Al and Mel

He had that chick. I think her name was Whitney or something. Probably not. I suck at names. It took me three years to learn Cameron's name, and back then he was Cammy because I had a speech problem and couldn't pronounce his full name without stuttering and sometimes gagging on the syllables.

"Hey, Mel, Al." He grinned at us. "This is Riley."

"I thought your name was Whitney," I said rudely. Al giggled.

"Mel," Cameron warned. I glared at him. He sighed, and looked at Whitney. "Why don't you go find us a table, babe?"

"Okay." She kissed him—and took her time about it, too—before skipping away.

"Would I be an awful person if I asked you both to sit with us?" he asked, putting on his best puppy dog face. It wasn't nearly as good as mine, but a decent try. I'll have to give him pointers.

Al glared. "Why? To blow us off again?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, guys. I forgot how sacred our weekends are." He grinned playfully. "Please forgive me?"

Al and I looked at each other. Should we forgive him? I don't know. But he was our best friend...that blew us off for some cheap hoe. He's obviously trying really hard to win us back.

"Fine," we said. "We'll sit with you."

He gave us his signature lopsided smile. "Thanks. You girls are the best friends a guy could have."

"You know it," I said.

"At least, we hope you do," Al added.

So there we were, sitting with Cameron and his girlfriend as they sucked faces. It was nasty, but Al and I didn't say anything until it started crossing boundaries and getting really awkward.

"Can you please, umm, stop?" I asked, feeling embarrassed.

They broke apart. Cameron blushed adorably, but the hoe gave us a nasty look like as if she wished cannibalism wasn't frowned upon in this society.

"So, Whitney—"

"Riley," she snapped. "My name is Riley."

Cameron leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Probably an explanation as to why I don't give a shit about her name.

"Mel," Cameron said in his patient, I'm-your-best-friend-not-your-enemy voice, "her name is Riley. Can you say Riley?"

I glared at him. Just because I recently learned how to say Cameron didn't mean I couldn't say Riley. "Ri—" I choked on the last part. Grr... Totally not cool.

"Riley. Not—"

Cameron whispered in her ear.

"Quit talking about me like I'm not here!" I whined.

Al sighed. "Mel, it's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is."

Riley spoke up, "What's Mel short for?"

I smiled sweetly. "Mel is short for none of your stinkin' business!"

"Mel," Cameron warned. "Play nice."

I pouted, and ate some of my applesauce. Mmm... This is good eatin'. Note the sarcasm.

"So, you're both Cameron's friends?" Whitney asked.

"Since we were in diapers," Al answered.

Whitney nodded. "Cool."

She didn't make it sound very "cool". In fact, she sounded like she couldn't care less about Cameron's friends.

"So, Whitney—"

"Riley!" she snapped.

"Whatever. How did you and Cammy meet?"

"Cammy?" She started laughing at my nickname for him.

"Riley," Cameron tried to warn. She just continued on laughing.

"You know what, bitch, I don't have to take your shit all because you're Cameron's girlfriend. In fact—" I lifted up my plate of spaghetti. "I can do this."

I pulled the collar of her shirt out, and dumped the plate of food down her shirt. Well, some of it. Most of it ended up in her lap.

She shrieked, and stood up. "Are you going to let her do that to me?" she screeched at Cameron.

He looked at me like he couldn't believe what I had done. "That was uncalled for, Mel."

I glared. "You're defending her?" I yelled. "I thought we were friends, Cammy!"

"Not anymore." He looked at Riley. "Come on, let's get that stuffed off of you."

She smiled wickedly at us as Cameron escorted her away.

"I hate that bitch," Al said immediately.

I nodded in agreement. "Ditto."



I ran into the janitor's closet, attempting to lock the door but failing completely. I leaned against the door, sliding down slowly.

Maple syrup. They put maple syrup in my hair.

I felt hot tears spill out of my eyes as I remembered them pouring the thick, golden brown substance on my perfect blonde curls.

There was a knocking on the door I was leaning against.

"Al?"

"Umm... no..." an unfamiliar male's voice answered. "My name is Jake. Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not, Jake." I sniffled.

"Well, what's wrong?"

"Someone poured maple syrup in my hair after I spent hours curling it to perfection."

"That sucks. If someone poured maple syrup in my hair, then I'd be pretty upset, too." There was a moment of silence. "Mind if I come in? I have a big sister that has a recipe that could get that out."

I thought about it. "Sure."

I opened the door, and there stood about the most handsome guy in probably the entire world. Dark hair, dark blue eyes, and 6'2". He was tan and muscled without being bulky. He wore a shirt that said It pays to be this awesome, and dark blue jeans. For whatever reason, I knew I'd never forget this moment and every detail it beheld.

"H-hi," I stuttered.

He gave me a half-smile. "Hi." He studied my hair. "I think I can get rid of that." The bell rang. "Meet me after school in the parking lot. I help you with your problem there."

"Thanks, Jake."

"You're welcome, uh..."

"Mel," I said, smiling at him. "My name is Mel."

He smiled. Wow. He's got an amazing smile.

He left me feeling dazed and giddy. I think I'm in love.

I ran away, screaming for Al. "Al, Al, Al, Al!"

"What?" she asked irritably.

"I'm in looove!" I said dreamily. "His name is Jake, he's got blue eyes, dark hair, and is 6'2"."

"How do you know how tall he is?" Al asked.

"I'm just guessing."

"Well, it's probably not very accurate."

I glared. "I'm in love, and you're killing my mood."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just cranky because of Cameron."

I nodded in understanding.

"What happened to your hair?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."