-Alvin-
I guess it all started on a hot, humid day sometime in July.
But of course, during summertime nobody really knows the difference between June and July, Tuesday and Wednesday.
But I think it was a Tuesday.
Whatever, it doesn't make all that much of a difference anyways.
It was one of those days where it's so humid your hair curls up the moment you walk outside, when your shoes seem to stick to the pavement, when it looks like everything less than a yard off the ground is wavy and hazy.
Of course, I slept in because I'm a teenager (fourteen! Yeah yeah) and that's what teenagers do. Plus, you know, it's summer, who cares?
All the covers were flung off my bed and my hair was sticking to my forehead.
So I laid there sweating and making smacking noises with my mouth because I could taste that gross morning breath until I heard a yell up the stairs, a yell that is forever imprinted in my brain.
"AALLLLLLVIINNNNNN!"
"DAAAVE!" I wanted to yell back, but why get in more trouble than necessary? I was too lazy to be a smartass.
So I got up and stretched and made my way down the stairs.
On my way, I nearly knocked over Simon, who hasn't really talked to me for a week now- so why break the silence by saying sorry? Really.
Not like I even thought the words. Not like I even felt the first syllable start to form at the back of my throat before I remembered I hated him this week, it just didn't happen. It just wasn't there.
So I shoved past Simon, ignoring the feeling as I walked away that he was doing his very best to burn holes in the back of my head with nothing but his eyes.
Dave was standing in the kitchen holding up two halves of a plate I had broken the night before and taped together with duct tape in an attempt to hide it. I had also crammed it in the dishwasher, which had burn marks all over it.
"It. Caught. On. Fire," Dave hisses.
"Well, it seemed like a good idea last night," I said, grabbing a granola bar out of the pantry.
"Yeah, well, it doesn't seem like one now," He replies, putting them in the trash can and then turning to face me with that Dave look on his face that means I did something bad.
(Hey! He did the exact same thing to something and fixed it with duct tape!)
"You used duct tape on something last week and said it fixed everything!" I said defensively, waving my granola bar around.
"Okay, look. A), that was a handlebar on Theodore's bike and that's different than a plate, and B), that was only until Simon could get around to fixing it. Okay?"
"Still."
"Still what? Alvin, really "
I interrupted him. "Okay, okay, I'm going to the pool. Just stop lecturing me."
"Fine, but take someone with you, I don't want you going alone."
"Where's Theodore?"
"Date."
"Eleanor. Jee-ash." I paused. "Holy crap! Do I have to take Simon?" Does he know what that could do to my rep?
Simon pokes his head in like this is actually his business (which it is NOT) and corrects, "No, actually, I have to go to work. I don't sit around the house all day, unlike some people."
I'm pretty sure you can't really have a job if you can't drive (isn't that like, child labor?), but he has some dorky friend whose dorky dad owns the library and so he managed to get a dorky job there. Which I think is dumb because all he has to do is stand around all day and breathe and scan books and read and he still gets paid.
"Sorry. I wouldn't want to interrupt your standing around behind a desk and getting paid," I hissed, crossing my arms.
Simon wrinkles his nose at me and says, "Oh, puh-leeze, you are just mad because nobody in their right mind would ever hire you."
"I don't need a job."
"You just don't want to work. Lazy."
"I'm not lazy, I'm normal. Unlike you. Not all of us are freaks."
Simon just scoffs and rolls his eyes and struts off.
"Actually, now that I think about it, maybe you should get a summer job." Dave remarks from behind his paper.
(Yeah. I'll get right on that. And then pigs. Will sprout wings. And fly. Whatever.)
"Not today! I'm going to the pool."
"Take one of the girls with you then."
"Yeah right. Eleanor's on a date with Theodore, Jeanette hangs on Simon like a coat or a dishrag or something, and I am NOT taking Brittany to the pool so she can embarrass the living hell out of me."
"Didn't you two call a truce?"
"Yeah, but she can break it whenever, Dave. This is Brittany we are talking about here."
"I think Brittany is okay."
I sighed, and started making my way toward the door. "You don't know her like I do."
So, I walked over to Brittany's house because well, he told me to bring someone and I wouldn't mind seeing Brittany in her swimsuit.
I knocked on the door, and Jeanette quickly answered it, looking excited. When she saw me, her face dropped.
"Oh. Hi, Alvin," she said, sighing.
"Expecting Simon?" I asked. I swear, Jeanette practically breathes Simon. It's scary.
She nodded.
"Well, he has to work today, you know," I said, rolling my eyes.
"I know. But still " she looked into the distance dreamily for a second. I waved my hand in front of her face, and she looked back at me. "Oh! So, um, do you want Brittany?"
I nodded.
"All the boys do," Jeanette rolled her eyes, and then turned around and yelled up the stairs, "Brittany!"
Brittany walked groggily down the stairs. Her hair was messy, and she was still wearing her PJ's. "What?" then she saw me, and looked away. "Please tell me those are swim shorts. Please."
"No, Brittany, he's come to see you in his boxers," Jeanette responded sarcastically.
