Pictures on Silence

I cringed at the words I was forcing myself to read. Summer reading. Who needs it? Especially when it explicates the slaughter of pigs in the meat industry during the industrial revolution. I stuck out my tongue. I am definitely having a salad for dinner tonight, I decided.

Luckily, my cell started playing "Time To Dance" at that exactly moment, and it wasn't until my tricep felt like it was being ripped in half that I remembered the human elbow doesn't bend that way. "Brendon!" I exclaimed happily. "Thank you for being a distraction!"

Bren chuckled. "What? Boyfriend trying to get in your pants long distance or something?"

"Har, har," I said sarcastically, tossing the book onto the floor next to my bag. Penny Dreadful had returned to tour and three-fourths of them were currently pool-side, probably picking up girls. But not me, oh no. I had summer reading to do, because I wasn't in college yet. Stupid being born two years late. "Lyle is not my boyfriend."

"You guys have gone out twice; to him that qualifies."

"Okay, since when do you know the number of dates we've been on?" I demanded to know. "And that's stupid. Two dates doesn't amount to a hill of jellybeans. Plus one of those doesn't even count."

"Ryan called your house before you left and your brother said you went out with some guy," Brendon explained idly. "Besides, I could tell cause afterwards you were all girly and nauseating." I opened my mouth indignantly to argue, face heating, but he continued, "And I also tell you're blushing right now."

My teeth audibly clicked shut, making Brendon laugh his stupid cute little laugh. I made faces at the ceiling, pretending it was he. "Have you ever read Upton Sinclair's The Jungle?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Uh... no, I don't think so."

"Well, don't, unless you want to have nightmares about meat packing," I advised, shaking the image out of my head. "I mean, I can understand his intent of promoting socialism through the exposition of the problems the industry causes for workers, but he went about it all wrong. For one, Sinclair made more of a big deal about the meat. He should have--"

"Angie, you lost me at socialism," Brendon interrupted, trying not to laugh.

I snickered. "Good enough place to lose me as any, I suppose. But I'll spare you the lecture, as I have to call Lyle." I groaned exasperatedly. "He wants me to talk to his mom so we can 'get to know each other'." I stuck my tongue out at the ceiling.

"Your enthusiasm floors me," he said dryly. "Jeez, meeting his parents already, Ange? This guy doesn't waste time. If he proposes when you get back, tell him your heart belongs to a guy from Vegas whos rich, famous, talented, smart, funny, handsome to boot--"

"I get the picture, Corporal Pompous," I groaned, laughing. "But trust me, if he proposes, I'm flooring it the fuck out of there and hiding in your basement. Be seeing you."

I pulled on my trusty, somewhat falling-apart Converse and went out to the pool, squinting in the August sunshine, calling to the guys to stop being whores and get changed; we had a show in mere hours. I gagged luridly when Matt charmingly kissed this brunette's hand, making her and her compatriots giggle inanely.

After returning to our hotel room, I dialled Lyle's number with a sigh and waited. After three rings, a chirpy female voice answered, "Good afternoon, MacArthur residence, Missus MacArthur speaking."

I pulled the phone away from my ear and made an incredulous face at it. From just her voice, I could tell that Lyle's mother was the type of Stepford freak who always smiled no matter what and dressed like she had just crawled out of Pleasantville. I was seeing this something related to this?

But, oh, was she happy to talk to me.

So happy it made my head hurt after only three minutes and talking with her and Lyle. Or maybe that was her grating voice.

We talked-- well, they talked-- for a while before the guys came back in and Matt put on the Blood Brothers. I barely stifled a laugh when Mrs. MacArthur squeaked, "Good gracious! What is that awful racket?" and Lyle whined, "Agh! It hurts my head! Are those your friends, Angela? Make them turn it off!" I flagged Jesse down from thrashing around with the others and pointed at the phone, mouthing Lyle's Mom!; in response, he turned it up, and I smiled, shaking my head.

Thank you, Johnny Whitney.

Sadly, I had to move out to the porch where the music was mostly stifled. In the middle of Lyle relaying some humourless anecdote about their vacation in Fiji, my phone vibrated in my hand and beeped. I looked at the caller i.d. and smiled instantly. Ryan. "I'm very sorry," I said to the pair, who seemed a teensy bit put off at being interrupted. "I have a call on the other line."

I pressed a button and slouched in my chair for more comfort. "What's up, Ry?"

"Not much, Ange," he replied casually. "I was bored and figured I'd give you a ring."

I winced, remembering where I was and who was on the other line. "I'm on a sort of-not really date right now, Ryan. Can I call you back in a few hours?"

"Oh," Ryan said a little too loudly. "I didn't know. Sorry."

"'Salright, love. Talk to you later." I took a deep breath. Why am I shaking? I wondered, as I switched lines. And why am I somewhat relieved? Shrugging it off, I sighed and returned to complete and utter boredom.

~Ryan~

"Why did you do that?"

I spun around to face Brendon, standing with his arms crossed and his head slightly tilted to one side. "I told you she was meeting that Lyle guy's mom," he continued. Bren smirked mischievously. "Why ya lyin', Ry?"

I put my phone away and stretched casually. "I'm not lying." I'm totally lying. "I just forgot is all." I didn't forget.

He nodded, unconvinced, and went back to whatever he was doing. I looked at the ceiling and bounced on my toes. "Does that make me a bad person?" I wondered to myself. Swallowing, I came back to reality and put into solid words what I thought it meant. And then I had to sit back down.

After a few minutes of frantic thinking, I scrambled around in my bag for a phone number I remembered I had. I needed a girl bad; any distraction would do.