Hey guys! I'm pretty sure I got this one up in close to a month so I guess that's progress?
I got a few questions in the reviews so...
loricnumbersix6: I'll warn you, Riley and Stanley is going to be a slow burn, because both of those characters still have some issues to work out. Jix will take a shorter amount of time for sure. Maybe not sometime in the next couple of chapters, but it's coming. Thanks for the review by the way, I'm glad you like the story and I hope you continue to :)
Guest: Glad you liked the Joseph POV, I wasn't so sure about it but if you guys found it good, than I'm Alright with that :) Honestly, until I read your review I had completely forgotten that Stanley hadn't had a POV since forever ago. Thanks for reminding me and thanks for the review!
Guest: I don't think I'll be writing any books soon but thank you for the lovely review :) As for your question: if you mean 'more coming' as in chapters? Yes, for sure. If you mean 'more coming' as in stories? I have a few ideas, but since I can hardly keep up with this one, I'll have to wait until I have more time on my hands :)
lorienlegacies96: First of all, great idea! The thought has actually crossed my mind, and I would love to write more stories, but I just don't have the time :( If it's any consolation, the characters in this story can't stay high schoolers forever... Thanks for the review!
To anyone else who left a review, thank you. The support means a lot and motivates me to write, and I love reading them.
Anyway, I'm posting this at three in the morning so forgive me if there's any mistakes I haven't picked up on. Read on, and I hope you enjoy :)
John
I walk into Mr. Byrne's class, confused after the announcement that went over the speakers in the school, telling all of the students to go to homeroom first thing in the morning. Usually we only go to homeroom after second period for ten minutes so the teachers can tell us the daily announcements, so this is a weird occurrence. I texted Stanley and Joseph to ask why, but neither of them knew either.
I smile at Riley as I walk to the back of the class, toward the empty seat next to her. I used to talk to her a little bit in homeroom before I became friends with Maren, but I think both of us feel more comfortable making conversation now that our friend groups have merged. Plus, we're in the same Math and English class this year, so we see each other pretty often anyway.
"Hey." I greet as I sit down, laying my books on the desk and nodding at her. She's smiling and has her head tilted to the side.
"You cut your hair." She says. I've noticed she does that a lot; starts off a conversation with a statement rather than a proper greeting. I don't mind, it gives the conversation something to build on right off the bat.
"Oh, yeah." I chuckle a bit, automatically reaching a hand up to touch the subject in question. The shorter cut feels strange under my fingers, but it's easier to manage, and as Dad told me, it looks classier. "Easier to deal with." I explain.
Riley nods understandingly. "It looks nice." She says, smiling with half her mouth so one eye squints more than the other. "Classy." She adds. I guess Dad was right.
"Thanks." I say. I'm honestly glad I've gotten some female approval for the new look, seeming I'll be seeing Maren sometime in the next couple of hours. I wouldn't admit it, but her suggestion of the idea accounts for at least a little bit of the reason I decided to make the change. "Do you know why we're here?" I ask Riley, changing the subject.
Her eyebrows pinch together and she chuckles a little. "Uh, to learn?" She replies. I raise my eyebrows at her, waiting for her to get it. As I suspected, her expression clears shortly after. "Oh! You mean homeroom, not the entire school. Yeah, that makes a lot more sense." She rolls her eyes, pressing her lips together in disappointment at herself. It's funny, you can always tell what emotion she's feeling just by the look on her face. She just might have the most animated series of expressions I've ever seen.
I laugh at her and she quickly smiles, having no trouble making fun of herself. "It's for the fundraiser thing the school does every year. You know, when they give us tickets and we have to go out and sell a bunch." She explains. My eyebrows shoot up, surprised that she actually knew the answer when everyone else seems to be clueless about the subject.
"How did you know that?" I ask.
"It was in the newsletter." She replies like it's obvious.
"We have a school newsletter?"
She nods. "Yeah, but don't feel too bad for not knowing about it, nobody actually reads it." She explains. I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion.
"Didn't you read it?"
"Well... Yeah" she says. I don't question it, and just chuckle.
I like the ease of the conversation, although it's almost impossible for an exchange to be awkward when talking to Riley anyway. She constantly fills silences and always has an amused reaction to a joke or a comeback. A lot like Joseph actually, but just a little calmer.
We both divert our attention to the intercom as it beeps twice before the principle's voices rings out over the system, beginning to explain the fundraiser. The higher grades know how it all works by now anyway, but I listen regardless. She goes over the procedure, explaining how people who want to sell tickets can get booklets of them from their homeroom teachers. The buyer's tickets go into a draw to win a two thousand dollar travel voucher from the local agency, and the profits raise money for the school, which helps sports teams and other stuff.
When she finishes explaining the fundraiser Mr. Byrne starts going around and asking all of the students how many booklets they want. He's an easy-going teacher, and I luckily have him for Bio. When he comes around to me, I take two so I can show some semblance of contribution. It's two dollars per ticket or five dollars for three, so you'll get twenty dollars if you sell a whole booklet. I'll just get Dad to buy both of them.
Once Mr. Byrne goes over the prizes for the best sellers, we get dismissed for our classes.
