A/N: I'm so sorry, I'm trying so hard to keep this funny and not stray into my oh so seriousness, but I think we need a glimpse into Alice's thought process, since we've never actually seen her alone. And a special thanks to Conor Dachisen and the anonymous guest who reviewed! I'm glad I have at least some people reading this train wreck *throws confetti*
Disclaimer: I totally don't own anything in here. Zachary and Phil Shortman belong to SuprSingr, Hey Arnold and all of it's characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and I only own Alice and her family.
She came home with the box of donuts in hand, to a cold dinner and a scolding mother. Oh, joy.
"Where have you been? Your father and I have been worried sick!" Claudia Martin was...not a pleasant woman. She was cynical, condescending, and rude, but had a strong sense of right and wrong, and loved her daughter dearly.
"You know where I was, I was over at the Shortmans working on that play that Leichliter is making us do. Then I walked to Hillwood to get some donuts." Alice shrugged it off as nothing, depositing the donuts on the kitchen counter. She noticed the plate that had been set out for her, the food still in pots on the stove.
Her mother sighed, about to put a hand on her daughter's shoulder before she thought better of it. "Honey you can't keep doing this, I know you think you can take care of yourself but that was dangerous!"
"So? I do it all the time. You can put the food in tupperware, I'm not hungry. Goodnight." Alice shot her mother an apologetic look before attempting to scuttle up the stairs unnoticed.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going young lady?" The grating voice of her "father" sounded from the bottom of the stairs.
"What?" she turned, glaring with her single hazel eye.
"...We were just worried, is all. Remember, you've got to clean the garage out tomorrow."
"But I've got plans, I have to work on my project. I have all week to clean out the garage!" She argued. Her father just shook his head, and let her march up to her room to slam the door. She cranked up the stereo, flopping down on her bed.
Hmph, he's not even my real dad, she thought to herself with a sneer. When Alice was young, her mother had remarried to Carson Martin, and she, being a very little girl, wanted to keep her dad's last name, Barker. Her thoughts traveled back to the boy she had spent the afternoon with, and she crossed her arms.
"Hmph, stupid Phil, I bet the lucky bastard doesn't have to act any different than himself in his own home..." she picked up a rubber ball, bouncing it off the wall. "Gotta keep up this damned act every day, I bet he can say whatever he wants without even thinking about getting sent to the damned hospital." Alice recounted the events that had caused her to be moved here in the first place, pulling her knees up to her chin and closing her eyes.
Alice Barker was a semi-normal, cute as a button 7 year old girl. She had friends, enjoyed art, loved school, and was as popular as a 7 year old could be. But she was not well, she was actually being watched every day by teachers due to her occasional violent outbursts.
She grew up very well liked, and never had a reason to hurt anyone, until she was 11. A boy had thrown sand in her best friends face, making her cry...So Alice had tried to beat him with a chair, before being forcefully removed from school grounds, screaming that she was going to find him and make him cry. It was a mutual agreement that she needed a change of scenery, so the family bolted out of town and settled in the house they live in now, the elder couple happy that their young daughter had not had any outbursts.
"Alice! PHONE!" Her mothers shouting snapped her out of her little walk down memory lane. When she was downstairs, she let out a seething "What?" into the receiver.
"You left your phone here, imbecile." Phil replied, irritation heavy in his voice.
"How did you get my house phone number!?"
"Phone book."
"Well why didn't you just wait till tomorrow to tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you banging on the door at 3 in the morning asking if you left it here, idiot."
"I would never!"
"I wouldn't put it above you, now goodbye."
And with that, he hung up, making Alice slam the phone the phone on the hook. "Ngh...nobody hangs up on Alice L. Barker!"
"Alice are you okay?"
"I'm fine, mom! And goodnight!" She marched up the stairs before preparing for bed, showering and putting in her Dark Side of the Moon album in the stereo, happy to get to sleep.
Phil was eating his toast at around noon, wondering whether she was going to show up or not. Of course she is, he told himself, the wretched female creatures can't stand to be separated from their phones for that long. The doorbell rang, and Zack sluggishly got up, opening the door and instantly brightening up. Hell, if she gets on Phil's nerves, then she's no enemy of his.
"Hey." Her vest had been replaced by a worn white hoodie, a patch expertly stitched on the shoulder from where it had most likely been torn.
"Hey there, streetlamp! Come in, Philly's eatin' breakfast over there." Alice nodded, shrugging off her hoodie when she stepped into the warmer house.
"Toast? I figured you'd have more class, Phil." She smiled, dropping her bag on the couch and hanging her jacket on a coat rack.
"I don't expect that you had anything better, wench." He glared, hair messy and only in a t-shirt and black jeans.
"I had donuts with a cup of hot tea, Earl grey. I ran over to Krispy Kreme after I left last night." Zack, who was contentedly sipping his coffee, did a spit take...all over her.