I ignored the perverted thoughts that somehow slipped into my head with that sentence. When Brittany made eye contact with me again, I leaned on the doorframe. "So, Brittany. Do you wanna go to the pool with me?"
("Like a date," a little voice added in my head. But that little voice was quickly silenced by the other little voices probably throwing bricks at it.)
Brittany looked surprised for a second, then rolled her eyes and said, "Aww, will Dave not let wittle Alvin go to da pool on his owwwnnn?" she said in a funny voice.
I blushed. "Look, if you wanna come shut up and get your swimsuit on, okay?"
-Brittany-
I was surprised when he didn't have a comeback. So I just turned around and went upstairs. I got my swimsuit on and put on some mascara and lip gloss.
"Why does he suddenly care if I come or not? Usually he just tells Dave he took someone and goes by himself. What's wrong with him?" I asked myself, looking in the mirror at my sparkly pink bikini.
I SO could tell this would end terribly. But I guess I just wanted to go, for some bizarre reason.
Okay, so I was really excited about getting to spend time with him. I think I might kind of have a cru-
NO. NO I DON'T. OKAY?
I did not write that. I did not even think it. Okay?
He's a jerk. He really is. I really want to hurt him sometimes. But not right now. I kind of kind of like him.
But I can't. Because he doesn't like me like that.
I ran back downstairs.
"Let's go, "He said, after taking a moment to register the bikini.
-Alvin-
Whoa. Brittany in a bikini. Whoooooaaaaa.
"Uh, let's go," I said. Brittany stepped outside, and started walking down the driveway. I turned around and said to Jeanette, "Don't worry, I'll tell Simon to call you later, okay?"
I'm not sure if I meant it, but I suppose it doesn't really matter because I could tell it made her day.
Then I caught up with Brittany, and we walked down to the pool.
-Jeanette-
I smiled after Alvin, and then shut the door.
He's a nice guy, I think. I mean, lately he's been pretty nice.
I sat down on the couch, and sighed. Simon was at work, with Michelle, who used to be my friend. Michelle, who has a crush on Simon almost as big as her head. You know, the only reason he got that job is because her dad is really important at the library, and Michelle wanted him away from me all summer (5 days a week, and occasionally Saturdays).
I pulled out my phone, feeling miserable. Michelle was at the library with Simon all to herself. I needed. To talk. To him. Now.
I dialed 1 and then pressed Send. (Yeah, he's number one on my speed dial.)
-Simon-
I sighed, and turned another page of my book. There is NOBODY in the library during the summer. Except the kids whose mothers enroll them in the story time program, and a few people who I know from school. And the occasional group of little 6-through-11-year-olds from the downtown daytime summer care center.
My cell phone vibrated in my back pocket, and I nearly fell out of my chair.
It was Jeanette. I didn't even have to check. I just knew.
I got up, and headed for the bathroom.
"Simon, where are you going?" Mr. Samuels, the head librarian and Michelle's dad, asked.
"Uh- gotta pee," I said, then brushed past him.
She was calling me. At work. I have told her at least 73 times not to call me at work. I'm not even supposed to have my phone. (Like one measly ringtone will disturb the readers, even though we constantly have 6-year-olds running around? Yeah, whatever.)
I walked into the bathroom and hid in a stall. I answered my phone, whispering as quiet as possible:
"How many times have I told you not to call me at work. I mean, I'm pleased to be speaking to you, but really, Jeanette?"
"I wanted to talk to you," she whines on the other end. "I have cabin fever."
-Jeanette-
Did I really have cabin fever? Psh. No. I could stay cooped up in the house for months with my books and never get tired of it.
I guess Simon knew me well enough to figure that out, because the only response I got out of him was a quiet, sarcastic sounding, "Mmm-hmm."
"Really," I said. "For real."
"You're an awful liar."
"Am not!"
"Are too."
"When are you off work?"
"You KNOW when I'm off work. I've only told you a thousand times."
"I forgot." No, I hadn't. I just wanted to hear it again to make sure I only had six more hours of my silent, empty house without him.
His exasperated sigh sounded like static over the phone, but I knew him well enough to recognize it as a sigh. "I get off at six."
"Just six more hours!"
-Simon-
Just six more hours. Six more unending hours. I mean, not that I don't love the library, but it's the same thing every day- hardly anybody is ever there because this town is filled with uncultured imbeciles, so I just sit behind the desk and pretend to listen to Michelle all day.
I don't know why that girl talks to me so much anyway.
"Simon? Simon, are you there?"
"Uh yeah. Sorry. I just kind of zoned out."
She giggled (although over the poor connection of the phone, it sounded more like a gurgle) and said, "Happens to me all the time."
My phone suddenly beeped, and I pulled it off of my ear to check the text. It was Michelle, asking where I was. "I have to get back to work, Jeanette. I'm sorry. Bye."
I heard her say "bye", and hung up the phone.
-Jeanette-
"Bye," I said, and then paused. I bit my lip, and whispered, "I love you."