Mom was the first one to notice that anything had changed, but it wasn't about my relationship to Alfred. "Your hair is no longer green," she said one day as I was making tea in the kitchen. I gave her a little smile and tightened the red scarf around my neck.
"That's right."
"How come?" she asked and leaned against the table. I shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Well, it fits you." She gave my shoulder a friendly clap before she went to grab some food from the fridge. I watched her as she carefully picked out things for lunch. Had it been just a few weeks earlier, she would've demanded an explanation for every little change that happened to me, but these days her mind was so filled with other worries that she didn't take much notice of me. She was about to lose her job. For years she'd worked as a cleaning lady at the care home by the school, but it was a small place that was considered too expensive to run, so now they were going to close it down and let the new, larger home in the city take over the residents. No one could guarantee her work at the new place, so she was desperately rummaging through the job market without luck. She had very little education, and she was scared of trying something that she'd never done before. 'What if I am not good enough?' she always asked, but no matter the reassuring answer we gave her, she kept worrying.
Dad couldn't stand seeing her unhappy. He could learn to accept most things in life, but not the breakdown of his wife, and only a week after she'd been sitting sobbing during breakfast, he'd taken on extra work. He was a carpenter, and therefore work wasn't something he could plan, but, as he said, if you don't fear the moonlight, you'll always be able to get a job. As he began to disappear at weekends, I never asked where he was. What the government doesn't know will not hurt our savings.
Somehow all these troubles had come along very suitably for me. With their time solely focused on work, neither of them noted that I didn't spent my days with Evan anymore but Alfred. That I had stopped colouring my hair green was only the tip of the iceberg, but as long as Mom didn't decide on taking a dive to look further into it, I felt safe and happy.
It quickly turned out that it was harder for Alfred to keep our escapades a secret. His dad was a personal trainer who went to work at seven in the morning and came home around five, while his mom often had the evening duty at the hospital, meaning that she left around two p.m. and returned early at night. That left us with three hours to fool around in in the afternoon without neither of them noticing, but in the heat of the moment even I found it hard to count the hours, and more than once I had to flee from the living room to the bathroom to hide an obvious erection when his dad suddenly slammed the front door open. Once we had entangled ourselves so badly in a blanket that as I heard the door being opened and tried to roll off of Alfred, I dragged him down with me, and his dad found us fighting with red faces on the floor, both trying to get on our feet. When he asked us what was going on, Alfred told him a long story about how a million unfortunate events had brought us into this situation. In the end his dad left us alone, but not without raising his brows in a suspicious manner only I managed to see.
"I think he's onto us," I hissed into Alfred's ear as we hurried back up the stairs to his room, but I only received an odd look back.
"No way, he believed my story."
"Your story sucked!"
"I do believe blanket-fighting is going to surpass wrestling some day."
"You used to believe Superman was real."
"Shut up." I slammed my hand to his door and gave him a grin.
"Make me." And he tried to, but it was always quite a challenge. I don't consider myself a loud person, but we easily got so into each other that we forgot about the sounds we were making, but we just couldn't ignore that when his parents were in the house. We never discussed what could happen if we were to be found out, supposedly because we feared the consequences so much that we didn't dare to think them through. I wasn't sure what Alfred's parents would think of all of it, but even less did I know about my own. Dad always told disgusting stories about gay men, and I knew he wouldn't approve of me being something that he had always considered a joke, but on the other hand I couldn't decide whether he would exclude me from the family or blame it all on society. One never knew with Dad.
