| Disclaimer - See part one
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"Are you hiding somewhere behind those eyes?
I just freeze everytime you see through me
And it's all over you
Electric blue
In too deep, standing here waiting
as I'm breaking in two
Electric blue"
- "Electric Blue", Icehouse
"Yeah, hi. Is Isabel there?"
"Wait a sec." replied Isabel's younger brother, Lucas, who was a sophomore at
their school. "Michael!" she heard him yell. "Can Isabel come to the phone?"
Ashley gasped. Michael was over there? With Isabel?
"You mean Michael, as in-," she started, but she didn't get a chance to finish her
sentence. Lucas let out a snort and then burst into gales of laughter.
"You-thought-"
"No I didn't." she snapped. "Is Isabel coming or not? I have important news for
her."
"Is-a-bel!" he yelled. Seconds later, the phone was snatched away.
"Hello?" Isabel asked.
"You would not believe who called me!" Ashley burst out excitedly.
"Tom Cruise?" she asked sarcastically.
"No, Michael did!" she squealed.
"Oh." Isabel said, sounding disappointed. "I thought it might have been someone
important."
"Come on Iz." Ashley begged. "Give him a chance!" Because if you don't, I owe
Sean twenty dollars. she added silently.
"What did he want anyway?" Isabel asked.
"Guess?" she asked, but continued without waiting for an answer. "Michael's
parents own like, every sports arena in the state, and he's got us all free tickets
to see the Lakers play tomorrow!"
"Yay." Isabel replied, without enthusiasm.
"Come on , try to act more excited! When was the last time you got free tickets
to a Lakers game from a really hot guy?" Ashley wheedled. If Isabel wouldn't
even come to a basketball game with him and a whole group of friends, how was
she supposed to get her to go on a real date, alone, with Michael?
"I'm not coming." Isabel said flatly.
"Why not?" Ashley demanded. "You've known this guy for less than a day. How
can you take a dislike to him so easily?"
"He's already got a girlfriend, anyway."
"He what?" Ashley asked increduously.
"They were at Giovanni's the other day." she confirmed. "That's where I saw him
before."
"Oh." was all Ashley could say. Michael has a girlfriend? He has a girlfriend?
"Look," said Isabel. "I'll come under one condition."
"What's that?" Ashley asked hopefully.
"You let me drive."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Hi Isabel." Michael said smoothly, running a hand through his slick dark hair.
"Glad you could make it." He cleared his throat.
"Hey babe." he said, winking. "Come join the party."
"Look, I know you kinda took a dislike to me the other day-"
Who was he trying to kid? She probably wouldn't even come. And then he had
Miranda to think about.
"Oh man." he groaned, flopping down on to his king-sized bed. He couldn't stop
thinking about her. Those gorgeous blue eyes. Her silky dark hair. That
breathtaking smile. Her-
"Mikey!" Bella, his family's housekeeper screeched. "Some girl on the phone for
you!" Michael sat up and picked up the extension outside his bedroom. He
couldn't stand having a phone so close to his bed.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Uh, hi Michael." Isabel answered. Michael's heart skipped a beat. She called
him! She actually called him! Quickly he glanced at the number displayed on the
caller ID screen. 527-6618.
"Hey Isabel." he answered in what he hoped was a relatively calm voice. "How
are you?"
"Pretty good thanks." she replied. "Uh, I was just calling to say I could come to
the game tomorrow." His heart sommersaulted.
"That's great!" he said enthusiastically. "Do you want me to pick you up? Should
I meet you there? Do you know how to get to the arena?" Mentally, he kicked
himself. He was nervous, and he was rambling. Shut up. His brain commanded.
"It's all right." she replied. "I'm going with Sean and Ashley. What time does the
game start?"
"About seven." he said. "I'll meet you at the main entrance on Walker Boulevard
at six. That all right with you?"
"Fine." she replied, rather curtly. "I'll see you then. Bye." The phone clicked and
he hung up. Smiling, he stared at the piece of paper on which he had written
Isabel's number. Suddenly he picked up the phone again and dialed information.
"Can I please have the address of a Carter family at 527-6618?" he asked in
what he considered to be his "polite voice".
"Just hold on a minute." Seconds later the voice returned. "I'm sorry, but we
couldn't find a Carter family at that number." Michael frowned. Where had Isabel
been calling from then?
"We found a Goodwin family at that number though." the voice continued.
"Would you like to try them?"
"Yes please." he mumbled. Quickly he jotted down the name and address.
"Thank you." he said and hung up. Was Isabel's family listed under a different
name? Was she calling from somewhere else? It wasn't Ashley's number, he
knew that. Almost shakily, he dialed Isabel's number.
"Lance Goodwin." a man's voice answered the phone.
"Uh...can I please speak to Isabel?" he asked.
"Who's calling?" Lance continued.
"Jason." he lied. "Jason Daniels."