-Page Break-
"You cut your hair."
Maren looks at me as I sit down, eyebrows raised in appreciation, or is that just politeness. It's hard to tell with her. The only assurance I have is that she doesn't look absolutely disgusted, so I guess that's something.
"Well, you did tell me to." I reply, taking a seat at the cafeteria table that has since become the regular lunch table for our group. Maren somehow manages to get here faster than anyone else most times. I'm not sure how she's does it, but if I were to take a guess, I would say she doesn't like to be in class longer than she has to.
"That was one time." She says. "I didn't know you were going to take it to heart." She starts opening her lunch bag and I shrug.
"It was a good suggestion."
Her eyes dart up to mine as she takes a container out of her bag, no doubt containing a sandwich. "Was it though?" She inquires, eyeing my hair again before opening her container.
A strike of panic runs through me and I reach a hand up to feel it, like I've been doing a lot today. "Uh... yes?" I say, now unsure.
The corner of Maren's mouth pulls into a slight smile, her eyes amused. I realize she was joking. I've gotten better at picking up when she's kidding now, but I'm still not all the way there. "Your hair looks great, John." She assures. She takes a moment to look at it again, stuck on how to describe it I'm guessing. After a short second, she adds, "Classy."
I chuckle. "So I've been told." She arches an eyebrow in question, but before I can elaborate, Marina approaches the table, unsurprisingly followed by Joseph shortly after.
"Nice hair, man." He says as she sits down next to me, nodding in approval.
"Yeah. Looks classy." Marina comments.
I raise my eyebrows at Maren, communicating a 'see?' look. I'm pretty sure she holds back a a laugh when her eyes meet mine, but she only shrugs like, 'well it does'. Her expressions are always subtle; a slightly arched eyebrow, a small lift at the corner of her mouth or a quick glance. They're small portrayals of emotion that are easy to miss, but once aware of them, quite impossible to ignore. The only expressions that she really lets stand out are the confident ones, like a smirk or a wry smile. There's no mistaking that Maren is a hard person to read, but the task seems to be getting easier.
Riley is next to sit down, setting her lunch bag on the table and looking at the sandwich Maren is picking up.
"Ham?" She asks.
"Ham." Maren replies uninterestedly.
Riley nods and looks over at Marina, who's in the process of taking something out of her bag. "Salad?"
"Garden."
"Cool."
Apparently satisfied with that exchange, they continue their eating and unpacking like normal. This time my confused glance is directed at Joseph, the only other person sitting at the table who seems aware that a series of one word sentences should not logically lead to an understanding. He just shakes his head at me.
I notice movement coming toward us and focus my vision to see Stanley striding in the direction of the table, a piece of paper in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. He's usually the last to get here, due to his insistence to get his lunch from the cafeteria line. He usually takes his time sauntering over, maybe slowing down to wink at a couple of his admirers before taking a seat. Today though, he walks like he's on a mission.
He drops his food down next to Riley and stays standing for a moment, leaning down so he rests his hands on the table's edge, pushing his body weight into them.
"One word..." he announces seriously, "second place."
"That's two words." Maren says.
"Nuance." He dismisses, waving his hand. He goes to sit down in the space next to Riley and she leans over to Maren while he's putting a leg over the bench.
"The guy can't count, but he knows what nuance means." She says, so quiet I'm sure I only heard it because I'm sitting almost directly across from her. The corner of Maren's mouth quirks up slightly- one of those subtle expressions- and she looks down at her food.
"Heard that." Stanley roughly drops into his seat, not looking the least bit offended like his words would suggest. Riley looks sheepish anyway, which makes him smirk.
"Why second place?" Joseph speaks up. "Don't people usually aim for first?"
"Not this time." Stanley replies. He looks excited, and I can't decide if it's a good or bad thing. "Not us. We are aiming for second." He makes a circular gesture with his finger around the table, indicating our group. I'm sure all of our expressions of confusion are similar. He takes a bite of his pizza.
Maren clears her throat before speaking. "Uh... what?"
"Alright, does anyone know how many tickets the winning group sold last year for the contest?" He asks around the food in his mouth.
"Why do you know?" I ask.
"I don't." He looks confused and I realize that he was asking a legitimate question. "Seriously, does anyone know?" I remember the number was mentioned briefly in the announcements last year, but I never took note of it. I don't know who would.
"Why would anyone-"
"It was like, two thousand one hundred sixty four dollars worth." Riley says casually, answering the question and successfully cutting off Joseph's words. She picks a chip out of her container on the table as we all blink stupidly at her, with the exception of Marina and Maren, who don't look all that surprised. Riley glances up from her food when she notices the silence, her eyes darting around the table before her expression turns sheepish. "Uh, give or take." She adds quietly.
Stanley chuckles. "And how many booklets is that, Miss Pierce?" He looks to her for another answer.
"Oh, I don't know..." She shakes her head, avoiding our eyes like she's embarrassed. "Each booklet is twenty dollars and twenty doesn't divide evenly into two thousand one hundred sixty four, so there would have to be some single tickets sold and they're two dollars each. There's way more than one possibility-"
"Give us the largest amount it could be." Marina interrupts Riley's math rambling with a slight laugh, though reassuring all the same. Riley thinks about it for only a second.