Though we had our worries, we couldn't keep our lust down to three hours a day, but staying at my house was an impossibility, since my parents came and went following no regular schedule. Therefore we ended up at the weirdest places just to get some time alone. Sometimes we found peace in the shack, other times in the old bike shed by the school, and once or twice we got so desperate that we walked far out across a grass field and lied hidden by the lonesome bushes. I think Alfred's parents noticed that he had started to spend time with his old playmate again, but when out of sight they could only ponder about what we were up to. Luckily, Alfred's mom had never lost faith in me despite my change in appearance, so though we one day returned to dinner all dirty and with grass in our hair, she didn't question what we'd been up to. Rather she was happy to have me around again, and one day she even pulled me aside and hugged me, whispering:
"It's good to see you back." It got me emotional, but in the good way, and I proudly beamed to Alfred about being a true dream for any mother-in-law. He didn't find it funny though. He was still very focused on being with me but in a non-gay way. I had a feeling that he very well knew that what we were doing wasn't considered straight, but as long as I didn't say anything, he was just the innocent, naïve lad. It annoyed me in the way that I had started to feel very secure about my sexuality, and I wanted for him to just know what he wanted as well, because he had always been the one with all the right answers. But on the other hand that was exactly what made me love his insecurity; finally I got to be the know-it-all sexuality-expert, and I could take the lead and draw the map just as it fitted me. If there was something I was nervous about, I just had to explain it in a way that made my nervousness seem non-existent, and Alfred would believe my word right away. So whenever he was about to slip his hand to a part of my body that I didn't want for him to touch yet, I simply reminded him that doing something like that was so gay, and he would immediately stop. If I later on wanted for him to touch me anyway, I just changed the rules slightly and said stuff like:
"But it's only gay if you do it while kissing."
I was aware that I was abusing my power as the leader in our relationship, especially as I didn't knew anything about most of the things I made myself an expert in. But at the same time I knew that handing over any responsibility to Alfred would be a grave mistake.
Alfred was popular, but that didn't mean that he really had that many social skills. He couldn't tell the difference between a girl who liked him for his personality, and one who liked him for his popularity, and he had no idea about the appropriate way to behave in most situations. He was charming as hell, and that saved him most of the time, but when it came to understanding other's feelings, he was completely lost. I think that's why he couldn't see the trouble in breaking up with Rachel just days before Christmas - or even the trouble in postponing the break-up though he already knew he wasn't going to stay with her. Therefore I found it wise to keep myself as the leader as I discreetly guided Alfred through the life of a non-gay gay-kisser.
Summer came to an end. On our last day off we were sitting sheltered by the bike shed as the rain was pouring down like mad. I was sitting on Alfred's bomber jacket which he had spread out on the ground, and he was leaning up against a pole while looking through a book he should had spent the break reading. He was turning the pages too fast to really grasp the meaning of the words, but apparently he found that even holding the book had to be work enough in itself. I was watching him as his face turned from curios to bored to almost angry as the book just kept on going. I stretched my arms above my head and then tried to fix my messy hair. As we first arrived, Alfred had harshly pushed me to the side as he heard someone coming, and I had slipped and hammered my head into the ground, getting dirt and cigarette buds rubbed all over my hair. It turned out that what he'd heard was just a stray cat running around in between the bikes. It was now sitting next to Alfred as it was playing with his shoelaces. It reached its paw a bit too far up, and Alfred cried out as a fit set of claws dug into his leg. He stumbled over to me, scaring the cat out into the rain with his sudden movements, and I watched it flee around the school while he sat down next to me with a heavy sigh.
"I am going to fail English again this year," he announced me, and I took the book from him and turned it over to the back cover.
"Why did you start reading it this late?"
"Come again?" I looked at him. He pursed his lips and made a nasty kissing-sound, and I grinned and gently smacked his cheek with the book.
"If you'd told me that you needed to do homework, I would've kept it down."
"Don't you need to do your homework too?"
"I already did it all." Alfred gawked. I straightened up proudly and stretched my legs. "Yes, I am just that smart, Al."
"When did you do it?"
"When you were busy with Rachel."
"But when I was busy with Rachel, you were busy with Toris?"
"Yeah, I did it with him." Alfred glared at me. I glared back at him. He clearly couldn't comprehend that anyone would meet up to do homework. It made me ponder: "What were you doing when with Rachel?"
"Uh, stuff."
"What stuff?"
"Like, watching television and playing games and talking." Alfred scratched his arm. He was clearly not keen on this subject, and I bumped my shoulder to his and slowly pursed my lips, making a long, wet sound. He laughed and shook his head. "Not that."
