The Suicide Pact
02.
"Ana, would you be so delighted as to help me make this, instead of reading that trash?" Ana's eyes turned to the size of silver dollars, then to slits in a glare.
"How dare you talk about this…this…art! It's not trash! These are classic love stories crafted from the depths of someone's heart!" she said, her voice starting in a normal tone and rising into a squeak as she finished.
I took the book from her hands and looked at the cover.
"Sexual Embrace?"
"Put the crust over the casserole when the spinach is done cooking," she said, changing the subject abruptly by reading the directions on the assignment sheet. Her face was red, though.
I did as she said and put the dish in the mini-oven.
"What now?" she asked, drumming her fingers on the table.
"We wait." I grinned and sat on my stool.
"So what are you doing this week?" she asked, staring at her nails.
"Dying," I muttered. She didn't answer for a few seconds. Then she exploded.
"Well what the hell kind of attitude is that!? What if tomorrow you're gone? You know! Bit the dust, six feet under!?" I wiped the saliva from my nose.
"Don't you know that only fools are satisfied!? Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true! When you will you realize Vienna waits for you? Slow down, you crazy child, take the phone off the hook and disappear--" She stopped when I grabbed her arm.
"Ana. For the love of God. Please stop preaching Billy Joel to me. We'll go to the damn fair after school," I said, one hand still on her arm, the other pressed to my temple.
"Great," she replied, a satisfied smile plastered to her face.
Fifteen minutes later, I sniffed a couple times at an odd smell. Then I realized it was the smell of spinach burning.
"SHIT." I shoved on some oven mitts and pulled the charred casserole from the oven. Ana just watched.
"Language!" Mrs. Jamison yelled, finger pointed.
I waved my hand over the mess in an attempt to clear the smoke. When things looked normal again, besides the black brick in a pan before me, I pressed my palm to my face in frustration.
"Hmm…" Ana said, staring at a cooking utensil. "Death by manual blender."
Elliot wouldn't ride anything at the state fair. Not because he was depressed or anything. Strictly because he was a pansy. Every ride Ana and I exited, there he was, sitting on the bench by the queue, waiting.
"You'd be having a better time if you actually got on a ride," I said, rolling my eyes.
"No, I'd be having a better time if I had cotton candy. Yet, my hands are empty," he responded, holding out his hands for effect. I shook my head and turned to Ana, only to discover she wasn't there.
I furrowed my eyebrows and scanned the area around me until I saw her, bent over a trashcan.
"No more snacks for Ana," I said, my eye twitching.
"I love this song," Elliot said, a smile spreading quickly across his face.
"What song?" I asked, sitting next to him.
"Listen." Sure enough, when I shut my mouth and opened my ears, I heard the song coming through the speakers throughout the fairgrounds. Elliot stood and pulled my hands, causing me to stand with him under the lit tent designated for eating.
"Let's dance."
"I'd rather not," I replied, attempting to free myself from his grip. No luck.
"Come on. Just do this with me," he said, his eyes glimmering from the reflection of the fluorescent lights above us. But there was something other than that. Like he was trying to say something to me with his eyes alone, and I'd possibly find that out by dancing with him.
So I did.
"How dare you talk about this…this…art! It's not trash! These are classic love stories crafted from the depths of someone's heart!" she said, her voice starting in a normal tone and rising into a squeak as she finished.
I took the book from her hands and looked at the cover.
"Sexual Embrace?"
"Put the crust over the casserole when the spinach is done cooking," she said, changing the subject abruptly by reading the directions on the assignment sheet. Her face was red, though.
I did as she said and put the dish in the mini-oven.
"What now?" she asked, drumming her fingers on the table.
"We wait." I grinned and sat on my stool.
"So what are you doing this week?" she asked, staring at her nails.
"Dying," I muttered. She didn't answer for a few seconds. Then she exploded.
"Well what the hell kind of attitude is that!? What if tomorrow you're gone? You know! Bit the dust, six feet under!?" I wiped the saliva from my nose.
"Don't you know that only fools are satisfied!? Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true! When you will you realize Vienna waits for you? Slow down, you crazy child, take the phone off the hook and disappear--" She stopped when I grabbed her arm.
"Ana. For the love of God. Please stop preaching Billy Joel to me. We'll go to the damn fair after school," I said, one hand still on her arm, the other pressed to my temple.
"Great," she replied, a satisfied smile plastered to her face.
Fifteen minutes later, I sniffed a couple times at an odd smell. Then I realized it was the smell of spinach burning.
"SHIT." I shoved on some oven mitts and pulled the charred casserole from the oven. Ana just watched.
"Language!" Mrs. Jamison yelled, finger pointed.
I waved my hand over the mess in an attempt to clear the smoke. When things looked normal again, besides the black brick in a pan before me, I pressed my palm to my face in frustration.
"Hmm…" Ana said, staring at a cooking utensil. "Death by manual blender."
Elliot wouldn't ride anything at the state fair. Not because he was depressed or anything. Strictly because he was a pansy. Every ride Ana and I exited, there he was, sitting on the bench by the queue, waiting.
"You'd be having a better time if you actually got on a ride," I said, rolling my eyes.
"No, I'd be having a better time if I had cotton candy. Yet, my hands are empty," he responded, holding out his hands for effect. I shook my head and turned to Ana, only to discover she wasn't there.
I furrowed my eyebrows and scanned the area around me until I saw her, bent over a trashcan.
"No more snacks for Ana," I said, my eye twitching.
"I love this song," Elliot said, a smile spreading quickly across his face.
"What song?" I asked, sitting next to him.
"Listen." Sure enough, when I shut my mouth and opened my ears, I heard the song coming through the speakers throughout the fairgrounds. Elliot stood and pulled my hands, causing me to stand with him under the lit tent designated for eating.
"Let's dance."
"I'd rather not," I replied, attempting to free myself from his grip. No luck.
"Come on. Just do this with me," he said, his eyes glimmering from the reflection of the fluorescent lights above us. But there was something other than that. Like he was trying to say something to me with his eyes alone, and I'd possibly find that out by dancing with him.
So I did.