Music Girl

“What a night,” I said heavily, collapsing down on my bed. I kicked off my high-heeled shoes, letting my feet breathe.

“Yeah, it was,” agreed Aravic, only making it to my shag rug before falling over.

“How much did you actually drink, Aravic?”

“Couple beers, nothin’ much.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t be drinking,” I scolded.

“The fuck else am I supposed to do, Sam?” he asked, his speech slightly slurred. “We’re supposed to drink.”

“We’re spies, remember? And this is fuckin’ Mission Impossible.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” I muttered, pulling myself up to sitting. “Give me your watch.”

Aravic attempted to take his fake watch off but failed and I ended up taking it off for him. I sat down at the computer, took off my hair clip, pulled out the chips in them, and plugged them in. All the audio from the past few hours began downloading into a hidden file. I couldn’t help but smile slightly. Alexander was brilliant.

-

School has never been something that was fun for me, but recently, it’s been unbearable. It’s been exactly one month since Cynthia woke up, and although she’s back at school, she hasn’t spoken to me since the near-fiasco at the hospital. And since Aravic couldn’t really hang out with me (not that I wanted him to) other than pretend relationship moments, I was left completely to myself. Though this had its good points, (I could get work done) I felt so… cut off. At least Cynthia had been someone I could talk to at school and eat lunch with. I found myself longing more and more for Christmas break, when I could go back to my real family, even if it was just for two weeks.

That afternoon on the bus, I claimed my usual seat, putting my headphones in and my shins up against the seat in front of me.

“You can’t hog the seat all to yourself.”

I just barely heard the voice. I looked up, pulling out one headphone, and saw Aravic standing there. I sighed and moved over to next to the window. Aravic sat down next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders and planting a rough kiss on my cheek. I had to retain a lot of self control to not make a disgusted face.

“What’cha listening to?” he asked, putting my free headphone in his ear.

“Wicked,” I replied monotonously. I hit skip as Popular started playing – I freaking hated that song. It took a moment or two before I figured out what the next song was.

“Kiss me too fiercely,
Hold me too tight,
I need help—”

I immediately switched the song as Aravic started snorting.

“What song was that?” he asked suggestively, smirking.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” I snarled, pushing him as hard as I could out of the seat. He grabbed my arms and we collided into a kiss. I jabbed him in the ribs and he stopped, laughing and wheezing at the same time.

“Just because we’re pretend dating does not mean you can try and make out with me on the bus,” I hissed in his ear.

“You’re just pissed because you liked it,” he whispered back. I punched him in the kidney.

-

After dinner, I sat in my room, eating some leftover jello and sorting through all the audio we had recorded from the most recent meeting. I was listening casually to Aravic’s recording, cleaning out the last bits of jello at the bottom of the bowl.

“That motherfucker won’t know what hit him.”

I stopped, the jello dropping off my spoon. I hit rewind as I sent Aravic a text message. I began re-listening to the conversation as I waited for him.

“Yeah? January?”

“I got the offer last night. Five grand beforehand, plane and hotel paid for, fifteen grand after it’s done.”

“You gonna snipe him?”

“Going scouting over Christmas. That motherfucker won’t know what hit him.”

There was a knock on the door and I let Aravic in. His hair was wet, he was clutching a shirt and his phone, and he was zipping up his jeans.

“What happened?” he asked a bit franticly, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Come listen to this,” I said, and I played him the bit of audio. He listened, frowning. “One of them’s Tomas, isn’t it?” I asked. “The one asking the questions?”

“Yeah,” Aravic replied slowly. “And the one bragging is Antonio.”

We sat there in silence. Finally, Aravic asked, “Any idea who they’re talking about?”

“I have a hunch,” I said darkly. “And I hope to holy Darwin I’m wrong.”

-

Five meetings, one snowstorm, and fourteen days of school later, we were finally on Christmas break. I left on Saturday morning for Boston, but it wasn’t turning out like I had expected. Somehow, Aravic had talked my father into letting him come to Boston with me, and now here he was, sitting in the airplane seat next to me, just being the pest I couldn’t get rid of that he was.

Aravic was watching a video on his laptop, frowning heavily. I tapped him on the shoulder. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the video. It showed a man and woman in some foreign country.

“My parents,” he replied simply.

“Oh. They’re in Africa, right?”

“Yeah. They were supposed to come back two weeks ago, but a bunch of riots started and they’re stuck until everything calms down.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, but your dad said it was fine, and that I could stay for however long I needed to.”

Wonderful.

The rest of the flight was surprisingly (thankfully) silent. We landed in Boston at about noon, and I lead Aravic through the terminal.

“SAM!”

We looked up to the other side of security to see two women; one older with curly black hair and one younger with blonde and green hair. I grinned and ran to my mom and Miryah. I met them both in a strong hug.

I was finally home.