Nerdz For Life

I’m standing in the kitchen, looking across the counter at Patches. He’s giving me an unattractive look with his big fat hands resting on the edge of the marble. Between us is a double fudge brownie with chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles on the top. It’s the last one, and it’s going to be mine.

“So, I heard what happened with you and Marlene today,” Patches says, starting to reach for the dessert until I match his move. He draws his hand back.

“Yeah, what about it?” I ask, inching my own hand closer only to draw it back again.

“Why don’t you just drop the big secret on the world, so she’ll get thrown off her imaginary throne?” He moves a little closer as I do, too.

“Because that would just hurt me, too.” I glance down at the brownie then back at Patches.

He looks at the brownie longingly. “Like you aren’t already the bottom of the totem pole?”

I keep my eyes steady on his face. “I’d rather be at the bottom than in the ground.”

He meets my eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to see her hurt?”

“More than anything in the world.” I snatch the brownie off the counter and take a bite. “But it’s just not worth it.”

He growls. “Fuck you.”

I jump on the counter. “Rule number one, big brother: Never take your eyes off the prize.” I smirk and take another bite.

He rolls his eyes and goes to the fridge to find something else. “And I also heard about the Dakota Chaim incident.”

I in turn roll my eyes at that. “Well, you know what? He deserves it. I feel worse for his dick than I do for him.”

“’Cause you want that dick in you?” he asks, turning from the fridge and smiling sardonically.

“Do you want a knife in you?” I ask.

He chuckles and goes back to scouring the refrigerator. “Admit it. You like him. Maybe not in a mental sense, but you want him.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a guy,” he says, pulling a plastic container full of chili out and setting it on the counter.

I take another bite of my delicious, delectable brownie. “Because guys are so knowledgeable on female emotions,” I drone sarcastically.

“Not all emotions. Just lust, and you, sister dearest, have a lot of lust towards that boy.” He opens the chili container and shoves it in the microwave, pressing reheat.

“He raped a girl, Patches. You really think I want to do a rapist?” I look at him like he’s crazy, and he is so, you know.

“Well, before you found out he was a rapist. C’mon, Agdistis. All the girls wanted him and even you did. You can’t deny that.” He sits on the counter next to me.

“I can and I will.”

“Hey, butts off the counter, you two,” my aunt calls from the door.

“C’mon, Jess,” Patches whines.

Aunt Jess rolls her eyes. “Gabriel, get off the counter.”

Patches scoffs. “Fine, but would you stop calling me Gabriel?”

“That’s your name,” she defends.

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” Patches shoots back.

She rolls her eyes. “You two with your nicknames.” She glances at her phone for a moment. “Steele child number two, did you take a shower?”

“Aunt Jess, I am sixteen-years-old, and you’re still asking me that question?” I ask, feigning being offended.

“You also hang out with a group of boys and are raised by your father, so I ask again, did you shower?” she reiterates.

I frown. “Fine, I’ll go do it now.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile.

I hop off the counter and pound up the stairs. The sounds of my steps echo through the house. The bathroom awaits me at the end of the hall after I get clothes out of my room. I happily begin running the water, filling the bathroom with steam that coats the mirrors thoroughly. The shower is ready soon enough and I step in, letting the drama of the day wash off my body and swirl down the drain.
My thoughts drift subconsciously to the wounded Dakota Chaim. How could Patches think that I like that raging douche-monster? What a fucking ridiculous thought. I don’t want him or his injured dick anywhere near me.

Still, there is a bit of me that aches for Dakota. Being an outcast myself, the road can be rocky when you’re going alone. As much as I want to hate the fuck cupcake, I can’t help but feel a sprinkle of sympathy towards the modern Paris’ misfortune. I figure when he’s not being a sex-obssessed caveman, he’s probably pretty nice. That doesn’t, however, destroy the part of me that feels like the asshole got what he deserved. Deity knows that he got what he deserved, not just in getting kicked in the meat stick. The whole general idea of him being put in his place after years of torturing the masses with his cold heart and hard cock. It’s not my fault that he’s a fucking ignoramus major. We’ll see where this road of shunnery leads him. Maybe to a black hole of sorts. One can only hope.

I finish up my shower and change into a Batman shirt and some red pajama shorts. Downstairs, Favreau and Patches are playing COD, failing epically. I hop onto the couch behind Favreau and pat his head platonically. He greets me with a distracted “Salut.” Patches is hammering away at the controllers like a squirrel on speed while Favreau is biting his lip in concentration.

“Has anyone seen Phantom?” I query, looking around for the boy in hopes of having some entertainment asides from the twin failures.

Patches shakes his head minutely. “Haven’t seen him since school. But c’mon, Ags. It’s Phantom. Do you really expect to see him here?”

I sigh. “Guess I’ll just be watching you two losers die multiple times…”

Favreau presses a button with a flourish. “Ha! I win!”

“Fuck!!” Patches wails, throwing his controller on the ground.

“Wow, Patches, that’s the second time today you’ve lost something.” I grin mischievously as he turns to glare.

“I swear, Agdistis. I will kill you. I know where you sleep.” His eyes grow dark and threatening, but I know it’s all in fun. Patches is a drama king.

“I know where Aunt Jess keeps the baby pictures. Try me, bitch.” My smile broadens at the same rate his eyes narrow.

“That’s it!” Patches jumps to his feet and lunges at me. I dodge him, his fingertips barely scraping my arm as I dart across the living room and up the stairs. He pounds up the stairs after me like a herd of hungry elephants who found their way to the only tree left in the entire savanna. Zipping like a gazelle, I fly into my room and slam the door after. My fingers flip the lock before Patches even reaches the door. He begins to bang on it while I flop onto my bed. “I will fucking murder you when you get out!”

“Save it, brother. We both know I’d kick your ass.” I let out a laugh and flip on the TV, settling in for the night in mental preparation for the next day of the prison known as school.