"Are you sure?"
"Maybe a little.."
"Hmm.." Alfred took the book back from me and started to go through it again, his cheeks very red this time. I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't surprised that he had kissed her, not even that he still went around doing it, but still I felt a bit betrayed. Alfred wasn't my boyfriend, and I wasn't sure if I wanted him to be one, since I really liked being his best mate, but I had to make sure that I was his first priority anyway. I slipped my hand up across his leg and rested it on his knee. He peeked down at it and swallowed. "So you kiss her," I said, and he kept saying nothing. I gave his knee a light squeeze. "Does she make you hard?"
"I don't want to talk about that," Alfred mumbled and pushed my hand away. I took in a sharp breath through my nose and turned to face him fully.
"Why not?" Alfred started to move away from me. I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him back. "You're my best friend, come on! I didn't think we had secrets?" I was pressurizing him. He dropped his book to the ground and instead dug his fingers into the sleeve of his jacket. He looked like someone who desperately needed something to hold on to. I leaned in closer. "Al…"
"Not really," he whispered, and relieve went through my body in a happy heartbeat.
"Oh…" Alfred sat back in close to me, but he didn't look at me. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground.
"I still like my magazines," he said, and I raised my brows.
"What?"
"I like boobs and all the stuff between the legs, you know? It makes me hard. But Rachel doesn't. She's cool. But she doesn't make me hard." I sloped my head to the side as I tried to make sense of it.
"So you like girls, but not Rachel."
"I just don't want to touch her that way."
"Do you want to touch other girls that way?"
"I don't know.. Do you?" He looked me straight into the eyes, and I felt myself speechless for a moment. I wasn't sure what to say. How much had Alfred figured out about me? I wasn't sure what he thought I was, or what he thought I felt for him, and I suddenly felt very warm in worry. I grabbed at my shirt and tried to wave sweat off of it.
"Sometimes," I lied, and Alfred lit up into a smile.
"Yeah, sometimes I want to as well." I felt like a nasty, little liar. It only got worse. "How about with other boys?" he asked. My mouth went completely dry.
"You tell me," I whispered hoarsely.
"No, you first," he said sternly. I bit my lower lip.
"I-uhm…" I had no idea what would be the right answer. No matter what I said, I had the risk of Alfred not being honest with me, and I was immediately curious for if he ever jerked off thinking about a cock that wasn't mine. If I said no, he surely wouldn't admit to liking boys as well, but if I said yes, would he be honest with me or just look at me disgusted? I gasped in air. "Sometimes," I answered again, well aware that I was just stumbling my way down this odd road, but Alfred didn't find my answers off. He just nodded.
"Me too, sometimes," he admitted. I nodded. Then there was a solid silence. I listened to the rain hitting the roof above us, and Alfred seemed to find peace in his book once again. I was confused. Did this mean that Alfred played for both teams? Somehow I had come to believe that I was just a special case for him. Like if you normally like vanilla ice cream and then suddenly get a lump of chocolate into your mouth and realise that it's pretty good, just as long as you're not fed it too often. But apparently Alfred liked his cone with two balls.
After a while Alfred put his book down again and stared out into the rain. I was gently leaning against his shoulder, and as he hadn't said anything for a few minutes, my eyes had closed, and I had started to fall asleep. He woke me up with a sudden question:
"Did you ever touch Evan?" I blinked and yawned a bit.
"Evan?"
"You've said you don't like him anymore. Is it because he never touched you?" I straightened up and just shook my head weakly. It was almost ironic, because it was the other way around, but I couldn't very well tell him what had happened between us. I wasn't sure how he would react, but I knew for sure how I would feel; embarrassed. Embarrassed about just letting someone getting me drunk and fool around with me like that after I gave them my trust. I didn't want to appear dumb in front of Alfred, so I just shook my head again and sighed:
"It's nothing like that. I just… don't like him anymore."
"So he did touch you?"
"No, Alfred - why is this even important?"