"A hundred and eight." She says.
Josephs mouth drops open. "Booklets?" He asks.
"Give or take." Riley repeats. Uncomfortable with all of the eyes on her, she awkwardly clears her throat. "Uh, why is this relevant?" She asks Stanley.
"Well, I was thinking we could enter the ticket selling thing as a group so we can get the second place group prize." He explains. He pushes the piece of paper he sat down with into the centre of the table. I look at it and see that it's the notes from the briefing this morning.
"How did you get this?" I ask, knowing none of the students got a copy.
"I took it from Ms. Green's desk on the way out." He says like it's completely acceptable.
Since nobody else seems to be taking the initiative, I pick up the paper and scan through the words. "Second place group prize: box seats to the Legacies game." I read.
The Legacies is the AHL team in our area, and it's a pretty good prize considering most of the games are usually sold out, and also considering the sheer amount of interest most people have for the sport around here.
I move my eyes up to the first place prize and find that it's a weekend trip to a ski resort over Christmas break. I can see why Stanley set his sights on second place. The ski resort is eight hours drive away, so I would assume that most of us have not had much of a chance to practice the activity.
"Okay, that's a good prize and everything, but that's a lot of tickets to sell in a couple of weeks." Maren reasons.
"And how are going to know what place we're in?" Marina adds.
"We won't. That's why I asked how many tickets were sold last year. We just need to sell a little less than that." Stanley says, completely confident in his plan.
"You know that's not actually a good plan right? There's no guaranteeing that the top group is going to sell the same amount of tickets as last year." Maren says.
Stanley rolls his eyes. "Don't be so optimistic, sweetheart, we might actually think you're excited." He says sarcastically. Maren opens her mouth, a witty retort undoubtedly on the tip of her tongue, but Stanley speaks again before she can get the chance to say anything. "Anyway, the point is that you all need to get a lot more tickets to sell if we're going to try for this."
"Hold on, nobody has even agreed to this yet." I point out.
"Well we need at least three people to enter as group. So it's either we all join, or some of you don't get to go to a hockey game." He says.
It doesn't take long for us all to agree that we'll do it, if not for the sake of hockey tickets, than for the sake of generally raising money for the school.
"Perfect, I'll just go to the office and register us as a group." Stanley says after we've all decided. He pushes his now empty paper plate out of the way and leans his forearms on the table. I don't realize why he's looking at me weird until he points to my hair. "I like the new look, Johnny." He nods as though affirming his statement. Then he adds, "Classy."
"Thanks." I say to him, smiling like I'm not running out of ways to respond to the comment that I've now heard on five separate occasions. I skim over the team section of the sheet again and raise an eyebrow. "It says here we need a team name."
I notice Maren's eyebrows tug together, but the expression looks more tired than anything. "Seriously?" She asks. I understand her exasperation. After all, I'm not sure going door-to-door to sell over a hundred books of tickets is actually worth what we'll get if we win.
"I think it'll be fun." Joseph counters brightly, then strikes an expression of determination. "Now all we have to do is create a name to strike fear in the hearts of our enemies!" He makes a fist and strikes the table with it to add to the dramatic declaration.
"Alright, calm down there, Ares." Marina says, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. I chuckle because I can see this type of situation being common in their relationship; Joseph going over the top only for Marina to calm him down. I'm glad they're together. Her calm, thoughtful nature is good for him just like his optimistic excitement is sometimes good for her I'm sure. They seem to compliment each other well.
Across the table, Stanley looks confused as everyone finds amusement at the comment. Riley notices and leans over, quietly telling him what I assume to be an explanation of the joke, that Ares is the God of war. His face clears and he nods, smiling.
"Anybody have any ideas?" I ask.
"Well we are in grade twelve." Joseph says. "How about we call ourselves something wise, like 'the elders' or something."
"Yeah, I'm not being on a team named after a bunch senior citizens, thank you very much." Maren says flatly. I hold back a chuckle but I can't stop a grin. She looks nonchalant, and I might think she's not amused. But then she catches my eye and the corner of her mouth twitches for a second before she looks away.
"Okay, anyone have a different angle to approach it from?" Marina suggests.
We naturally look to Riley for an answer after she helped with the first question, but she seems to be no help right now. "Don't look at me. I'm not creative." She says.
"Well, we want to keep ourselves away from first place, but also not be overtaken by third." Stanley muses.
"So, we're kind of... protecting second place?" Marina clues in, thankfully since I didn't know where Stanley was going with his statement.
He grins. "You got it, Princess."
He seems to actually care about this name, which I find funny since nobody could give less of a crap about whether we have a poetic meaning behind our title, or any meaning at all for that matter. We could probably call ourselves 'the elephants' and nobody would question it.
"So like... 'The Protectors' or 'The defence'. Something like that?" Joseph asks. Stanley nods, but doesn't seem sold. Wanting to make this go faster, I just say the first thing that comes to my head.
"How about 'The Guard'?"
Stanley looks at me and nods, grinning. It seems he's found a winner. "That's it, Johnny. Anyone object?"
