Infallible

“Lemme guess. You got an A,” a teasing voice said.

The owner of it laughed, his electric blue eyes lighting up as he gazed across the lunch table at me. I pouted, channeling all of my dramatic skills I had acquired after years of living with my sister.

“No,” I responded, my voice quivering for dramatic effect.

My head was bent over the paper, not meeting his eyes. My own eyes were focused on said starch white sheets of paper, which I gripped between my hands.

“A+?” he guessed again.

I shook my head, chocolate locks flying in the air around me and tickling my cheeks, but I did my best not to acknowledge them.

“I got a B,” I sighed finally, as if my world was ending, and laid my head against the faux-wood table.

It was cool against my warm forehead, and I shifted so my chin was on the table and I could watch him. He raised his eyebrows, letting out a low whistle. My frown deepened, and I braced myself for any sarcastic comments.

“Rylan Marie Gallagher got a B? On a test?” he asked incredulously, trying to keep the smirk off of his face.

I tried to look solemn, but the corner of my rose colored lips kept twitching up. I couldn't resist sarcasm; it was, after all, my second language.

“Shut up Brentley Michael Quinn. What did you get? A C-?” I countered playfully, watching him expectantly. He ran a hand through his wheat colored ringlets, pretending to look offended.

“C+ thank you very much. And what’s with the full name deal? You know I hate it when you do that,” he whined. I leaned over the table and our untouched lunches to ruffle his hair. He scowled and I grinned.

“You totally started that one. I was just following your lead.”

“Ry, you know better than to do as I do. I mean, you're supposed to be the smart one here! Then again... You did just get a B.”

I rolled up the stapled papers, smacking him over the head with them. He held his hands up in defeat, stabbing his plastic fork into the mystery meat. I eyed it suspiciously and gratefully took a bite of my good old PB&J. I knew exactly what was going into my mouth, unlike that unappetizing hunk of god knows what.

“You were right about something, Brent,” I said as I swallowed. “I am the smart one.”

I raised my eyebrows and grinned mischievously as Brent shook his head.

“The smart one who got a B on the Calculus test. Whatever will Max and Amelia say?”

I groaned, dropping her sandwich on the table. Crumbs fluttered in the air in the process, but I didn't give them any of my attention. Oh, what a lovely point he brought up. I could just see it now, my mom and dad's eyes popping right out of their heads as they went back and forth about how I would never get into a good school now.

“I don’t even want to think about my parents. I suppose Joel and Cassandra will throw you a party for that C+.” My voice dripped sarcasm, and just one look at Brent's good-natured grin made me smile, too.

“You know, I think Mom might even put it on the fridge.”

I ripped off a piece of the crust, hitting Brent right between the eyes. He quickly retaliated with a plump green grape, but missed. I shot him a haughty look, but he didn't even look back. Judging by the sudden silence of the tables surrounding us, he had hit someone, and that someone was not very impressed.

“Quinn, what the hell are you doing?” Corey Miller, star linebacker and Roseno High School senior, growled.

“Sorry. It won’t happen again,” Brent mumbled out quickly, cowering down in the bench.

I couldn't help myself. As Corey stalked back to his table, I was in hysterics, head thrown back in laughter and the whole nine yards. Brent glared; his porcelain cheeks still flushed a bright red. If looks could kill, I would have dropped dead right then and there. Unfortunately for him, they couldn't.

“Nice aim, Brent,” I choked out, the words mangled with laughter.

Brent gave an unimpressed glare, pushing his food around the plastic tray.

“I swear, Ry, if he beats me up after school, it’s all on you,” he grumbled.

“What, you don’t think you can take him?” I taunted.

“Okay, just because I’m taller than you, which isn’t hard, by the way, doesn’t mean I can take that brick wall.”

“Wuss.”

“Jerk.”

“It’s your own fault. You’re the one who decided to befriend me,” I pointed out before popping a potato chip in my mouth.

“I didn’t decide anything. Our parents had us on play dates before we were born,” he protested, and I had to give him that one.

