Fancy Pants

-

I unhooked my phone from the car charger, and checked to see if that helped at all, but wasn’t able to.

The words CONNECT TO CHARGER flashed onto the screen before it went black. I cursed under my breath, clicking the lock button a few times, hoping it just went to sleep. But nope. It was dead.

Apparently I didn’t turn the screen off on my phone last night, so it was on all night. It somehow managed to ‘thankfully’ last until 6:00am to blast the alarm into my ear then die.

So, great. No phone to text my mom and let her know I was going to Tokyo Peking after school with David and Chance, so she’s going to end up having a conniption and I’ll most likely get grounded.

Cool - OH WAIT.

Car charger. Dead phone. Alone for eight hours.

Genius Dodge strikes again.

I set those two together and thanked my mind. Now if only I could get it to understand math.

I hid my phone under the blanket that was in here for some reason so that no one would see and steal it, then grabbed all my shit and took that shit with me into the school building. Cause shit, y’know.

None of my other classes are important to the story so I’m just going to skip to the one that is: Intro to Psych.

We talked about love today. Not only was it weird because Mr. Davis is a fifty-one year old man and he dappled a bit about sex, but because he used Emma and I as his ‘random’ examples.

I awkwardly looked back up at the clock for what might have honestly been the hundredth time.

11:40am.

Mr. Davis did the same.

“Well,” he began, shutting off the overhead projector, “Your homework for over the weekend is to meet up with your partner at some point - be it today or sometime over the weekend and do a bit of research on why we can’t tickle ourselves. I want some ideas written down as notes for Monday - maybe even a reflective draft by next Friday; I’m not planning to make the final copy due for a while, but a little brainstorming never hurt anyone. And I expect to see both of your handwritings on the notes, so no fibbing.” As he plopped himself into his swivel chair, he added, “For the last four minutes, discus where you’ll be meeting.”

Okay, it’s official. He went from being my favorite teacher to being number one on my hit list.

We’ve never had group projects for the first two quarters and now suddenly we do?

Bullshit.

“He just won’t give up, will he?” I seethed out quietly.

“I think not,” Emma murmured, sealing her lips together into a straight line. The sound of annoyance rang clear in her voice. Good, so at least I’m not the only one who hates him a bit now. She turned to me, bringing her legs into the chair. She crossed them, hands going to their normal spot.

“Where do you want to meet at?” she asked. “I do not know if my parents will agree with me at your home.”

“…Oh?”

Her eyes went big and she looked at me with regret. I guess I sounded a tad…hurt, partially because I was. I’m not some animal. I can control myself. Or try really hard to. Sometimes I despise the stupid stereotype people have of me. I hate that parents think all teenage boys just want one thing.

“Oh, no, no,” her voice was urgent and apologetic. “Not that they shouldn't - they're just a bit overprotective over everything. Always have and always will. It's kind of annoying. I'm a big girl. They can trust me.” She left no time for me to react before she opened her mouth again. “I could try to lie and say that I was going somewhere else, but I cannot lie to them. It physically pains me.” Again, no time between these thoughts she let spill out. “You want to come to my house? They will probably make us stay in the kitchen or the living room, but at least we have something down for Monday.”

I quickly answered with a “Yeah, that’s fine” before she opened her mouth again.

She smiled hugely, nodding. “Okay. When is okay for you?”

“Ahh…honestly, any time’s alright with me. I seriously don’t have a life.”

“Oh, me too. Is today after school okay?” She paused to look up, then quickly added, “My parents have a lot of things on any other day - and I'm sure they would want to meet you.”

She means ‘be there when you are.’

Not entirely okay with meeting any girl’s dad, but - “Okay.”

The bell rang. I told her I had a car so we could drive to her house. She hesitated but nodded - and oh crap. I forgot about David and Chance.

Oh well. They can go without me.

-

I gave the news to David first because I knew he’d understand - at least a lot more than Chance would. Chance has some type of abandonment/rejection issues. If you cancel plans with him, he thinks it’s all his fault, whereas if you cancel plans with David, he automatically assumes it because of a girl and because you’re screwing her.

Point is I can’t win with either of them, but David has yet to shed any tears unlike Chance.

Unfortunately, later that day, Chance came marching into study hall, looking not too happy. David was close behind him.

“Wha - dude,” Chance started his protest off with. “You’re ditching us for her? Is she some secret slut or something? Is she doing your homework? I don’t understand.”

His eyes suddenly grew big with fear and his voice dropped several levels.

“Is it something I did?” he squeaked.

David draped his hand over Chance’s shoulder, slapping his cheek, that usual crooked smirk on his stupid face. “Oh, don’t you get it, Chancey? He’s so obviously going to be popping that cherry tonight.” (Author: That was weird to type…) I rolled my eyes as he kept on blabbing. “Be happy for him; going where no man has ever gone before. Shit, she probably doesn’t even know what sex is. Explain what you’re gonna do before you do it or she might cry rape.”

