Disclaimer: I don't own Code Lyoko.
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"Odd!" I growl out from under my pillow. One thing about Odd is that he has the most obnoxious laugh I've ever heard. He says the girls love it but I think that's total crap. And staying up all night watching comedy shows on his laptop—with or without headphones—is something that annoys the hell out of me when I'm trying to sleep.
He looks over at me. "Come on Ulrich! Don't tell me you've never seen this show. It's hilarious!" he grins, tilting his laptop so I can see a bunch of purple monsters dancing around the screen.
I stuff the pillow back over my head. "You're crazy. I give up." I'm not generally much for giving up. But what's a guy to do? I hate having Odd as a roommate. Okay, sometimes I like it. I mean, we are friends after all. But sometimes…I want to kill the guy.
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And, as can always be expected, the next morning he's fallen asleep on the laptop and drooling. I snicker because I know he'll have keyboard face for at least the next couple of hours. And that's all the revenge I need.
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My arm hurts like hell but I'm trying not to show it. I keep jiggling my foot absently, nervously looking at Sissi, because the facts are, I just don't want to be with her. I mean, I don't know. Maybe she's a good person under all the glitter and blackmail. But that doesn't really change the facts.
I glance around at the barren, creaking walls of the old elevator. Dirty water is dripping slowly, ominously, like something you'd see in a horror movie. Drip. Drip. I shift my bandaged arm just the slightest bit. In the corner, she looks back at me.
Sissi wrapped up my arm and I said something decent to her. Beyond decent, nice actually. And I don't know what to say anymore.
It's not like I ever thought she was deranged or evil or anything. Close but not quite. We joked about this all the time. Why is it that it doesn't seem funny anymore? The annoying voice is still there, the makeup, the pink clothes, but it's all missing the attitude and I don't know what to do.
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Odd looks straight at me with his puppy dog face, which doesn't accomplish much since it looks like he learned it from Kiwi. I have to wonder what he wants now. Knowing Odd—and his face—it's nothing good.
"Ulrich, I've got a little problem with Yumi. You've really got to bail me out this time."
When I think back on all the times that I've bailed Odd out, it seems like I've spent at least a third of my life getting him out of trouble.
I just listen while Odd explains without really explaining anything. His evasive techniques are really impressive, but right now they're just getting on my nerves. I hate lying outright to my friends, and I'm not really sure that whatever is going on is just "a little practical joke", as Odd promises me. I fiddle with one of the foosball handles as he speaks, my little player going up and down, up and down. He isn't giving me any real answers, not like that's a surprise.
I don't know why I give in. Odd has this way of needling me, getting under my skin so that I have to swat him away by agreeing to whatever weird plan he has. I finally just tell him okay so that he'll stop whining and invoking our friendship. It's when he says "Lyoko warrior's honor" that I know I'm in trouble.
Then you barge in, seething, and then Sissi comes in and it's all a very annoying buzz in my head, and I know I've made yet another mistake that won't be so easy to get out of.
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(What's really startling is the way you look betrayed, like I've showed everyone your greatest secrets. The surprise, the painful surprise that cuts into my ears. And the way your voice changes—with Odd you were angry, but comfortably, because he's just a friend who will do things like that to you. But with me—it's different, isn't it.)
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Jeremie is tapping loudly on his keyboard while I sit, back to him, on the step.
"Nope, nothing," he says to me. I nod. More noises come from the computer—beeps, signals, error codes, a clicking language, harsh and swift, that only Jeremie understands. There's nothing for me to do but tune it all out.
I'm a little annoyed with Jeremie, sometimes, when it feels like he'd rather speak to cyberspace than to me. I know I'm rash and quick to anger and quietly judgmental and all that. I know he doesn't quite grasp it, not as well as the rest of us. But I'm willing, because it's worth it to be his friend.
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Odd sits down with a heaping plate of spaghetti drenched in marinara sauce. Extra meatballs roll around his plate and onto his tray.
"Looks like you bribed Rosa again," I observe, a smile twitching slyly at my lips.