He scans around the table as though anyone is actually going to shout their disapproval and open up the discussion again. After a few seconds, he taps the table with a fist, like he's a judge hammering down a mallet. "Then we shall be known as 'The Guard'."
-Page Break-
It seems that statement wasn't entirely true. I know because when I went to ask Mr. Byrne for more tickets later, he asked the name of my team so he could make sure we all got credit for my tickets sold. I told him the name we had chosen but according to him, that name wasn't in the system.
Turns out, due to a spelling error made by Stanley, we shall not be known as 'The Guard' but rather, 'The Garde".
Maren already thought naming the team was stupid. I can't imagine how ecstatic she'll be when she finds this out.
Marina
"Okay, big decision time..." Riley announces from her room. She waits a dramatic amount of time before continuing. "Which hat should I wear?"
I just shrug, in the process of packing our combined total of tickets into one backpack. "Whatever makes you happy."
"Not the Toronto one." Maren yells.
"Alright, so the the Maple Leafs are out. Got it."
Even before she comes out the room, I know she'll have it on. Sure enough, the navy ball cap is on her head as she comes into the living room, the logo of her favourite NHL team embroidered on the front. Maren lets out a short huff of annoyance, their hockey rivalry as alive as ever, or at least Maren's hatred for that specific team is. Her team is Pittsburg.
"There's something wrong with you." She mutters, sitting on the arm of the couch as she watches me uninterestedly.
"Oh, there is a lot wrong me, dear Maren. This-" Riley points to the hat, "is not one of them."
"I disagree." Maren argues as Riley heads into the kitchen, still visible since there's not really a wall separating the kitchen from the living room. She opens the fridge for a second, then closes it before starting to open cupboards at random. "What are you looking for?"
"Food." She answers. I turn back to the bags but hear the quick opening and closing of cupboard doors. "I swear, there is never anything to eat in this freaking- ooh, what's this?" One final cupboard door closes and she laughs. "What? We never have chocolate bars!" She says in amazement.
"I'm having some." Maren states. Riley must approve of it because Maren picks a piece off when she stands next to her. "You look like you're going on a wilderness hike." She says, noting Riley's large zip up sweater and low bun. The hat adds to the look, though it's common for her to wear one outside of school anyway.
"It's gonna be cold, and we're probably not going to get back before dark either." She holds the bar out to me but I shake my head at the invitation. "I can lend you a jacket if you want." Riley offers.
"I'll be okay."
Hearing her words, I look over my shoulder at her. "In that? Really, Maren?" I shake my head at her hoodie, knowing just as well as she does that the temperature will only drop from now. I zipper up the bag and turn to her as she shrugs. "Fine, freeze then. I don't care." I hand the bag off to Riley.
"Why do I have to take it?" She complains, but puts it over her shoulders anyway.
"Well, I packed it so I'm not carrying it, and if we ask Maren she'll just say no anyway."
Riley and Maren both nod; the latter in approval, Riley in resignation. "I am getting you a jacket though." Riley says to her. She scrunches up the now empty bar wrapper and moves into the kitchen to throw it away.
"Yeah." I agree, pinching the sleeve of Maren's sweater as I walk past, finding that it's thin. "That hoodie isn't even thick. You do know it's almost winter right?"
"Yes, I'm just not a wimp like you guys." She retorts childishly. I turn around and raise my eyebrows warningly at her from the porch, pulling on a sneaker.
Riley comes out of the kitchen looking offended at her comment. "Well, at least we're not losers like you, Maren." She makes an 'L' with her hand and points it at her. I shake my head and almost laugh, noticing her mistake but also knowing Maren will notice it too.
"Wrong hand, genius."
"Is it really?" She takes a look at her hand and laughs after realizing her mistake. "Today is really not my day." She says, still chuckling.
"Is any day your day?" Maren asks, shoving her shoe on without bothering to untie it, hence why the back is collapsing and worn out.
"Where are you guys going?" I hear Maren let out a a quiet curse as Stephanie comes up the hall, looking uninterestedly at our clothing and packed bag. The older girl looks just as disappointed to see Maren, though any foul remark either one of them could have made regarding the others presence is interrupted as Riley answers first.
"Selling tickets. We're aiming for second place." She replies proudly. Stephanie acknowledges her with a quick raising of her eyebrows before disappearing into the kitchen. "Anyway, what jacket do you want?" Riley swings open the door of a small closet in the porch, gesturing grandly to the tightly packed assortment of coats in the small space.
"It doesn't matter really." Maren shrugs, shoving on her other sneaker just as un-carefully as the first.
"Okay then, here." Riley pulls a blue flannel coat that looks a couple sizes too big for Maren out her her collection. I snort at the selection and the look on Maren's face is telling of her disagreement.
"I'm not wearing that."
"Oh come on, it's the only thing that'll go over the hoodie." Riley defends.
"It's also the only thing that seems to have made it through whatever time machine you're keeping in there." Maren counters, looking the piece of clothing up and down with widened eyes at its state. I notice the fraying fabric and faded, scuffed-out colours too. Seriously, this thing looks a couple of decades old at least.