"Hold on a moment."
Smiling, Michael hung up. Reaching for his electronic organizer, he accessed his
address book.
Isabel Carter
1105 West Renaud Street
Carrington NJ
527-6618
Perfect.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I need a hairdryer." Ashley groaned as she stood in Isabel's bathroom,
examining herself in the mirror.
"Why?" Isabel asked, poking her head out of the wardrobe.
"I spilled water all over my top." she said, pointing to the dark stain on her pale
green V-neck. "Sean's going to be here any minute, and I'm in ruins!" She buried
her face in her hands and pretended to sob.
"You're ruined?" Isabel asked increduously. "I've lost one of my shoes, my
hairclip is broken, I can't find my wallet, and I didn't even want to go out in the
first place!"
"Calm down." Ashley said reasonably, unwinding the cord of the hairdryer. "I saw
your wallet in the kitchen, and your shoe is under the bed. Just leave your hair
out." She switched the dryer on to high and a God-awful buzzing filled the room.
"Thanks Ash." she replied, and headed downstairs to get her wallet.
"Ready for your big date?" Lucas teased as she walked into the lounge. He sat in
front of the TV with a bowl of instant pasta in his hands.
"There's sauce all over your shirt." she said pointedly, not answering his
question. She grabbed her wallet from the kitchen bench, only to find that it was
near-empty.
"Lucas?" she asked. "Can I borrow a few bucks?"
"You'll have to pay me interest." he said, not looking up from the screen. "As
your financial advisor, I recommend 50% per annum."
"Get real." she replied, rolling her eyes. "Cough it up or I'll tell Troy that you
stole his dirty magazines before he left." Troy was their older brother, and he
was a freshman at USC.
"But I didn't-" Lucas protested.
"I know." she said, grinning. Lucas glared at her and pulled a few crumpled bills
out of his pocket.
"Have a good time Iz." he said, and turned back to the baseball game.
Upstairs, Ashley was leaning back in Isabel's desk chair, scanning the back cover
of a worn paperback novel.
"This is a great book." she said, pointing to Isabel's copy of The Boys from Brazil.
"You should read it."
"I am reading it doofus." was Isabel's reply. "In fact, I-"
"Ashley! Isabel!" Lucas hollered from the bottom of the stairs. "Sean's here!" As
they ran down the stairs, Ashley jumped into Sean's arms and giggled, giving
him a passionate kiss. Isabel felt a slight wave of envy. When was the last time I
had a chance to kiss a guy like that? she wondered.
"Ready to go?" Sean asked, one arm still around Ashley's waist. Isabel nodded
her head.
"Lucas, remember to tell Mom that Lance called to say he'd be home late." she
reminded her brother as she slammed the door. Lance, their stepfather, was a
merchant banker, and he often had to work late at nights. She sighed. What
would it matter? Lucas would probably forget anyway.
"I'm glad to see we have your driving expertise to rely on tonight." Sean said
dryly as Isabel slipped into the driver's seat. "I didn't think you'd even come
tonight."
"Yeah, well," she said. "It was either run the risk of both of you being killed in a
car crash." she gave a meaningful glance at Ashley. "Or act as your escort
tonight to ensure you arrived there in one piece."
"Of course." Ashley said sarcastically. "And it wouldn't have anything to do with,
say, a really cute guy who's got the hots for you?"
"Want me to run us all off the road?" she replied sweetly.
"Forget I said it." Ashley said. "Keep driving."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Who's winning?" Ashley asked for about the hundredth time that evening.
"Phoenix." Sean replied, holding a loaded hotdog near his mouth. "The team with
the ball." he expanded.
"Oh."
"Are you enjoying the game?" Michael asked Isabel as LA managed to take the
ball away from the opposition. Isabel nodded her head.
"Thanks for inviting us."
"No problem." he said.
"Why didn't you ask your girlfriend?" she asked suddenly.
"Miranda? We broke up." he said softly.
"I'm sorry." she replied, immediately feeling uncomfortable. When did they break
up? Had she misjudged him? Slowly, he snaked his arm around the back of her
seat, but she didn't say anything. Truth is, I don't want to. she thought with
dismay.
Michael felt a shiver of excitement as he felt her hair touch the back of his hand.
She hadn't shrugged him off, he realized happily. Suddenly he was overcome
with an urge to kiss her. Stop it! he demanded furiously. Pull yourself together,
man! But it was no good. His face was only inches away from hers; he could
practically feel her breath on his cheek. Overcome with emotion, he leaned
towards her. Suddenly, his lips almost touching hers, he felt a sharp stinging
sensation as she slapped him. Isabel grabbed Ashley by the arm and dragged her
out of the arena.
"What happened?" Ashley cried as they stood outside the main gate.
"He tried to kiss me." Isabel stated. Ashley shuddered. You could almost feel the
rage in her voice.
