Chapter Twelve

RHONDA

I woke up with a groan. It was already nine thirty. Shoot.

I have to meet Curly at his house by ten.

Immediately, I jumped out of bed and ran to the toilet to brush my teeth. I felt awful. Probably from all the sugar I ingested last night with Angela. I'm still glad I went down to Tony's yesterday. I made a new friend.

Someone to hang out with when Nadine and Lila ditch me.

I grabbed a sweater and some shorts, changed into them and was out the door by nine forty. I drove one of the more modest cars we have, the Prius, so that I wouldn't attract much attention. I reached Curly's house at five past ten.

I ran up the steps and was going to knock on the door when it swung open.

"You're late," Curly said with a cheerful smile. He's also shirtless, he only has track pants on. "And wow, is that a Prius? How many cars do you own?"

I gulped and tried to look only at his face. "You were expecting me? Even opening the door at such a distinct time? I have to say, a little desperate."

"I expected you five minutes ago, come in."

I've been to Curly's house before. I didn't remember it being so… cosy. Small but very cosy. Like Arnold's boarding house.

And it smelled great, like Downy.

"Why are you so happy in the morning? Uh oh, you're not one of those, are you?"

I could hear something frying in the kitchen. It smelled even more delicious the closer we got. It's definitely bacon.

"A morning person. Why yes, yes, I am, Rhonda. I am. A morning person, I am."

"Stop it," I growled. "And for my sake, put on a shirt! Or I'll scream and get your mom to come down and give you a piece of her mind."

"Somebody got the morning grumpy grumps, my sweet?" he asked sweetly, batting his lashes. He didn't even noticed he slipped with the old pet name. I let it slide. "My mom and dad are out of the house. They're on a date."

"On Saturday morning?"

He nodded. I shrugged.

"And it's hot. But if you're bothered by it, I'll go get one."

"Don't be in a big rush or anything," I said sarcastically.

"Wiseass," I heard him say under his breath.

"Were you planning on feeding me?" I placed my bag on one of the chair by the dining table. "Ten is way too early for me. I expect breakfast."

He smiled and walked to the kitchen. "Yeah, I cooked. Don't expect much. I only know how to fry."

God, why can't he just put on a shirt? He's all skin and bones anyway. Skin and bones with the muscle definition of a–

Stop it, Rhonda. You're being sick.

"I kind of had a late night last night," I said, walking to the kitchen. It was a small space with colorful tiles and black wooden cupboards.

"I heard. Thanks for helping Tony and Angela close up shop," he said, flipping the bacon. I saw that the scrambled eggs were ready. So were the sausages.

Damn it, Angela. Why'd you have to report everything?

"Can you help me with the coffee?" he requested.

"You think a rich girl like me knows how to work a coffee machine?" I challenged him.

He turned, pretending to think it over while waving the spatula. I almost let out a giggle.

Keep it together, Rhonda. What the hell is wrong with you today? It just Curly. It's Curly. So, eww.

I fixed my face to look real stern and unamused.

"Hmm, I think so. Yes. Even rich girls need their coffee fix. Especially rich girls."

I groaned. "Fine, where's the filters?"

"Third cupboard from the left."

"And the beans?"

"It's just in that drawer over there."

While he was busy with the bacon, I prepared the pot of coffee and soon the kitchen was filled with its aroma. All the wonderful smell of breakfast is not helping with my hunger situation.

Once the coffee was made, I grabbed two cups and placed it on the table. I also took the pot of coffee with me. When I was done, I returned to the kitchen, watching him collect the bacon from the pan and placing it on plates.

I've never seen this side to Curly before. Everything feels so domestic. He was cooking. I was making coffee. It felt as if we were a…

I'm not going to finish that sentence.

"Sugar's in the same cupboard as the filter, milk's in the fridge."

"Right," I said. I almost thanked him for the distraction. After I grabbed the items, I stayed put in the dining room. I shouldn't be around Curly too much. Maybe, that was the problem. It's just vicinity. If I'm around other guys my age, I'd feel the same too.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Of course, that's just it. Nothing to worry about.