"Hey! Plaid is coming back."
"Not that kind of plaid." I say in mock horror, shaking my head. This situation here is a prime example of why Riley doesn't stray from an outfit of hoodies and jeans, and although Maren's style is similar, they have very different reasons for it. Maren's style sense is called 'because it's comfortable' whereas Riley's style sense is labeled somewhere around the word 'nonexistent'.
"If you like it so much, you wear it." Maren challenges. I think the only reason she agrees is because she wants to get out the door. They quickly switch jackets, and as Riley is putting her arms through the sleeves, Stephanie calls out from the kitchen.
"Riley, have you seen a chocolate bar around? I bought one for myself today and I can't remember where I put it."
Riley's eyes widen and her arm freezes mid motion, the coat sleeve hanging halfway off her arm. I press my lips together to stifle a laugh.
"No, I... uh... yeah, nope. Didn't see anything." Riley mumbles, now making a faster effort at getting her coat on.
"You sure?" Stephanie calls out.
"We didn't see your stupid bar." Maren replies loudly, sparing Riley from her terrible lying attempts as she shoves on a pair of converse. Stephanie grumbles something incoherent and I can hear the opening and closing of cupboard doors, much like earlier. Suddenly the sounds stop and a pause is audible.
"Why is the wrapper in the garbage?" Stephanie's voice is louder this time, more demanding.
"Uh, were gonna head out, Steph. See you later!" Riley calls quickly, then whispering quietly to us, "Run."
"Riley!"
-Page Break-
"Alright, that's five booklets down." I say as we walk away from probably the twentieth door we've hit this evening.
"Only three hundred more to go." Maren notes dryly. I roll my eyes, stuffing one booklet of ticket stubs into a pouch in the bag, still on Riley's back as we continue walking.
"Glad to see we're all taking an optimistic approach." I mutter, closing up the bag. Maren just shrugs, Riley however turns around with a grin. I don't think her cheeriness is appreciated by Maren.
"Did someone say optimism?" She asks with mock enthusiasm, walking backwards in front of us. Maren doesn't look amused, probably already annoyed with the excess amount of human interaction she's been forced to put up with today.
"I actually said optimistic-"
"Don't care." Riley interrupts me with that same chipper voice. I let out an amused smile but Maren just raises her eyebrows, that typical 'Maren' disinterest evident on her face. "Come on, something good had to happen today." Riley says, noticing her expression.
"Didn't you have your speech thing today for English?" She asks. Riley's grin disappears so quick it looks like it was never there in the first place. That makes Maren laugh.
"I don't wanna talk about it." Riley mutters, falling in step beside me again. I chuckle.
"That bad?" I ask.
"It's always that bad." She she says dejectedly, and it's true. Watching Riley read a speech in front of the class is like watching a toddler struggling to sing the alphabet. She stumbles spectacularly over the entire thing with a red face, and for a few minutes, you forget she's possibly the smartest person in the grade. It doesn't help that English has never been her strong suit. Maren is unsurprisingly great at the speaking part, but often loses marks where the writing is involved, whereas I'm kind of in the average on both parts.
"You know, it sucks that we're not in the same english class anymore. I would have liked to see that." Maren teases.
"I bet you would have." She agrees. "It was probably the worst one yet."
"Oh, I don't know about that. Grade ten was pretty bad."
Riley groans at the reminder. "That entire grade was, ooft. Tragic." She closes her eyes and shakes her head in disgust. That time of her life is one of few things that embarrasses her. "Lets just not talk about grade ten. Like ever."
We reach another door and I ring the doorbell, a new booklet already held in my hand. It seems that I've been silently elected as our sort of spokesperson throughout the selling of these things. Maren and Riley only make comments to answer the scattered question or to make slight conversation.
The woman who owns this house buys three tickets, as most people do because it's a better deal. I notice a couple of carved pumpkins sitting on the edge of the house's wooden porch; remnants from Halloween. Riley would have tripped over one if Maren hadn't pulled her out of the way.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to ask how your Halloweens were." She says, then seems to reconsider her question. "Actually, I know you had your date with Joseph, and I'm assuming that went well. So how was your Halloween, Maren?"
"I wanted to rip the doorbell off the side of the house."
"Truly inspiring." I sigh wistfully. Maren cracks a smile and Riley laughs. "How was your Halloween, R?"
"Oh, it was very eventful." She replies, then in an equally flat tone, she adds, "Only one person came into the store the entire night."
"Nice." Maren says, seeming to forget that their enjoyment of solitude are on drastically different levels.
"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew who it was." Riley chuckles. I arch an eyebrow and turn my head toward her at the same time Maren does. Our expressions must looks pretty harsh because she laughs. "Calm down, it was anyone really evil. Just Stanley."
Even though Maren must object to the the statement of Stanley Worthington being anything less than a psychopath, she decides not to voice this opinion.
"Why would Stanley be in there? Isn't he a millionaire is something?" I ask.
"That guy is strange." Maren grumbles before Riley can get out a probably logical explanation. "Seriously, I think I saw him juggling in math today. You should know. I mean, you do sit next to the guy." She huffs.
