Chapter 9
The Actor and the Spectator

Angie muttered a few obscenities under her breath as she pushed my hair away from my tearstained face. Her usual devilish countenance was replaced by a calm and firm air that mismatched with her bright orange top and blue skirt.

She sighed quietly, shaking her head, "Dear me, Kim, whatever are we going to do with you?"

I sniffed and made another attempt to erase any remaining tears with the back of my hand. "Kill me and bury me," I proposed bitterly.

She gave a small sour laugh at that, looking up from her place at the foot of my chair. We were once again at my house, though this time the purpose seemed to be, in the eyes of Angie McDouglas: therapy. Not to say that she hadn't be furious and more than a little concerned when she had heard the talk about my confrontation with the quick-tempered Paul Walker. So instead of going to the movies as we had planed, we had collapsed in my small kitchen, Angie naturally taking on the role of the elder sister.

"That's not going to do, now, isn't it?" she said forcing her frown into an upbeat smile.

I sniffed again, "Jared thinks I'm pathetic."

"Stop it," she ordered sternly, slapping me gently on the knee, "That won't do at all."

Angie rose quickly and worked her way around the cupboards, opening and closing at random, "What you need is…now where do you hide it... Aha!"

Triumphantly, she dangled the chocolate powder before my eyes, "A nice steaming mug of hot chocolate."

I cracked a tiny smile, "That wouldn't be too bad."

Angie rolled her eyes and chuckled, "Nope, not bad at all. Now, go sit on the couch and put on Oprah. You and I are going to cry our hearts out for a good reason, not just because Paul Walker has an anger-management issue."

That's how my mother found us, curled up on the red sofa, under at least twenty blankets, Angie sobbing freely as Oprah squeezed the little girl with the terminal disease in a huge hug.

"I thought you two were going out tonight?" my mother asked skeptically, craning her neck around the doorway to spy on the TV.

We both made unintelligible noises, mine a cross between a hiccup and gurgle as I choked slightly on my third cup of hot chocolate.

"Right. I'll leave you to it then," my mother scoffed, moving into the kitchen, the clash of pots and pans as she began to take them out causing her to raise her voice, "Angie, are you going to stay for dinner?"

"If that's okay with you, Mrs. Roue," Angie managed to make out in between her watery snivels.

"Not a problem at all, darling," my mother chirped as she came out of the kitchen, tying her apron around her waist, "Did you talk to Sam Uley this morning, Kim?"

I tore my eyes away from the television, where the small girl was humbly thanking Oprah for making her short life so much better in a manner reminiscent of Oliver Twist, "He said that he's going to deal with the problem and thanks you for bring it up. Oh, and mom, please stop showing everyone pictures of me. It's embarrassing."

My mother frowned slightly, "Pictures of you?"

My eyes were back on the television, "Sam Uley recognized me from a picture you showed Emily Young."

Shaking her head, my mother made an indifferent noise as she moved back into the kitchen, "I never showed Emily any pictures of you when Sam Uley was around…"

Angie let out a wail, as the small girl waved herself off stage feebly, "Wendy, poor little Wendy!"

I gulped down another burning swallow of delicious hot chocolate, happily wiggling my toes inside the warm cocoon of blankets. The door bell rang, barely making itself heard above the great interlude music orchestrated by Oprah. My mother, however, had no trouble letting her annoyance be heard, muttering something about privacy and the burning of salesmen, as she made her way to open the door.

"Kim, can you pass me the ice cream?" Angie whined, her hand grasping eagerly.

"First let's hear you say the magic words!" I sang merrily, grabbing the tub and holding it over my head.

Angie let out a complaining cry, reaching out, "Ki-im! Please!"

"KIM!"

I leaned my head back on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling as I answered my mother, "WHAT?"

Angie, taking advantage of my distraction, snatched the tub from my hands and contentedly plunged a spoon into the ice cream. My mother strode into the living room, crossing her arms over her chest as she suspiciously gazed down at me, her eyes slightly narrowed.

My frown showed my confusion, "What?"

"There is a boy at the door asking for you," my mother spoke up, her foot tapping against the floor, "Why would that be?"

I was even more confused, "A boy? Who?"

My mother was still scrutinizing me, "He says his name is Jared Thail."

I froze. Angie stopped moving, her spoon half way to her mouth. My mother missed nothing, a victorious smile appearing on her face.

"Aha! So you do know him!" her voice took on a sharp questioning tone, "Why is he here?"

I'm pretty sure my face displayed my bewilderment as I searched for any reason as to why Jared Thail would be at my house, Friday night. Angie, having regained the ability of motion, had scrambled off the couch and peeked her face through the window curtains. She twirled around, her face ecstatic as she rushed back to me, basically landing on top of me as she took me by the shoulders.

"It's him!" she said in an excited whisper, "It's him, right outside! Jared Thail! Oh my goodness, Kim!"

This uncontained eagerness from Angie only served to arouse my mother's suspicion further, "Is he your boyfriend? Are you dating?"

I blushed bright red at my mother's suggestion, trying to hide the way my breath caught when she said those words, "Mom! Stop! He's not my boyfriend!"

Angie gave a cheshire cat grin at that, "But you want him to be, don't you Kim?"

"You like this boy, Jared or whatever his name is?" my mother interrogated, as quick as a cobra.

I felt myself digging deeper into the couch, my voice sounding very small, "Yes."

There was a silence as my mother absorbed those words, her facial expression changing between uneasiness, curiosity, protectiveness, and hesitation. It was Angie who broke the tension by forcing me to my feet, dusting me off for no apparent reason.

"Then what are you waiting for! Don't make him wait! Go out there and see what he has to say!" she cried out, the television forgotten behind her.

My mother followed on my heels, a small frown wrinkling her brow, as I walked the short distance from my living room to the front door in a daze.

Sure enough, there he was, standing in the doorway that looked way too small in comparison with his large frame. He had most adorable sheepish smile, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Kim!" he beamed.

My voice came out breathy, "Hi."

The reason for his awkward smile became apparent when he produced a small white lily from behind his back, "I-I saw this on my way here and I couldn't help how much it reminded me of you. For you."

My heart either flew off into deep space or merely passed out inside my chest. I'm quite certain my smile was about to break my face as I reached out to take the flower, caressing its soft petals gently.

"It's beautiful," I whispered.

His eyes were not on the lily when he answered, "I know."

Oh yes. I am evil. ;) But I think I might find it in me to throw you a line. Send in your comments by clicking the periwinkle blue button below, lovelies!

AneleTiger.