"Have you ever touched other guys?" I raised my brows and glared at him. He blushed and stuttered: "I-I mean, in the way that we touch each other… Like… Close…?" I kept staring at him while his face turned dark in colour, and his pupils started to shake. So that's what it was all about. I placed my hand on his shoulder, gave it a squeeze and in a stern voice I said:
"Alfred." In a very shaken voice he answered:
"A-Arthur?" And I pushed him to the ground in a swift move and climbed on top of him, settling myself astride of his stomach as I picked up the book.
"Scene one, a public place" I read out aloud and looked across the top of the book. Alfred was blinking and looking quite confused, so I stuck my nose in between the pages. "In the story of Romeo and Juliet, in which Romeo doesn't go around touching other men's junk." I looked down at him again, and finally he smiled, getting what I meant.
"Cool." He struggled to get up. I made myself heavier and continued:
"Enter Sampson and Gregory armed with swords and bucklers."
"Don't, I can read it myself."
"Sampson: Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals."
"O?"
"Gregory: No, for then we should be colliers."
"What a joke."
"I think it was meant that way."
"Don't think, keep reading." Alfred made himself comfortable underneath me, and I started to read him the story of the love between Romeo and Juliet.
At school love was hard to find. Alfred went straight back into his fame and glory, and I sat alone at break with my fingers holding tightly onto a mug of bad tea from the cafeteria. I was trying not to make myself noticed nor notice anyone looking at me, but it was painfully clear how the alternative table was giving me looks and whispering back and forth about me, and I was slowly turning my back to face them, getting more and more into my poor mug. Evan hadn't come around for the whole summer, so I supposed Elizabeta had let him know that I wasn't interested in seeing him anymore. Still it felt odd that he just sat there at the table, not offering me a single word or look, and he didn't even flinch when I walked by the table on my way out. Someone pulled at my rucksack and made me stumble, but as I turned to see who did it, they were all looking at each other innocently. I gave Evan a nasty glare, but he just looked away. "Bastards," I hissed.
"Did you really think you were something?" I looked over the known heads to find the one who had spoken. I didn't recognize the voice, and as I finally saw who was the one speaking, I didn't recognize the face either. It was a boy sitting next to Evan. He was at least a year younger than me, had black hair and very grey eyes. As I looked him in the eyes, he put a hand on Evan's arm and smiled sweetly at me. "Frigid body," he whispered and gave me a dirty look up and down, and I took in a deep breath, stepped forward, then turned around and hastily threw my mug across the table and right into Evan's chest. He cried up and jumped to his legs, and his little friend did as well, crying: "Oh my God, oh my God!" as if it was a prayer. I leapt my way out of the cafeteria. I could hear quick footsteps following me, and as I turned down the hallways to reach the stairs, a hand grabbed my shoulder and forced me up against the wall. I looked into the eyes of Elizabeta.
"Don't be foolish," she said. I pushed her off of me.
"You heard what he said."
"Still.."
"And Evan said nothing."
"Evan's a fucker." I looked at her with my eyes all red. I didn't want to cry, but I felt like it, having seen that kid being so close to Evan. I knew what he was; the lad's newest toy. I had easily been replaced.
"I bet that boy lets him fuck the shit out of his ass," I sobbed, and Elizabeta sighed and searched her pockets for a napkin. She found an old one of paper and handed it to me, and I snatched it from her and blew my nose in it.
"You shouldn't care."
"But I do. Why didn't you care enough to tell me?" I asked her, and she looked away as a group of students passed by. I slipped around the corner and pressed myself up against a door leading into an empty classroom. She followed me and stood at the corner so that she shadowed for me. I gratefully wiped my eyes off while no one looked. "All the times he disappeared at parties… He was messing around with others, right?" Elizabeta nodded.
"Right."
"Fucker."
"Here." She handed me yet a napkin. I took it and rubbed my cheeks off in it.
"He hasn't even apologized."
"He doesn't apologize. He just… has his fun and moves on. He's nasty."
"If you think he's so nasty, why do you still sit at the table with him?" She seemed like one who wanted to answer, but couldn't. I blew my nose once again.