I smile a little at the prospect of the bulky guy juggling and Riley's smile stretches noticeably. "Yeah, it was just... a thing." She explains vaguely. My eyebrows shoot up at her faraway tone, something in her voice implying that it was more than just 'a thing'.
"What kind of thing?" I ask.
"Just a thing where he told me he'd learn how to juggle."
"And why did he want to learn that?"
"Well, because-" She cuts herself off with a glance up to me, only realizing now that it's the start of an interrogation. "I mean... I don't know. I guess the guy just wanted to learn how to juggle, sheesh." Her eyes now widened a fraction in her explanation, she adjusts the book bag on her back, even though I'm almost sure it never shifted in our short journey down the street. Maren and I send a knowing look to each other as we make our way down a driveway to yet another door.
"Oh, don't look at each other like that." Riley complains.
"Like what?" Maren challenges. I ring the doorbell of the latest house, the ticket book ready in hand.
"Like you think I like him."
The front door opens and all conversation comes to a halt as we greet the man with a polite smile. I go through my spiel and Riley and Maren go through the part where they jump in as necessary. The guy buys six tickets for ten dollars and then we're back to walking away.
"Do you?" I ask.
Riley sighs and glances at Maren, who doesn't seem impressed with where the conversation is going. She seems guilty as she replies, "Yeah."
I chuckle a little because I could see it coming, but Maren is apparently unable to find humour in the situation right now. She presses her lips together in distaste and probably irritation at the admission. Riley sees the look and turns defensive.
"You know what? I have a right. He's hot and he's flirty and his hair looks good. Seriously, how the hell am I supposed to just ignore that? Oh and did I mention he's hot? Because he is, and nobody can deny that."
Maren lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I can."
"You don't count."
She sighs in disappointment but I only laugh, nodding that I agree with the defence. Seriously, she was right on all accounts. And also judging by the last guy she dated, Stanley is her type.
"I do not approve of this." Maren scolds her. Riley chuckles, amazingly not all that embarrassed about her admission like Maren and I would be. But then, she was always the one who would openly gush over a some popular celebrity, or fan herself dramatically when the image of her favourite TV show actor came onto the screen. I guess she's never really shared the same humility when it came to talking about her personal interests, so this shouldn't come as much of a surprise.
"Shocker, I would've thought you'd be thrilled." She says sarcastically.
"You know how he treats girls though." Maren says, turning serious now. Riley nods because of course we all know the rumours surrounding the great Stanley Worthington; the player that flits from fling to fling so quickly it's tough to keep track of everyone he's dated.
"But didn't he date that Maddy girl last year for a long time?" I remind her, hoping that Maren can see he has some sort of good track record.
"Yeah, and when they broke up she left town." She dismisses.
"I remember that." Riley admits. Everyone remembers that. When they broke up, that girl didn't come to school for weeks before she moved completely. Although, I don't actually recall Stanley coming during that time either. Now, I know that you can't believe all the rumours you hear, but Stanley doing something that caused a girl to skip town definitely isn't the most insane thing to imagine.
We approach another house. This time it's a young woman who answers. She buys three tickets, finishing off our current booklet. I put the ticket stubs in Riley's backpack when we start walking again.
"You should be careful where he's involved." I advise as I zip up the bag once more. Riley only shrugs, not seeming excited about the prospect of starting a relationship.
"I don't need to be careful. It's not going to happen anyway." She says.
"Wait, you're not going to do anything about it?" I ask. She shakes her head, easily dismissing her feelings.
"God no, I'm not stupid. It's a crush, it'll pass."
"You sure?" Maren says sceptically.
"He is kind of your type." I agree, remembering her boyfriend from a couple of years ago.
"That was grade ten." She groans. "Seriously, you guys don't need to worry. You're acting like I'm completely in love with him, like I'm gonna go up to him and say, 'oh Stanley I love you so much, please put a kid in me!'."
I would laugh at the absurdity of statement if it wasn't for Maren's next remark. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Riley gasps and I press a fist to my mouth to muffle a surprised laugh. "That. Was. Grade. Ten!" She insists. She lifts a flannel covered arm to point around me at Maren, who's failing at stifling her amusement. I know Riley isn't actually offended though. We've all had lengthy discussions about the mistake that was her previous boyfriend, and it's all pretty much a big joke now. "And I did not say those words. If anything it was him begging me-"
"Alright, we do not need to have this conversation in the middle of the street." I interrupt with amusement at the very immature- or maybe too mature- argument. I push Riley's arm down to its previous position while a grin starts to fight its way onto her face.
"She brought it up." She says childishly. "And seriously, I have more sense now, you know? I've grown. Like... spiritually or something."
"Well, you obviously haven't grown physically." Maren says flatly, but she has a smirk on her face.
"Ha ha." Riley says sarcastically, though obviously amused. "I bet you're really proud of yourself for making fun of me twice in under a minute." Maren shrugs like 'a little' and Riley shakes her head in disappointment, laughing nonetheless. We reach another door and I ring the doorbell.
When the man who answers the door buys one ticket Maren sighs on the way back to the sidewalk. "Alright, how many of these fuckers do we have left?"