"There's no bribing necessary!" Odd retorts. "Rosa loves me!" He stabs his fork firmly into the pasta, and that's when the massacre begins.
Just a few seconds later, we're all watching Odd try to slurp about a pound of spaghetti at once, red sauce splattering his face. Jeremie has a look of horror. You are looking pointedly away, while I can't take my eyes off of the carnage unfolding before me. Aelita, lucky princess, has not arrived in time to witness the spectacle.
Marinara sauce flies over to hit me on the chin, and I make a face and I wipe it off gingerly with a napkin. "Watch it, Odd," I growl.
"What?" he asks innocently, mouth full, showing the chewed-up contents of his mouth. Jeremie groans. "Gross, Odd."
Odd makes a move to say something back, but before he can open his mouth again, we all shout, "Don't!"
"Fine," he mumbles. While he goes back to stuffing his face, we all sigh in relief but keep our eyes down on our plates.
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Black hair swishing, skirt fluttering ridiculously over her jeans, my nightmare in pink struts over to my table. I roll my eyes before she can even open her mouth. I find that if I get a sarcastic comment in before anything she says, it speeds our 'conversation' up. An eyeroll is a toned-down equivalent. I've spent a lot of time cataloging Sissi's reactions. It helps that she's predictable, too. A hand on her hip, she scolds me with a combination of indignation and flirtation.
I can see your scowl from the corner of my eye, and for some reason, it makes me chuckle. For the same reason, I guess, this makes Sissi think I'm laughing at her. She looks offended. "Ulrich dear, I haven't even told you the punch line yet!"
That's an easy one. I cock my eyebrow. "That's all right, Sissi. You're enough of a punch line for me." She can't even decide whether I'm complimenting her or insulting her—she never learns.
In my peripheral vision, I see you open your mouth, probably to tell my persistent stalker to go away. Before you can say anything, I put in another biting comment and she stalks off. It's weirdly comforting, our little patterns. I don't want to admit it, but part of me sort of enjoys baiting Sissi, finding the right combination of words and expressions to make her strut away. That's not very nice, but I'll own up to my flaws. Honestly. In some situations she can be a really great person, but mostly, she deserves it.
I think.
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Dirty water cascades in, a waterfall in an elevator, and I can't help thinking that this would make a really cool movie. An artsy movie maybe, where the characters share their deepest thoughts before the flood engulfs them and they drown.
It's coming close to the end, though. Either Aelita deactivates the tower or she doesn't. I'm choking and the water tastes disgusting, so rusty, and I can't swim with one broken arm. Sissi is doing a little better. I made a promise to her, that I'd be nicer to her if we made it out of this alive. Here is where I pledge, to myself this time, to keep that promise.
And I know that if Aelita puts in the code in time and Jeremie hits the right button and the white light engulfs us all—if we return—that Sissi won't be any different for it. And for a second I pity her, that her experiences can't shape her like mine can. I picture her resetting herself every time, regressing, going back. She'll just be the same person, over and over again, wearing the same overly girly clothes and trying the same cheap tricks to seduce me. She'll still say the same ridiculous things and hang over our table at lunch in the same way. Nicolas and Herve will still follow her like she's the greatest thing in the universe and she won't do a thing to encourage them because she's too busy tearing them down. I know it. Sissi will never stop annoying me. But I'm going to try to give her a taste of what she's forgotten. And maybe the cycle won't keep circling without an end.
The water closes over my head and all my panicked philosophical thoughts fade as I desperately try to conserve my breath. For Sissi, this is it. She doesn't know. But I keep trying to stay afloat, paddling with my good arm, squeezing my eyes shut until everything really goes black.
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In my room at night I lay on my back, the glow of Odd's laptop separating shadows on my bed. This time he's playing some sort of computer game, fiddling with the arrow keys and jabbing frantically at the spacebar. I just roll my eyes and turn to face the wall. That's my roommate, folks. It's an interesting question, why so much of my annoyance stems from Odd. Counting every single one of his practical jokes is guaranteed to put me to sleep. While Odd groans in disappointment and abuses his keyboard, I pop in some earplugs, close my eyes, and go to sleep.