"I don't have many friends, Arthur."
"Neither do I," I sobbed and threw the napkins to the floor. I kicked them in behind a chair. "But I don't fuck up the friendships I have."
"I am sorry, alright?" I crossed my arms and looked out of the window. She grabbed my arm. "Look, I don't know what else to say, Arthur."
"I still don't want to be friends with you," I said sternly and looked at her. "I have Toris. I don't need you." She backed away at that, and without another word she slipped back into the cafeteria. I was aware that I had been harsh, but I felt it was only fair. I had some pride to redeem, and there was a certain logic to my words. I really didn't need anyone as long as I had Alfred outside of school and Toris inside. I just had to accept this situation for another year, then I could move on to high school and forget all about the bad memories here. I really couldn't wait.
Already the next day, however, things had changed. When I went to eat my lunch alone at the table, I noticed that a few seats at the alternative table were empty. I had hardly gotten to see whose faces weren't there when Heracles sat down in front of me and smiled a lazy smile.
"Hey," he said, and I gave him a little nod. I couldn't be truly mad at Heracles as he hadn't had anything to do with Evan at all. He had his other friends outside of school, and he hardly ever hung out with us in the time I knew him. I couldn't believe he had had anything to do with the party, especially as he hadn't been there, so as he started speaking to me, I didn't give him the cold shoulder. "I haven't seen you all summer. Been busy?" I nodded.
"I've been with family and friends."
"Went anywhere?"
"Not really. You?"
"No, slept most of the time." He grinned, and I chuckled and unwrapped my sandwich.
"I am not surprised."
"Mhmm…" For a while we ate in silence. Then suddenly the chair next to Heracles was pulled out as well, and Elizabeta took a seat. I glared at her. She cleared her throat.
"Can I sit here?" I looked at Heracles. He cleared his throat as well:
"Can she?" I glared at both of them at once. They smiled. What a conspiracy. I put down my sandwich.
"If any of you ever fuck with me again-" I started, but I didn't need to finish my warning.
"We won't," Elizabeta said, and she leaned in over the table again. "I really am sorry." I just shrugged, and we all went back to eating our food. I threw a look towards Evan. He was staring at me while the toy at his arm was desperately trying to get his attention by tugging at his shirts. Evan pulled his arm away. 1-0 to me. I felt like the king of the world.
To some it may have seemed pathetic that I took back Elizabeta as a friend, but for me it was just as much about winning over Evan. Elizabeta proved that she cared more for me by not hanging out with him anymore, and even though we didn't really go to see each other after school, just knowing that she was somewhat my ally at school helped me a lot when I had a bad day.
Besides Alfred, I only really spent time with Toris, but for me that was enough. Toris was a kind and intelligent lad with a great sense of humour, and with him I finally got the chance to make fun of American football and be in love with the Queen without him considering it odd. I felt so comfortable around him that I often started rambling about stuff that I would normally not tell others about, and it was that way that he found out Alfred and I had gotten a bit closer than most friends do. It occurred to him over time as he noticed small things in my stories that stood out to him, like if I mentioned that we held hands or sat close or slept in the same bed. I didn't have to put the pieces together for him, he did it himself, and as I one day walked him to the bus stop to see him catch the bus home, he turned to me and gravely asked:
"Do you like Alfred?" The question came as quite a surprise to me, and as an immediate reaction I stuttered:
"He's a good friend." Toris eyed me suspiciously.
"That's all?"
"That's all." He took a step away from me and started to zip up his jacket. I tried to built up spit in my mouth, but it had gone completely dry. "Why do you ask?"
"I just…" he shrugged and avoided looking at me. He was peeking in the direction of the bus. "I worry, alright?"
"There's nothing to worry about," I assured him with laughter in my voice, but he kept looking upset. The bus came driving around the corner. It stopped in front of us. I stepped over to hug him, but before I could get to do it, he had stepped into the bus. I blinked. He paid the driver and looked out at me.
"Be careful," he said, and the doors closed, and I could just stand there and watch the vehicle take of.
