions until you stumble upon the truth.”
Rory looked like he bit down whatever wanted to escape through his lips and forced it back down his throat. “It’s like you’re evolving backwards,” he mumbled snatching the paper back and scanning it again.
“Hey boys,” Dad greeted as he jogged into the room and rested a bag of chips on the table, a mountain of different assortments.
“Hey Dad,” I mumbled with a swallow just as Rory offered an apathetic “Hey, Mr. Smalle.”
Dad surveyed the room, eyeing the aftermath of the nuclear bomb made of paper that had went off just a while ago. “You boys really do take all of this seriously don’t you?”
I nodded making it a point to avoid my Dad’s eyes, because, hello, those are the same eyes that have been staring into Price’s eyes and saying how much he loved him. Just. No.
Thankfully, Rory wasn’t as scarred as I was and mustered up a decent answer. “You know us teenagers,” he laughed and it sounded as strained as you’d think it would. Rory laughing always seemed creepy. Like an antique doll merchant.
“You teenagers are dicks,” another voice chimed in, sounding annoyed and maybe that gave him away. Even though I couldn't see Micah behind the tall bag of candy hat looked like a, well, a tall bag of colorful candy with small child arms, his hatred for us teenagers gave him away. “Is this a party for nine year olds?” he said, dropping it near his feet, tearing the bags and allowing some candies to slip out through it onto the ground like a leaking faucet. “What self-respecting seventeen-year-old has a bag of candy at his party?”
“One who is as fabulous as I am,” I shot back.
He grimaced and swatted Dad’s hand away when he tried to ruffle his hair. “If you people need me, I’ll be up in my room trying to pretend you all got sucked into some other dimension.”
I jumped to my feet as Micah tried to exit. “Uh, let me walk you there, little bro.” I tried to put an arm around him but he bit (bit!) it.
“What do you want, you freak?” he shot, jogging out of the room, trying to escape me. But as he got to the stairs in the other room, I deer-bounced m way up the stairs next to him., He tried to sped up, but alas, this effort was futile as my legs could wrap around Micah three times. I caught up to him and jogged in front with relative ease.
I jogged backwards as he powered forward. Are all preteens this angry all the time? Must be the pre-teen hormones thing. You know. The hormones before the actual hormones?
“I’ve got a question to ask you,” I said once we got to his room door, spray painted black. I blockaded his door so he couldn't pass, stretching my body out as far it would go.
Micah rolled his eyes, dusting his hair out of his eyes and (trying) to push me out of the way. Sadly, I had just ate and was as heavy as boulder and Micah wasn’t exactly the shining example of preteen strength and stamina, or maybe he was which was his problem. I could almost hear his bones wailing when he tried to move me.
“What are you made of?” he asked, panting. “Jesus.”
“No, bones,” I quipped and got a quick smirk out of him, but it disintegrated and the scowl returned.
He folded his arms over his (almost there) chest. “What? Have you caved in and gotten a boyfriend already?” he asked.
“Nope,” I cheered, triumphantly. “That was too cliché for me. Besides, you’re not some oracle or something so there’s no way you could’ve known all of that.”
Micah huffed and tried to duck under me, but I extended myself over the door so there was no way for him to cockroach his way out of this one. Human insecticide.
“What do you want, Jeremy?” he sighed, deflating in the process.
“You’re good at Math right?” I asked.
He lit up a bit. “First in my class.”
“Dude.” I ruffled his hair and he slapped it away again, but didn’t spit any corrosive venom into my eyes this time. “That’s fucking awesome.”
“I know,” he responded, picking at his nails.
“Okay, so, I need you to solve something for me.”
“I don’t do high school math, Jer,” he said. “Go ask your boyfriend.”
I sputtered a bit. Like, spit and saliva and stuff. “I have no such thing!” I countered, puffing out my (already there) chest. “And it’s not a problem you’d learn in high school. It’s more complicated than that.”
“What is it?” he asked, trying to cough away the laughter from my bit of sputtering and spitting and stuffing.
“It’s kind of weird, so no being a sassy little brother, kapeesh?” I was starting to pick at my nails, because isn't that what nervous guys did? Or were those just teen novel things?
“Whatever,” he mumbled and decided to back up off of me and leaned against the opposite wall.
“Is there any equation to explain why something, I don’t know, happens?” I asked.
Micah, to his credit, didn’t laugh in my face. Instead he gave me a long look, eyes eyeing me. “Jeremy, that didn’t make sense. Not even a little,” he said. “Which is even too little for you.”
“Look, I’m going to tell you this slowly,” I said, just that, slowly, like a recording that has been slowed down without the low, voice. Micah had already folded his arms again and already had that ‘you’re lying’ look on his face. I leaned against his door, legs now together, and arms now in front of me. “I’m going to tell you this as gently as possible, I said,” but fuck it, “Dad is fucking Price!” I blurted and it shot down the hall, bounced off of the wall and smacked Micah on his right cheek.
“I think its official that I’m adopted,” he blurted out, kicking off the wall and worming his way around me. He opened his room door, griping onto the knob and yanking.
I snaked my way around him and soon, we were standing in the opposite directions. “I’m serious, Micah!” I shouted and instantly tried to grab the words and swallow them back down before the sound could travel further. But fate was not on my side today – or any other day for the past month it would seem.
Micah didn’t really answer me. He just kept his back turned and hunched over like he works 10 hour day shifts as a mall cop or a middle school teacher. “Get help, you freak,” was the only thing he blurted before she shut his door, slamming it in my face.
As the door slammed in my face, it kind of majorly struck me how majorly uncoolio this whole situation was. Here I was, ranting and raging like an ed of days hobo on 23rd street that Micah and my dad were doing it. While the others were the annoyed businessman who didn’t see the end of times coming and end up being filled chicken in Hell with Satan.
It’s up to me to prove to them that this thing is happening. And with my birthday tonight, I planned on doing so.
I only have to edit the next chapter (It usually takes me about a day to edit, re-write it and edit it again and post it – yes I do all of that) so next week should be Bigg’s Math filled POV. Soooo, l get your calculators out people we will be doing some statistics next chapter.