"Criminy! You went all the way to downtown Hillwood AT 8 O'CLOCK AT NIGHT, ALONE? Man, you really are crazy." Zack said, before realizing that Alice was dripping in lukewarm coffee, with a sour look on her face. In his embarrassment, he failed to notice Phil's near murderous glare at him. What a waste of good coffee.
"Mother! Father! Your beastly eldest son has spit coffee all over Alice!" Phil shouted in an uncaring voice, and an angry "WHAT" could be heard from the other room. Helga came stomping in, hair in a ponytail and unibrow in need of shaving. She raised an eyebrow, then narrowed her eyes at Zack.
"Zachary Shortman!" Helga shouted, causing the once confident young man to shrink into his seat.
"Uhm, Mrs. Shortman, it's really okay..." Alice muttered. That actually appalled and surprised Phil.
"What are you saying!? You're covered in an over sweetened, over creamed excuse for a once tasteful cup of coffee! Don't tell me you're going to just roll over and accept that!? ...Who are you and what have you done with that headstrong imbecile Alice Barker?" Phil suddenly stood up, hands planted firmly on the table with toast crumbs in the corner of his mouth. Everyone in the room looked rather shocked, before Helga snapped out of it and dragged Zack out of the room by his ear, to administer his punishment away from the eyes of their guest. Oh, he was gonna get it.
Alice just blinked, dripping coffee from her shirt. She snapped out of it, feeling Phils gaze on her.
"Uhm, I can just, you know, run back to my house and take a shower...Wait, crap, I can't." Her mother and father were at work, and she had lost her house key at school. There was always climbing through the window but...That was painful. Last time she did that, she broke a lamp.
"Why not?"
"None of your business. Can I borrow one of your mom's shirts or something? I can dry my skirt off pretty well." she fiddled with the hem of her skirt, embarrassed to be dripping coffee all over the kitchen floor.
"...Whatever. Mother! Can the beast borrow one of your shirts!?"
"Sure honey! Show her to the bathroom so she can clean up while I open a can of whoop-ass on your brother!" A pink and orange mass came flying out of the room Helga was in, and Phil struggled to catch it, then tossed it to his coffee covered guest.
"Bathroom's down the hall, last door on the right. Now hurry up, I have very little time to waste."
"Ah shut up, toast boy." she slinked down the hall, cleaning herself up and slipping on the shirt. It was pink with thin, reddish orange stripes and long sleeves. She felt weird in it, it being her friends mom's and all...Wait, no. Phil is not your friend, you hate him. Well, that's what she told herself.
"Okay so, onto script writing...I just realized I'm absolutely no use in this project at all." A crestfallen look of realization passed over her face as she sat on the couch, laptop in hand.
"What?" Phil raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of hot chocolate.
"I make dresses. I can't write, I'm not the best actress, and even though I can sing and dance this isn't a musical. Man, now I feel like I'm totally screwing ya over." She ran a hand threw her hair, playing with a few split ends.
"Whatever, you came up with the title and you're keeping my horrendous brother away from me for most of the day."
Alice looked down, shrugging. They spent all day writing a fairly good script considering the crappy concept, but they frequently got into arguments about what should be said and done. It had taken about 7 hours just to finish it as a result, leaving both teens exhausted and sick of each other.
"Hey, I'm goin home, kay?" She stated, packing up her stuff in her laptop bag, tucking a red pen behind her ear. "I'll proofread and text you if I find any mistakes."
"Hmph, as if you will. Don't wander off into Hillwood this time, girl." He glared at her from his spot on his chair.
"Why, worried about me?" she grinned, crossing her arms. Phil scoffed, putting on his look of superiority.
"I just don't want to have to deal with the legal issues that'll come with you dying right after you leave my house. Now, begone!" She waved and ran out, returning to her own home. She very well didn't even bother with her parents, as she was in an unusually good mood even after today's tribulations. She plopped her bag on her bed, passing the time with books, video games, movies, and sketching before she fell asleep on the small futon in her room, head at an odd and uncomfortable angle.
Phil lie awake in his room, how long had he known Alice now? 4 years, 5 almost. "Hmph, maybe the devil isn't as brainless as I thought..." He shook his head, striking a match and lighting a candle on his nightstand before discarding the match in the metal trash bin. His room was well decorated, records of famous jazz and classical artists lining the walls, with movie posters and an entire wall of nothing but movies, as well as a large bookshelf. He sighed, curling up in a tiny ball under the covers, well as tiny as he could get considering he wasn't a kid anymore.
"Stupid girls."
Feel free to hate me, I tried to make it funny, and I honestly could see Zack spitting coffee on her and then Helga being all like "calm but terrifying rage."
I actually just wanted something to get spilled on Alice because she's an insane brat.