"Why?" I mumbled to the air. I got no answer.
I wasn't sure what was up with Toris when it came to the friendship between Alfred and I, but he wasn't keen on discussing the subject either, so it was hard for me to get a straight answer from him. In the end I gave up trying, and I just stopped talking about Alfred when I was with him. It was a bit sad, since I sometimes just wanted to share a good story because he had become a dear friend to me, but on the other hand I doubted that Alfred really went around sharing stories about me with anyone. Not that I really knew anything about his friends.
Alfred seemed to hang out with everyone from the football-team. As soon as someone showed interest in sports, he was all over them. Apparently there was also special parties for the team-members only, and he would go to most of them to have fun. He once invited me to go to one with him, but I declined. Not just because there would only be sport-fanatics, because most of those muscular guys were pretty hot, but rather because their parties reminded me of those I had went to before meeting Evan. No alcohol, no one smoking, no one dressing individualistic and no loud rock music. It was all pop and popcorn. Somehow I felt too old for that and way too mature to be partying with guys only my age. I had just gotten used to hanging out with high school blokes and college kids, and after having passed the first awkward stage of no one speaking to me, I had picked up on their way of talking and gotten pretty good at sounding a few years older than I was. I had lied about having had sex, being close to celebrities and even doing drugs. The last one was my biggest mistake as the word was spread, and guys started to come up to me while I was dancing, whispering into my ear how they had a good deal to offer me. Sometimes I would still see them on the street and had to avoid them seeing me. I wasn't interesting in getting messed up from taking a wrong step.
What was more messed up than anything, though, was the developing relationship between Alfred and I. When we saw each other at school, we would just greet and maybe chat a little, but we never really talked until class has ended and we could both catch the bus home. I think part of it was that while I was hanging out with Evan, I was for most parts avoiding Alfred, so now, even though we had grown to be close, we couldn't get used to being best friends in between classes like before. Alfred would be outside doing whatever the other boys were doing, and I would sit and do homework or stroll around the hallways with Elizabeta or Toris, sharing lunch and thoughts.
But then, when school ended, we were all over each other again. We would mostly go to his house to use the three hours of being left alone, and then either part or play games for the rest of the day. We also started to share our hobbies more. Alfred would teach me stuff about guns and the gun-laws in the states, and he would let me know if the different football teams had lost or won, and what the right way to improve your strength was. In return I would tell him tales from all over the world, show him how to draw different stuff (he specially liked to draw tanks), and I would make sure he knew all the members of the Royal family by name and status.
One could be fooled to think that with summer ending and homework starting to pile up again, we would be too busy to hang out as much as before, but actually the opposite happened. Instead of us just making out and feeling up each other's bodies, we came closer and spent time listening to each other. When it came to homework, we got good at finishing it quickly; Alfred easily explained the logic behind triangles to me, and I showed him how he could do a good essay from having read only the back cover of a book. I was surprised to find that he was very gifted when it came to numbers and actually doing stuff.
"As long as there are rules, it's easy," as he told me. Rules had always appeared restraining to me, and therefore I preferred writing, as you could never really pinpoint the correct way to do a short story or an essay; you just learnt to be creative. However, for Alfred that was too much work, and he was just as devastated about doing a paper as I was about doing sit-ups at PE. Sadly, though Alfred could do my homework in maths, he couldn't do anything to help me when I was in the field, running 2 miles, and though he eagerly tried to make me go with him for a run, I, just as eagerly, sent him off running alone while enjoying a cup of tea.
I was doing just that one day as Alfred's mom found me in her living room. I had made myself a fairly large mug of strawberry-tea and was slowly sipping it while I was keeping an eye on Alfred outside on the lawn, doing push-ups in between running up and down the road. I looked up and gave her a smile as she sat down next to me. "Hey there," I greeted. She ruffled my hair.
"I see I am not the only one who prefer the sofa over the sneakers," she said, and I laughed.