“Speaking of, Mom and Dad wanted me to ask, well basically demand, that you all come over for dinner Friday. It’s some sort of fancy business thing, and quite frankly, if you don’t go I just might die.”

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled. They were just saying how it’s been too long.”

We simultaneously rolled our eyes, knowing very well our parents had just seen each other the day before. Our fathers had been best friends in their own high school days, and now they co-owned a company, which had exploded into a phenomenon. Long story short, I saw his parents just as often as I saw my own, and vice versa.

We ate in silence for a few moments, our eyes searching around the small lunchroom. Roseno, New York was a town of about 500, where everyone knew everyone from the moment they took their first life breath. It was something I both despised and loved; I mean, I've had the same friends since kindergarten, with the exception of Brent, who has been stuck with me since I was born a month after he was. Then again, everyone knew about my family’s success, and sometimes it just felt like everyone's watching, waiting for a chance to see me fall flat on my face. I pushed those thoughts from my mind as Brent snapped his long, thin fingers in front of my face.

“Ry, did you hear a word I said?” he inquired, an amused expression gracing his face. I bit my lip and shook my head, a guilty feeling washing over me. I wasn't nearly as good of a best friend as he deserved, and yet, he always stuck by me.

“Just thinking about stuff.”

His eyes searched mine, and he cocked a bushy blond eyebrow. I watched it disappear behind his long, curly hair for a few brief moments, reappearing when he took a sip from the bottle of water sitting in front of him.

“Well that’s not the least bit vague.”

I gave him an apologetic smile, twisting the cyan blue cap on my own flavored water. He stuffed some sketchy looking meat into his mouth, cringing a bit as it hit his taste buds. I fought back another laugh at his expense, instead trying to give the conversation my full attention.

“I could’ve been worse. What were you saying, anyway?” I pressed, balling up the empty brown paper bag that had held my lunch. It crinkled loudly, which annoyed the hell out of me, but at the same time it gave me something to do with my hands.

“I said, who else is all gonna be at the party?”

“Well, my parents, your parents, some other colleagues and employees, oh, and Aven is coming home for it," I added as nonchalantly as I could, but I could just feel the anger and resentment burning in the four letters that made up the she-devil's name.

“Your sister? The one who’s supposed to be at Harvard right about now?”

Brent watched me carefully, trying to find any signs of distress in my face, because he knew good and well that the last time I saw Aven, things hadn't been all that peachy. I knew him well enough to know that's exactly what he was doing; I was doing my best not to give him any reasons to worry about me.

“Yup, my parents insisted she make an appearance. She is, after all, the perfect daughter." I cringed just saying it, my whole demeanor crumpling in defeat.

“You know they love you, Ry,” Brent assured me, his words accompanied by a very stern look.

“Of course. But Aven never got a B,” I muttered bitterly, turning and tossing the paper bag into a trash can a few feet back. Once I did that, I wrung my hands together and watched my lap. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want Brent to have to give me this speech again. I just wanted to be as good as my sister for once in my life.

“C’mon Ry. I’ll show up, I promise. Maybe we can steal a champagne bottle while the folks aren’t looking. It’ll be fun, okay?” Brent vowed, and I looked back up at him, a soft smile tugging at my lips, despite everything. He had a way of making everything better for me, all the time.

“Good. ‘Cause otherwise, I swear, I would’ve thrown myself off of the fricken balcony.”

“Well, as interesting as that sight would be, I happen to like having you around. I’ll dust off my suit tomorrow.”

“Great. Thanks, Brent,” I whispered

Brent opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the sixth period bell. I quickly retreated in an attempt to beat the mob of people rushing to their lockers, my skirt swishing against my long, pale legs. Half way to the door, I stopped, looking back over at Brent. He had a determined look on his face, and I was guessing it had to do with cheering me up tonight. I was so, so lucky to have such a great best friend. I raised my hand in a wave, my fingers curling into my palm as I watched him. His face broke into a lopsided grin as he saluted, and I chuckled to myself before disappearing into the crowd and escaping to my next hour.