"Well, we started out with thirty-six and we've sold seven." I say.
Maren makes a short sound in her throat. A growl would actually be more accurate. "Great. And we've only been out here an hour."
"Oh come on, you're always so cranky." Riley complains somehow brightly. "Seriously, things can only get better from here."
The next house doesn't buy any tickets.
-Page Break-
"And that's twenty." I open up the bag and put another booklet of ticket stubs into the pouch, already full with all of the others we've managed to sell. Beside me, Maren groans.
"Yeah, that's also how many minutes I have left to live if I don't eat something soon." She mutters dramatically.
Her comment is funny, and I might laugh if I wasn't so tired. Even Riley who laughs at everything only gives a short chuckle at the joke. Seriously, it's now seven-o-clock and we've been on our feet for four hours, plus a full day of school. Riley's subdivision is bigger than I thought. There's a soreness in my legs, and my throat is dry from talking so much. And on top of that, now that it's dark outside it's getting harder to see between the largely spaced streetlights due to the early night. Yes, we're all tired.
I look around the road, my eyes following the glow of streetlights as we continue walking down the main street. There's no sidewalk here so gravel crunches under our shoes with every step. It's about the only thing making sound now since our talking has been limited to random comments and progress reports. We exhausted from talking by the end of hour number two.
As I notice the houses and the trees lining the sides of the road, I realize we're near my house. I'm immediately relieved, not only because food is a couple of minutes away, but also because we won't have to backtrack all the way back to Riley's house.
"We should have supper at my house and I'll drive you guys home after." I suggest. "We're almost there anyway." My words are met with immediate agreements, along with a silent conclusion to skip all of the houses on the way to mine. We've sold enough tickets today.
The night is cool, and I can tell we've all noticed it. Riley's hands have taken permanent residence in the pockets of her jacket and despite the fact Maren would never admit it, I can she's grateful for the extra layer she has on. It's actually close to freezing tonight, which is common for the beginning of November. I've always liked the cold anyway, so I'm glad about the threads of chill in the air, and the leaves turned colour on the trees. It means winter is coming, and winter is my favourite season.
We're all excited when the red siding of my house comes into view a couple minutes later. We make our way up the walkway and I search the bag for my keys, only to remember it's not actually my school bag. Mine is left back at Riley's house, and so is Maren's, which means I don't actually have a way to get into the house.
"Please don't tell me you don't have your keys." Maren says as I zip the bag back up. Her eyebrows are raised despite her eyes actually being partly closed; the picture of tired disappointment.
I don't reply and instead knock on the door as a response, displaying that her guess was correct. Maren sighs, Riley laughs. It doesn't take long for the door to open and Ella stands in the doorway, moving out of the way when she sees us.
"What did I tell you about answering the door when I'm not home?" I chide with a sigh, struggling between being grateful she let us in, and worrying that she hasn't been following my rules.
"Are you kidding me, Mar? Next time should I just leave you outside?" Ella laughs as we shuffle in, pushing off our shoes almost in unison. "It was just you guys." She defends.
I pull off my coat and put it on a hanger while fixing her with a look, which probably comes off as more exhausted than chastising. "Doesn't matter. I could have been a burglar."
She only raises her eyebrows at me with a slight smirk as she leans against the wall by the porch, obviously only finding amusement in my warning. She'll be a rebellious teenager, I'm sure of it.
"Oh, please." Riley scoffs as she struggles to slide her heel out of one of her sneakers. "If anyone was going to be a criminal here, it would be Maren." She says. Maren gives her light shove, to which Riley almost falls to the floor due to being off balance already. She points a finger at Maren after recovering. "See? That was assault."
Ella laughs and I let out a smile at their antics. Maren rolls her eyes and mutters something along the lines of "I'll show you assault", which only makes Riley grin. It seems all of our moods have improved drastically upon our arrival of a warm house. I'm happy Mom is working late tonight, or she might complain about the noise, which is sure to escalate. I turn from my friends while they continue to bicker and start making my way into the kitchen. A shoulder nudges my upper arm and I realize Ella is walking next me.
"Don't worry. I looked out the window before I opened the door." She says, amusement in her tone. I breath out a short chuckle -more like a sigh - and she laughs at my concern.
"Thank you." I say.
"No problem." She waits a beat before continuing. "You know, you can leave me home by myself more often. I'm basically a teenager."
"You're a preteen." I reply.
"Even better! What better time for me to start learning independence?" She looks up at me with an impish grin, but I just look away and shake my head after a tight smile. I wanted independence too some time ago, but then it came all at once.
We don't need to continue the discussion because I stop at the archway of the kitchen, the mess of papers and binders on the table making my steps falter. "What is all that?"
Ella's grin falls into a grimace. "Mostly science, but I have a math worksheet to do."
I raise my eyebrows at her and she smiles again, but it's guilty this time. Amusement laces my sigh. "Do your homework, El." I put my hand on the side of her head and give it a light push in the direction of her seat, now surrounded by papers. She groans and drops down in the seat while I make my way to the fridge, hoping there's some leftovers in there.