Not to mention the fact that I haven't dated in a long while.

"Eat up," he said, dropping my plate of food in front of me. I quickly dug in.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Rhonda Lloyd, resident heiress, eats like a pig," he said, wiping his hand in the air as though he was reading a headline.

"Shut your face and eat your own food. Hope you choke on it."

"Hope your coffee burns your tongue."

"Hope your physics book drops from your desk into your bed and crushes your skull, killing you in your sleep."

He laughed. "I have no response to that."

"In your face."

"In your face? What?" Curly was laughing hysterically now. "Haha! Nobody says that after they graduate from the sixth grade."

I tried to hold out, chewing on my bacon slowly, but soon I break out in laughter as well. It was such a stupid conversation.

"Whatever, just finish your food," I said between laughs.

"Yeah, yeah…"

[[–––––––––]]

"I do not have a poetic bone in my body. How are you going to teach that to someone?"

"The ability to write original, creative and inspiring poetry? You can't. But, you can teach them about structure, good rhymes, and the different styles of poetry. You don't have to be the voice of a generation, you just need to be a passable poet."

I gave him a glare which he ignored. His eyes scanned my poem again.

"Wow, a passable poet. That's all I'm ever going to become."

"With what you've written so far? That's reaching for the stars. You're missing the point. I'm saying you don't have to be Plath or Ginsberg, just be you. What do you feel? What's important to you? What do you want to say?"

Right now, I couldn't think of a single thing.

"Nothing comes to my mind."

Curly sighed. It must be frustrating for him to deal with someone without any talent in this at all. Bet he wished he was tutoring Helga right now. He and Helga are pros at poetry. It came easily to them.

Well, he wouldn't really have to tutor Helga, she'd probably have to tutor him.

Helga has won some major awards. Maybe I should get her help instead…

"You're thinking of going to Helga for help, aren't you?"

"Why not? She's award-winning."

He scowled. I think I've offended him. "She's also incredibly busy. In the meantime, you have me. Since writing is not helping you right now, we're going to be doing some reading."

He handed me some journals. "Read through these. We'll get back to writing in an hour."

"How about your assignment?"

"I finished last night."

"What? How?"

"I finally got inspired," he simply said.

I think I just did as well.

"Can I read your poem?" I asked.

"Nope."

"Figures."

"You'll hear it in class."

It's probably about Gwen.

The hours passed quickly as I read through the journals. Now that I have a subject I'm going to write the best poem I can.

"Ready to write that poem or do you want a break?"

"Let's have a coffee break and then write the poem."

"Okay."

I took a sip of my coffee then picked up my pen to write.

"Whoa, you don't waste anytime, do you?"

I ignored him and started writing my poem. "Shh, I'm in the zone."

Curly laughed and left me alone. I wrote the only poem I've been satisfied with in fifteen minutes.

"I'm done."

"What?" he said, surprised.

"Yup. Here it is. You can check it for grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. I'm gonna go get more coffee."

Curly scanned it over. After he was done and I'm sipping on my new cup, there was a big smile on his face.

"Did I do well?"

"Well? You did fantastic! Much better than your previous attempt."

Happiness flooded my insides. But I only let out a small smile.

"Can I read it aloud?" he asked.

"Sure."

"YOYO

i'm the string attached to your finger

going along with everything you said

bouncing

up

down

to please you and love you

whizzing back and forth always

in full momentum before i go all out

i'm a circle in your bright yoyo

constantly attracting attention

spinning

round

round

to taunt you back to me

the warm embrace of home

i offer and take solace in the warmth

i'm the noise of the wind the yoyo sings

making lots of noise but never

heard above the others

zoom

zoom

i go quietly wherever my little yoyo

goes i'll follow and hover but never

really touch my beloved spinning circle"

"Fifteen minutes. Impressive, right?"

Curly let out a snort but I can tell he's just kidding. "You're not that good."

"I'm going to be the voice of a generation!" I declared.

"Not by a long shot," he shot out, grabbing our dirty dishes.

"Let a girl dream," I said.

"A girl can dream but letting her become delusional is cruel."