"He's nuts. Look at him - a bit more work-out and his muscles will rip his shirt." She did look at him. She sloped her head to the side as she followed her son with her gaze, watching him trying to climb a tree he had suddenly gotten his eyes on. She was smiling warmly.
"He never runs out of energy."
"That's true." I took a sip of my mug and leaned back up against the backrest. She now looked at me and corrected her skirt.
"You and Alfy has gotten close again, hah?" she asked, and I nodded with a light blush.
"Yeah, well, we never really stopped being friends…"
"It's only good you're back. You're a true friend to him." I looked at her curiously.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, and she sighed as if she regretted her words. Still she carried on.
"Well, he has gotten popular! I am aware of that.. But it's sometimes hard to know your real friends from the amazed lot. Do you get what I mean?" I nodded and looked into my mug.
"I do," I mumbled.
"So it's good to know he still has one good lad keeping him company." She placed her hand on my shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. I smiled, but at the same time I felt a bit bad. If she knew just what kinds of things this good lad was doing to her son, would she still like me?
"There's Rachel as well," I said quietly, maybe just not to sound all that special as she made me feel. Her smile fell, and she cocked a brow. I noticed, but as she didn't say anything, I cleared my throat. "I mean, his girlfriend, right?"
"He hasn't told you?" she asked quietly and shook her head.
"What?" She sighed again and grabbed around her skirt.
"Oh, I shouldn't discuss this with you." She got up and started to walk towards the kitchen. I placed my mug on the table and quickly turned around in the sofa to look after her. Now I was extremely curious.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "What should he have told me?" She stopped up and crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorway. I could clearly see how she was at conflict with herself about whether to tell me or not. Then she ran her fingers through her hair.
"That stupid boy," she mumbled, then she looked at me and smiled a bit. "They already broke up. Quite some time ago even. But I never said anything." With that she left the living room. I sank back down into the sofa with my eyes wide open. They broke up? But why wouldn't he tell me that he broke up with her? He told me he wouldn't do it until December came around!
…but maybe she had been the one to break up with him? I glared out the window. Alfred jumped down from the tree he'd climbed and proudly straightened up. When he saw me looking, he waved at me and grinned widely. I waved back. I couldn't understand what kind of game he was playing. Just as I thought I was leading it all, he decided to go and become an active player again. Somehow it upset me, but at the same time I couldn't ask him any questions since he would want to know from where I got my information. I cared a lot for his mom, and I wouldn't like to put her in the spot. If she was someone he confessed things to, I wouldn't like to ruin it for neither of them, but at the same time his silence made me uncomfortable.
As he'd taken a bath and gotten dressed again, I acted as if I noticed the picture of a big-breasted chick on his wall by coincidence. "That reminds me," I said and pointed to it, "how're things between you and Rachel?" He didn't even flinch as he sat down next to me on the bed and shrugged.
"Good, I guess."
"Still together?" He nodded and looked at me with raised brows.
"Why?"
"No reason.." I scratched my arm and looked away. What a brilliant liar. I just wanted to shout it in his face, but I knew it would be better for me to wait. But maybe I waited too long. Exactly two months and twelve days after we'd started school again, only three days after I asked Alfred about Rachel, she showed up at my front door.
"I have a feeling," she said, "that you took Alfred from me." I didn't know what to say. Then she started to cry. For once I remembered a useful sentence Evan taught me, and silently I mouthed:
Fuck my life.
Note: Sorry I have been slow, I hope you can understand! I have been busy doing homework, and then my power plug broke, so until I can afford a new one, I am stuck with a small notebook that isn't easy writing on, eugh. I am doing my best, though, I promise!
I hope you don't feel the story is moving too slow - I just need to clear out a lot of things before we move on. I hope you don't mind and that you still like the chapters! And, guys? Thanks for commenting so much, I am really surprised! It means a lot to me, so a big, big thank you from here!
I went to a convention earlier this month and was very pleased to see an England who looked exactly like the real (erh, comic?)-stuff. I was just too shy to say hello. Hahah. I suck.
Enjoy your weekend - I will enjoy mine. It's snowing over here, wooh!