Why am I friends with him? Oh, yeah. He doesn’t know how to fuck off.

“Ahh, rape joke,” I said tastelessly. “Go jump in front of train.” - I leaned forward like I was going to tell him a secret - “That was a nice way of telling you to go kill yourself.”

“Dude, chill,” he smirked with a nonchalant laugh before gripping Chance’s shoulders briefly. He said to Chance, “See? Lay off. He’s a bit grumpy, can’t you tell? Don’t be prick and ruin his opportunity to blow off some steam.” Apparently talking to me now, he said, “Why don’t you just go after that Gracie chick? She’s been waiting to get fucked by you for a while now.” He paused to chuckle sneeringly. “The slut.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing I could shot lasers out of them.

“Okay, you have lost the right to speak,” I snapped. “Go sit down.”

“Oh, come on! I was just joking.”

“Go.”

He let his mouth open slightly and tilted his head, like he was trying to decide if I was seriously pissed at him. The longer he stared, the more his smile fell. Then the bell rang. He shook his head with an exasperated sigh, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed Chance by the collar of his jacket and dragged him to the other side of the room to their seats.

That’s another thing I hate about him. He’s allowed to say all these things to you, order you around, but when you do it to him, it’s like you deceived him.

He’s such a hypocrite and he sure knows how to hold a grudge.

-

When I got to my locker, Emma was standing there, very closed off from everyone else. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. When she saw me, she gave a big smile, which I returned. I twisted in the combination and threw my History book into my locker.

She followed me out to the student parking lot and to my car. I made it all the way to my side of the truck without realizing she had stopped following me and was just standing there. I took a couple steps back so I could see what the hell she was doing.

She was staring at my beloved truck with a look I couldn’t read.

Oh crap. Was I supposed to open the door for her?

“…what?” I ended up asking in a more mixed tone than I wanted. I couldn’t decide whether I should be angry with her possible stuck-up way of thinking or worried that her assumptions of my life were actually all falling together one by one.

“This is it?” Her eyes flickered up. “Your car?”

I looked around briefly. “Yup.”

There was an insanely long pause and then she smiled. “I like this.” But then she quickly frowned. “But I don’t think my parents will.”

“Oh…”

Her smile returned as she skipped over to the passenger side. “It’s okay,” she assured, pulling open the door. “I like it, though. This is a nice blanket.” I watched her pick up a corner of the blanket my phone was hidden under. She rubbed the material between her fingertips and giggled. “Very soft, yeah.”

I almost bashed my head into the roof of the car just to see if I was actually alive.

I felt…relieved. And terrified. Really, really terrified. They’re going to hate me. All parents do. I swear, if you look at my birth certificate, it’s guaranteed.

I slipped into the driver’s seat, then remembered something horrible.

The Plot in You. I have the CD playing on my way to school like I always do. I didn’t pause it this morning. Just turned off the car. I don't know if that meant anything, but I wasn't into taking any chances. She’s going to have a heart attack when she hears it.

I ever-so casually reached my hand towards the volume knob, cranking it all the way to the left and prayed that was the direction I needed it to go. I hoped for the best and stuck the keys into ignition. Instant relief fled in when silence filled the car.

I asked her for directions to her house. She told me the address. I knew where that was and it was about twenty or so minutes away, so I grabbed a case of CDs out from the glove compartment and handed them to her.

“You can pick something to listen to; there’s bound to be something you like.” I’m pretty sure one of my girly chick friends left her NeverShoutNever CD in here.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that band…

Her head bobbed up and down as she grabbed it from me. “Okay.” Seconds after I back out
she grinned. I looked to see she was thumbing through the CDs. “ I like this bands.” Let’s all just take a moment and go ‘aww’ because she said ‘this’ instead of ‘these’.

Aww.

Ahah, just kidding, illiterate bitch.

Sorry. I’m in shock.

I choked on nothing and stared at her, wide eyed for a couple seconds then tried to look back at the road. “You do?” Her smile grew and she nodded.

“Yes, very much.”

I think I’m falling in love.

First she likes this piece of crap truck and now my music? What other surprises does she have lined up?

We parked about half a block away in an alley. We decided this was easier than having my heart ripped out and danced on. And when we got to her house, I completely understood why.

O-okay, when I said surprises, I meant good ones. This - this is just gonna make me want to sit in a corner and sob.

It was a three story house that looked like the White House. Why three stories? Who needs more than the max of two? What do they have up there? I’m curious now.

The mansion was even fenced in with a gate I’ve seen portrayed in many paintings as the gate that leads into Heaven. Her house had gardens, fountains, a garage for fifty, swimming pools, tennis and basketball courts.

My jaw dug its way to China, stopped halfway and struck oil.

“Holy…shit," was all I could manage. There were no words in any language that could express what I was feeling at this moment. I was absolute trailer trash compared to her.

“Hey!” she whined, waving her finger in a scolding fashion. “No cussing.”

