CHAPTER THREE- Two Worlds Collide Fletcher lay in his room, thinking about Chyna. Checking his calendar, he nodded. It'd been two days, so he would date her for five more and then dump her as planned. As he thought about this, his phone went off. It was a text from Chyna. Hey Fletch, I was wondering... Are we officially dating yet? ~Chyna He thought about it for a second. Was Chyna his girlfriend? He wanted to say no, to spare her the heartache, but he knew it was part of the routine. Do you want to be? ;) -Fletch She responded quickly, causing Fletcher to laugh. YES. ~Chyna Then yes. -Fletch He turned the phone off, not wanting to guilt himself any further. Every time he spoke to Chyna, the guilt stabbed into his heart. He wanted to tell her they could never date, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. That's when his mom came upstairs. She knocked once on his door before coming in. He glanced up. "Yes mother?" "Fletcher, I have to tell you something." Those few words set him on edge. He sat up and looked at her warily. "Yeah?" He asked cautiously. "Well, we talked to a nice lady today." "Okay..." "She was homeless." Fletcher was confused. "Where is this going?" "Her daughter is going to be our new servant." "Another slave?" His mom shot him a disapproving look. "Fletcher, slavery was abolished. We have servants, not slaves. You know that." "Whatever. Is that all you wanted to tell me?" "No. I want you to show her around when she gets here tonight." Fletcher glared at her, not wanting to have to spend time with one of his sl- er, servants. "Mother, I have a date with Chyna tonight." He lied. "Can't one of the other servants show her around?" "No, they have other things to do. Just cancel with Chyna. She's a nice girl, I'm sure she'd understand." "This is so stupid." "I don't care. You're going to be polite and show Olivia around. Okay?" Fletcher turned away, tired of this conversation. "Whatever." "If you'd like, we could have Chyna over tomorrow." She offered, trying to be fair. "No thanks." She sighed and left his room, leaving Fletcher frustrated. He grumbled to himself. "This is pointless. I have to spend my precious time showing around some stupid slave." He muttered, ignoring the fact that his mom had told him to say servant. So he waited in his room until the girl arrived. He was hoping that his mom would forget that she wanted him to help. Maybe she would just- "Fletcher! Olivia is here!" Drat. She remembered. He made a face and finally got up and walked downstairs. When he arrived he saw a dirty girl with tattered clothing. She was caked in mud. "Wow. Mother, you didn't mention she was a street rat." He said snottily. She frowned. "Fletcher, that's no way to talk to Olivia." "It's quite all right, ma'am. I'm used to it." She said politely, locking her blue eyes on Fletcher's. Her eyes caused a shiver to go down his spine. Something about them made him want to stare into them forever. But he tore away, shaking his head. "This is dumb. Do I really have to show her around?" He grumbled, glaring at his mom. "It's okay, ma'am. If he doesn't want to, I can show myself around. I wouldn't want to inconvenience the poor boy." She sounded a little angry, but it was hidden under her manners. "No, no! Fletcher WILL show you around. NOW." His mom left, leaving him with the dirty girl. "Let's just get this over with." He growled. She turned on him, her eyes blazing. It was like someone had flipped a switch. "Listen up, jerk." She snapped. Fletcher's eyes widened. He wasn't used to being spoken to like that. Especially not by one of his parents' employees. "I don't want to be here just as much as you don't want me here! I had to give up my mom for this! So why don't you stop groaning and complaining? At least you have a family! Mine is gone!" She yelled, tears in her eyes. "I won't trouble you into showing me around, I wouldn't want to interrupt your pampered little life. It must be terrible to have your parents hire someone to do whatever you say." She spat, storming off. For reasons he didn't know, he followed her. A normal person would say it was because they felt sorry for her, but Fletcher didn't feel 'sorry' for anyone. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He said, rushing after her. "Where are you going?" "The kitchen." She said venomously, speeding up. "How do you know where it is?" He questioned, looking at her sideways as he hurried to keep up with her. She rolled her eyes. "I saw a map of the place before I came." "And you memorized it?" He raised his eyebrows. "Yes. I never forget anything, Mr. Quimby. Ever." He had a sinking feeling that she never forgave anything either. He should've walked away right then. He should've left her to her own devices. After all, he was getting what he wanted, wasn't he? She was showing herself around. He was home-free. But no, he couldn't just let her go. "Olivia, wait! Olivia! Olive!" She froze at the last one. Slowly, she spun to face him. "What did you just call me?" "Olive?" He was confused. Immediately she was in his face. "Don't EVER call me Olive. EVER." She commanded, before storming off. Again, he followed her. "I'm sorry, Olivia." "It's fine. Just don't call me that." She asserted again. "I didn't know." "There's a lot of things you don't know. Frankly, you're a moron." She spat. That was it. He was done trying to be nice. She thought he was being a jerk before? Olivia, meet the Fletcher Quimby everyone else knows. "Listen up, slave girl." He began, watching her eyes widen in shock at being called that. "I tried to apologize. I tried to take it back. But you couldn't accept an apology. You couldn't let me retract my statement. So, fine. But I have been known to be particularly malicious towards our little servants." He took an angry step towards her. "Upsetting me is a bad idea. Because now you're on my bad side. And I..." He paused for dramatic effect. "Am your boss. I can make your life miserable." She stared at him before shaking her head slightly. "Too late." Then she just left. Fletcher was left just standing there, left to make a decision. He could try his best to befriend the young servant, or he could do everything in his power to make her pay for being rude to him. Well, a good person would go with option number one. But Fletcher did not consider himself a good person. Number two it is! He marched upstairs, ready to work on a plan to make the girl regret her attitude. No one upset Fletcher Quimby! NO ONE. As he approached the stairs, his mom stopped him. "Fletcher! Did you show Olivia around?" He nodded. "Yes, mother." He lied. "What did you think?" She asked, sounding eager. "She seemed nice, didn't she?" He grit his teeth. Looks could be deceiving. However, he just sighed. "Sure." "Did you like her?" "Yeah. Whatever." Her eyes narrowed. "Fletcher Pumpernickel Quimby, what are you hiding?" He cringed. "Mother! You know I hate it when you use my middle name! I still don't understand why would you name me that..." "It was your father's favorite German bread. You were born in Germany, you know. We decided that we'd give you a middle name to pay tribute to your place of birth. I let him choose and he chose Pumpernickel. I think it fits you." He raised his eyebrows. "I fail to see how." "Fletcher, please. What are you hiding?" "Nothing!" She shook her head. "I can tell that you're not going to tell me, but just know that I am aware that something happened." "Whatever." "I wish you would stop saying that, Fletcher. It's a very disrespectful word." "Whate-" He stopped himself. "Yeah. Okay." "Thank you."