"I can't believe this," Mandela said that Monday at lunch. "I can't believe you're going to go out with Patrick Verona."
Kat winced, thinking about all the things that she'd already done with Patrick Verona the other night that she'd neglected to mention to Mandela. "Well," she said, "It's not confirmed yet. He could say no. Or I could back out. Or I could get lucky and Bianca could decide that Tommy isn't worth going out with. Not likely, but I can hope."
"I can't believe you're going to go out with Patrick Verona."
Kat stared at her. "Did you listen to anything I said?"
"I can't believe it."
Kat groaned. "I was at his house on Saturday," she said, trying to sound as casual as possible for shock effect.
She wasn't disappointed. Mandela looked like she'd just choked on something and then been saved by a flying hippopotamus. When she spoke again, it was in hushed tones. "Did he kidnap you?" she asked, "Oh my God, how did you get away."
"…No he didn't kidnap me."
"Then what happened?"
Kat bit her lip. "It's really not that exciting. I got drunk and my sister can't drive. He temporarily held me hostage at his house," she said, but hastily reworded the statement after seeing the expression on Mandela's face. "Not, like, hostage hostage. I was exaggerating!"
Mandela looked shocked. "Wow. You are so brave."
***
"I need to talk to you," Kat said, standing at Patrick's locker. She couldn't believe what she was about to do.
"That's never good," he said. He didn't take his eyes off of the inside of his locker
Kat rolled her eyes. "Seriously."
"Okay. Shoot."
"Bianca wants to go out on Friday."
Patrick stared at her. "With me?"
Kat flinched. "No, that's not what I meant. She wants to go out with Tommy."
"Okay."
"And my dad won't let her go out unless-" --she gritted her teeth—"—I do too. As in, go with her. And stay with her. And taser Tommy if he does anything mildly resembling physical affection."
Patrick nodded slowly and closed his locker. "Really?" he said in a tone that clearly implied disbelief.
"Yes. I mean if you don't want to, I can tell Bianca and she can call--"
He shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I meant, is that the only reason you want us to go out on Friday?"
Kat tried to think. If I say yes, I run the risk of making him think that Friday night was a mistake, which is bad if he has feelings for me. But if I say no, I run the risk of him not liking me and making everything awkward.
Kat clamped her mouth shut and didn't say anything.
"So you tell me that you aren't the type of person to just make out with someone," he continued, "And then make out with me. And then ask to go out just so that your sister can, too."
He shook his head. "I'll be there at seven. But it'd be nice to know whether I'm going for you--" – he raised an eyebrow – "or Bianca."
***
Well that, thought Kat, slumping onto her bed later that day after school, was mildly disastrous.
She groaned into her pillow.
"Kat," said a chirpy voice, and with a sinking heart, Kat realized that she'd forgotten to close her bedroom door. "I need to talk to – are you okay?"
Bianca had clearly walked into the room. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," said Kat. She sat up and smiled brightly. "I'm just peachy."
Bianca rolled her eyes at sat at the foot of the bed. "Ha. That's funny. If you were just peachy, you'd be making fun of yearbook photos. Or writing letters to some animal rights group or something."
Kat glared at her sister.
"Talking to Patrick didn't go too well, did it," Bianca said. She looked truly sympathetic – and Kat couldn't suppress an ephemeral rush of affection for her sister.
"It didn't go bad, per se," said Kat, trying to reason with both herself and Bianca, "It just…" she sighed. "Didn't go how I expected it to. He basically asked me why I was asking him, but he left before I could say anything. Not that I tried too hard."
"Well…was he angry?"
"I don't know. I couldn't tell, he was unreadable. He's always unreadable. I hate that he's unreadable," she said.
Bianca sighed and looked down. "Well…do you want me to cancel?"
Kat blinked, shocked. "What? No, no, no. You don't have to do that. Patrick said he'd go."
"Yeah but if both of you are just moping around through the entire thing, we might as well all stay in. Plus, I won't be able to have much fun if you're depressed through the whole thing."
Kat bit her lip, her expression softening.
Okay, Bianca is being considerate and…sensitive towards others. What the hell is happening? I mean, what did she have for lunch today?
"I—Thanks, Bianca. But you don't have to do that. I'll talk to Patrick tomorrow."
Bianca nodded. "Alright. Talk to you later then," she said, standing up and leaving.
***
She was floating in a pool of water. There was a woodpecker above her, Lord knows why.
The woodpecker flew down to her and began pecking on the water. The places where he tapped it turned solid, and sounded strangely like hollow wood.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Kat groaned. Turn it off.
Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap.
She rolled over, trying to get away from the noise.
Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap tap.
TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP.
She groaned and blinked groggily. She sat up, confused. The clock next to her read 11:49. She wondered why the hell she was having dreams about floating in water and woodpeckers with the magical ability to turn water into wood.
It was like some sick, twisted version of the Bible.
And now we're turning dreams into religious signs. I am losing my mind.
She was so flustered that she almost didn't hear the tapping at her window – this time real.
Holy crap. I'm going to get kidnapped.
The curtains were all drawn, so whoever it was outside couldn't see her – but it also meant she couldn't see them. She felt a rush of panic, and then remembered the taser in her backpack. She got it out and slowly – and with her breath held – crept to the window.
Here's what she envisioned in her mind: she would, in one fluid motion, draw the curtain, point the taser at whoever was outside her window, and then yell for her father.
Here's what actually happened: she, in one fluid motion, drew the curtain, pointed the taser at the person outside the window, saw the person outside her window, and nearly fell over – banging her elbow on the windowsill.
For a moment she thought she was still dreaming, but then her elbow started to ache – like, really ache – so she had to admit that it was really real life.
She shook her head and opened the window.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she whispered. If her dad found out about this, she was beyond screwed. She shut the window and closed the curtain again. "Did Patrick tell you to come here?"
Sophie looked at her like she was insane. "Are you kidding me? If Patrick finds out about this, I'm screwed. So please, for the love of God, don't tell him."
She winced. "Alright, I won't tell him. Now explain!"
Kat tried to mentally gauge all the possible reasons why Patrick's cousin was standing at her window.
"I sort of wanted to talk."
Kat stared at her. "You snuck out of your house to mine at half past eleven and nearly gave me a heart attack because you 'sort of wanted to talk'?!"
"It seemed like an okay idea at the time. No one's ever snuck into your room before?"
Kat sighed. "Believe me, if you'd ever met my father, you'd understa--"
She was interrupted by another set of taps at the window. She glanced at Sophie, who looked just as confused as her.
Kat pursed her lips and opened the window again.
"Sophie?" said Patrick Verona, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Kat groaned. "My room has turned into a refugee shelter. Perfect."
---
A/N: As I was writing this, I had pretty much no idea where I was going with it. I think it turned out alright, and I actually do have something in mind for the next chapter now, I'm just not sure whether I should write it. I might end up deleting this chapter, depending on how the next one goes. But in the mean time, tell me what you think :).