“…sorry.”

She walked towards the front door. I still needed a few more minutes to stop drooling.

Was I really prepared for this?

I shook my head and followed behind. The door was white marble with black marble speckled in. Some viney thing dangled down from either side of the porch. There was a keypad next to the door. Emma typed in a zillion digit password.

She pushed the door open and I walked in behind her.

This place was fucking huge. And guess what? There was a spiraling staircase made of some more goddamn marble. There were statues everywhere, it was kind of scary. And oh look - a chandelier, some paintings, a dead animal gutted into carpet in the other room.

"This place...is amazing."

She smiled and turned away, hands cupping the banister of the stairs.

“Mama! Papa! I’m home! And I brought a friend!”

Papa? Nuh-uh. Fuck that. I immediately fell apart on the inside. I had the strong urge to run.

The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood flooring made me have to pee.

“May I take your backpack, sir?”

I turned and saw a freaking butler - or some dude in a suit trying to jack my shit. When did he get here?

I shot a look to Emma, then slowly back to him. “Uh. Sure.” I pulled it off and handed it to him. I blinked, “Thanks-” and he was gone.

I’m scared. He better not be doing that a lot. Like, what if - hypothetically speaking - Emma and I ended up doing it and then I look up and there he is with my clothes in his hand? All like, “Should I wash your laundry?”

idk.

Geez. It’s been like two years and her mom and/or dad are still walking here. I can hear the heels. I think it’s her mom.

How huge is this house? A centuries passed by and they’re still not here.

Just then, the set of clacking heels grew louder. Both Emma and I’s necks jerked up towards the top of the stairs. A woman came down the spiral staircase. She looked expensive. And like she could kill me. I’m dreading seeing her dad.

Where is that dude anyway?

She had a big smile on her face until I was in her view.

“Well, that is not a girl,” she said perplexed. Her voice wasn’t what I expected at all. Nothing like Emma’s. She sounded mature, almost no trace of an Italian accent. Very elegant.

Well, color me confused.

Emma let out a small laugh, taking her mom’s hand. “No, Mama. This is my partner in Psych. He’s named Dodger. We have to work on paper together.”

Her mom turned to me and looked me up and down, then she looked at Emma then back at me, a smile suddenly fixed on her face. I gulped. Her hand appeared, open for mine. I wearily went for it. She held my hand in hers and squeezed it, releasing a laugh.

“You call that a handshake, dear?”

I began to stammer. “Well…I didn’t want to break your hand.” Her laugh rang out again. Emma joined her.

I wasn’t joking, but okay.

She placed a hand on my shoulder, letting go of my hand. “Well, aren’t you a card!” Human, actually. Her laughter died down into a sigh. “Do you want a drink or something to eat?” she offered, heading towards what I assumed to be a kitchen, because it had all the kitchen things in it.

I didn’t know what to say. I felt dizzy and I had to pee. I turned to Emma, hoping she knew if and what I wanted. By the look on her face, I think she understood that I was mentally dead at the moment.

“Uh, no, Mama. We’re fine, I think.”

I heard her mom say alright. Emma gestured up the stairs, “Let’s go,” but a couple steps up, her mom’s voice nearly made me crap myself.

“And where do you think you’re going?” she inquired, hands on her hips. Her eyes went to me.

“Uh -”

Rightfully not expecting a sensible response, they blinked to Emma.

“Upstairs,” Emma answered before going silent. “Isn’t that okay?”

Her mother’s index finger uncurled as she pointed at me, then to Emma, then to herself. “Do I look like an idiot?” I was tempted to answer, but she did for me by shaking her head. She tipped a nod towards the living room.

“You guys can work in the living room.”

“We need a computer,” Emma informed her. “The only one is in the study.” Whaaa - all this money they obviously have and only one computer. wtf. why?

Her mom’s eyes narrowed at her and then at me. I could feel them slice a warning into my brain.

Touch her and die.

Got it.

“Fine.” A smirk curled its way onto her face. “Oh, Herald!” she called with a hint of superiority. Her voice echoed throughout the entire house and returned five times. I glanced at Emma when I heard her groan, stomping her feet against the marble flooring of the staircase.

Is Herald her dad? The need to pee became intense.

I looked away from Emma and nearly fainted. The butler was suddenly standing next to Emma’s mother. She whispered something to him in what I’m guessing was Italian. Maybe French. It did not sound English. I looked back at Emma who had this really obvious annoyed look on her face, then back at her mother and -…where’d he go?

The butler dude was gone. Her mother was just standing there with a big grin on her. She waved us off.

“Well, go on then,” she urged. “You can use the computer in the study. Your father will be home soon.” A satanic smile formed. “I’m sure he’d love to meet your…new friend.” Then she walked away.

I have a feeling Emma and I will not be alone. Herald is going to be creeping.

I mentally sighed, following Emma up the stairs.

I did it. I met her mom and her ninja of a butler. I can meet her dad.

Can’t I?