"You sure he was actually going to kiss you?" she asked weakly. "Maybe you're
just over-reacting."
"I am not over-reacting!" Isabel said, stomping her foot childishly. Ashley
sighed.
"Did you want to leave?" she asked. Isabel shook her head.
"You go back inside." she told Ashley. "It's nearly over anyway. I'll just wait out
here."
"You sure?" Ashley asked, concerned. "I mean, we can go now if you like."
"I wouldn't want to ruin the rest of your night." Isabel replied. "I'll see you in
ten, okay?"
"Sure." said Ashley. Michael, you really screwed up this time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Date: Sat, 06 Apr 2000 10:54:16 -0000
To: a.wilson@pwh.zzn.com
From: m.bowman@pwh.zzn.com
Subject: (none)
Ash, what am I supposed to do about Isabel? You saw her after the game, she'd
hardly even look at me! I've really screwed up this time, haven't I?
Mike
Date: Sat, 06 Apr 2000 11:11:29 -0000
To: m.bowman@pwh.zzn.com
From: a.wilson@pwh.zzn.com
Subject: Re: (none)
No offense, but yeah, you really did screw up this time. I can try to talk to her if
you like, but I don't know if it'll do much good. Isabel is awfully stubborn when it
comes to these things. We had a big fight once, back in junior high, and she
wouldn't talk to me for over a month! Anyway...you have to find a way to really
say sorry. You know, suprise her by doing something nice. Figure it out yourself
though, cuz I have no idea what would work on her.
PS: It's 11:11! Make a wish that she'll forgive you!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Michael double-checked the address he had written on the back of his English
notebook. 1105 West Renaud Street. This was it. Taking a deep breath, he
knocked on the door. No answer. He tapped his foot impatiently. He'd wanted to
be here before Isabel got home so that he could apologize for what had
happened at the game. He only hoped she would listen to him. Sighing, he
pushed the door open he stepped inside.
"Anybody home?" he called again, not wanting to intrude on the family. His eyes
glanced over the tasteful furniture, and the portraits and paintings that hung
from the walls. Whoever had decorated this place had flair.
Curiously, he proceeded up the spiral staircase. I wonder which one of these is
Isabel's room? he thought. It didn't take much pondering. Quietly, he pushed on
the door which read 'Isabel's room. Do not enter unless you bring chocolate'.
While the room was not as tidy as the others, it wasn't lacking personality. A
large overstuffed beanbag sat in the far corner, and a collection of trophies (most
of which appeared to be from gymnastics and martial arts) adorned the top of a
bookcase. Photographs and framed poems hung from the walls. Fumbling
through his pockets, he pulled out the poem he had written for Isabel. It hadn't
been easy writing it: in fact it had been quite the opposite. All day he'd thought
about it, wondering what she'd say when she read it. He'd poured his heart into
that poem, and he hoped she'd understand. Glancing at her desk, he caught a
glance at a framed photograph of Isabel, Ashley and a few other people. God,
she was so beautiful. Picking it up, he ran is finger across the glass that covered
her face. Miranda was a million miles away. They hadn't even spoken to each
other for days. All of a sudden, their relationship seemed meaningless. He was
about to put the photo back on the desk when the door swung open and Isabel
stormed in, not looking very happy.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she yelled.
"I'm not-" he stammered.
"Get out." she said coldly, pointing towards the door.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"Just get the hell out of here, okay?" Silently he walked out the door, giving her
an almost sad glance as he left. Isabel felt her irritation melt at the pleading look
in his gorgeous brown eyes. She was about to call him back, to apologize, but he
was gone. With a dull feeling of defeat, she collapsed on to her bed.
~~~~~~
Isabel Carter
I just sent him away. Why did I do that? I'm not even mad at him. I'm mad at myself.
When he was about to kiss me the other night, I actually wanted him to. I wanted to
throw my arms around him. I wanted him to hold me and tell me he loved me. But I knew
it wouldn't work that way, so I didn't let him. I wonder what happened to Miranda. Did
he kiss her the way I wanted him to kiss me? Did he actually love her? Did she love him
the way I do? Oh God. I can't believe I actually said that. It's not true, I don't love him.
But deep down? I think I do. And it's not all bad.
Michael Bowman-Flavell
I can't believe how stupid I've been these last few days. It was bad enough when I tried
to kiss her at the game, but then to practically break into her house to give her a mushy
love poem? That's a bit extreme, even for me. I wonder what Miranda's doing right now.
She's probably trying to call me, but I've taken my phone off the hook. I don't want to
talk to anyone right now, nevermind her. I don't think I could ever talk to her again.
Every time I see her or talk to her, all I can think about is Isabel. And that's not fair on
either of us. I don't love Miranda anymore, and I can't keep telling myself I do.
Now I know why Romeo killed himself.
Part 1 - Fall at your feet
Part 2 - Animal Instinct
Part 3 - Chagrin | |
