Twinfestation

Mr. Daylen didn't say a word when I approached his desk, didn't even look up. He kept on typing away at his computer, the normal scowl set on his face and bags under his eyes. Uncombed, overgrown, brown hair splayed over his forehead, threatening to fall into his eyes. He was hot, I'll give him that. Sexy ruffled hair, nice eyes even when he looked half dead, almost full lips, and a tall slender body.

Shaking the thought from my head, I scolded myself again. I have work for crying out loud! At least forget these things while you're doing your work. Of course, I should probably get my work first. And I haven't done so since Mr. Daylen hasn't so much as looked up or acknowledged me.

"Good morning." I said shakily. I was almost an hour late again, I didn't want to hear the scolding he had in store for me, much less see the work he'd inevitably piled up. Just thinking about the aching hand burning eyes made me wonder why I do this.

He looked up through his glasses, like he'd just noticed me. To my surprise, he didn't say anything about me being late when he pointed to a mail bag. "We sent out a postcard polls in one of our magazines last week. Separate the answers then bring them back to me."

I took the bags without another word, heading to the place they had all the interns work. There were a few desks and a giant table in the middle with six or seven kids about my age sitting around. People came and left as the days passed, I didn't blame them. It was more work than I expected too, when I first came here. All the work that the editors didn't do or didn't have time for would be dropped down to us. As soon as an editor got a new protege, they started doing significantly less work and had significantly fewer bags under their eyes, not to say they still weren't the walking dead.

But it was a little too much to put on high school students. They act like this is our full time job instead of just something second to school. We still had homework and social lives to attend to, not that anyone had much of a social life after becoming affiliated with this place. All you want to do in your free time is sleep instead of what you have to, so calling your friends is almost a never. If my friends weren't who they are and didn't come over my house uninvited, my social life would be nothing too.

I sat at the usual desk in the farthest corner, as far from everyone as possible. There wasn't much interacting in here, but whenever there was I felt oddly secluded. No one really wanted me to be there, so I acted like I didn't either. It felt better to act like a bitch and ignore everyone than feel left out while trying to interact with them. And it got my work done faster, not that my work ever actually got finished, but it meant Mr. Daylen would yell at me less when I left.

Sighing, I went through the hundreds of postcards, reading some of the few 'other' spots that were filled out. They would probably never get read other wise. Not because no one but bored interns cared, but because no one had any time.

I finished, having just enough time to bring it all back to Mr. Daylen then go find something to eat for lunch. Or work through lunch again, I did still have that book report I haven't finished. Salem and I may have the same AP English class, but our teacher randomly picked one book out of three to have us read. I'd ended up with the Catcher in the Rye while Salem got Catch-22, so I had a reason why he couldn't do my homework, no matter how much he offered and demanded. Salem even said he'd read the book for me and do two reports so I could sleep instead.

He's more worried about how much sleep I get than me, offering to do everything for the past few weeks just so I would go to bed. I had to admit, I wanted to take him up on some of his offers since school started. I'd been exhausted with this work, chores, studying, and the little bit of homework Salem left for me. But I never did. I had to do things without him, it's my senior year and I have that goal to be independent and all that.

Plus, when he does that it does feel like he only wants to help me, I can't overlook that. But it also makes me feel like he only wanted me out of the way, like me being awake is intruding on him and his business. Putting me to sleep is a perfect way to get rid of me as a distraction, like Carmen does with Silvia, our little sister. Of course, putting me to sleep won't help with the way Hayden screams. It's more of a loud, rough groan if I think about it, like a bear growling out of anger. Only it's a teenage boy yelling out of pleasure.

Not wanting to think about my brother's sex life, I filled my mind with hopes of actually getting food to eat for lunch today. It's been so long, I couldn't remember the last time I've eaten something besides a piss-poor dinner.

Approaching Mr. Daylen's desk, I had the thoughts of greasy pineapple pizza with stringy cheese and steaming sauce running through my mind.

"I'm done." I said as I set the paper bags on the corner of his desk.

Looking up, he had his usual scowl, disrupted by a yawn. "Took you long enough. Here." He handed me a piece of paper between his finger with an address scribbled on it. "I need you to go here, make him finish the last few pages of his rough draft, and bring it back here. He's been giving his editor a hard time and she finally snapped."

"Oh, uh, but wouldn't you rather have someone else go get it?" I asked, just wanting a excuse to go eat. "I'm not a people person. I don't think he'll even want to let me in."

"Don't worry about that." His smile made me feel uneasy, like something unsettling was lurking behind it. "He likes boys."

A chill went down my spine but I ignored it as I thought about reminding Mr. Daylen that I didn't have a car. I decided not to because I've never met any authors at all, much less gone to ones home or office. I loved books. It's exiting to be able to actually be needed in part of the process of getting one done. Not that anyone else couldn't have gone to get the manuscript, but I pushed that thought aside and enjoyed it.

"Okay..." The creepy factor of his sentence was not lost. "What is his name?"

Waving me off again, he looked back to his work as if I'd already left. "You'll know when you get there."