"Did someone say math?" Riley's cheerful voice comes into the kitchen, followed by Maren's slight huff of what I can only take to be disgust. The former takes off her hat presses it onto Ella's head she she walks past, giving it a final tug so the thing ends up sideways on my sister's head. I chuckle at how ridiculous it looks.
Ella grins and tries to fix it but Maren reaches over from the other side of the table, snatching it off her head before she can touch it. "Nobody should ever wear such a disease." She says.
As if to prove her point, she shoves the cap back on Riley's head, but pulls the bib down roughly so her face is covered. Riley, who was about to take a seat, stumbles into the chair with an exaggerated cry of anguish. I laugh along with Ella, and Maren looks pleased at what she's done. Riley takes the hat off and lays it on one of Ella's many papers.
Maren and her both take a seat at the table without a moment of hesitation. We could probably put their names on those spots judging by how many times they've sat in those exact seats over the years. All of our houses just serve as a second living space for each other, and it's been that way for as long as I can remember. It's a normal thing between us, but quite a big deal when you think about what it means. How important do you have to be in someone's life to have your own spot on their couch, your own coat hanger in a porch that's not yours, your own seat at another family's kitchen table?
"This your homework?" I hear Riley ask, followed by the crinkling of paper. I scan inside the fridge and am relieved to see the remnants of a fajita filling I made the other day packed into a series of plastic containers, meaning I don't have to cook anything. I'm pulling them out when I hear, "Want me to do it for you?"
I glance over the refrigerator door at Riley, fixing her with the same look I gave Ella when we walked through the door. "I would prefer if Ella did her own homework."
"There's only a few questions left and she's done the rest right." Riley defends, paying no attention to my warning as her eyes scan over the sheet.
"A few questions." I repeat. I arch an eyebrow at the second side of the sheet that Riley hasn't noticed yet. "Flip it over." She does and her eyebrows shoot up.
"Mar, I have science to do and I already know how to do all of the math stuff." Ella interjects, gesturing at the sheet in Riley's hand before clasping her own together, like she's some kind of professional.
"Well, how can I argue with that logic?"
"Ugh." Ella complains at my flat tone, flapping a relenting hand at me, the other now containing a pencil. I smile and turn to start un-lidding the couple of plastic containers I've pulled out of the fridge. A hushed conversation picks up when my back is turned -definitely involving the exchange of homework responsibility- but I don't say anything, allowing them to think I can't hear.
"So, how did you manage to stack up this much sh- stuff to do?" Maren asks Ella after I set the microwave. I hear her near miss with a swear word, but I appreciate her effort to filter her words around Ella.
"Probably procrastination." I say, not surprised to see Riley doing Ella's math sheet when I turn around.
"Ah, shouldn't do that." Maren says to Ella, and I'm glad she's said it and not me. Ella basically thinks Maren is the coolest person on the planet -as a lot of people do anyway- so she might be more inclined to listen to her.
"Like you don't procrastinate." Ella replies skeptically.
Maren chuckles, grabbing a spare pencil and twirling it between her fingers easily and seamlessly without even looking. And that -the ease and confidence in which she does everything- is only one reason why her coolness factor exceeds normal levels. "Do as I say, not as I do."
Riley lets out a short laugh, easily dividing her attention between the conversation and the worksheet. "Ain't that the truth."
"Well, I'm a much better role model than you." Maren scoffs, crossing her arms.
"In your dreams maybe." Riley replies smugly.
Honestly, between the three of us, I'm not sure who the best role model for Ella would be. Riley is obviously a good example for academics, but she procrastinates a lot and so does Maren, whereas I like to get my work done early. And while Maren may struggle a little with academics, her drive for things she cares about is undeniable, not the mention her confidence, which is a trait Riley and I lack somewhat. I don't know who would be the best example, but between the three of us, I think we've got all areas covered.
"May I remind you of grade ten?"
Riley's eyes flash up from the paper and the smug look transfers to Maren's face. "You may not." She says quietly.
Ella, who wasn't paying much attention to her science anyway, now puts down her pencil all together, leaning forward with peeked interest. "What happened in grade ten?" She asks eagerly.
Maren feigns surprise. "Oh, have we neglected to tell you about Riley's rebellious phase?" If she was sitting normally in her seat her back would be facing me, but she has the seat turned sideways so I have no trouble seeing the smirk she's giving Ella.
"You had a rebellious phase?" Ella asks Riley skeptically, as though our friend's enhanced focus on the worksheet wasn't evidence enough. "Did you do drugs or something?"
Riley glances up at me, like she's asking my permission to tell her. I shrug and she sighs, apparently angry she's allowed. "I only smoked cigarettes." She says. I raise an eyebrow at her. She catches the look, adding, "And pot."
"Oh, well that's not too bad." Ella replies indifferently. Then, to my horror, "I'd actually like to try pot one day."
My mouth drops open and Maren leans the side of her head into her fist to hide her grin from Ella, who sits across from her. Instead she looks at me and starts chuckling silently at my expression.
"Thanks, that's what every older sister wants to hear." I mutter. The microwave beeps and I turn around to get the container out.
"I meant when I'm old enough." Ella adds hastily.
I turn back with raised eyebrows and it must look pretty harsh because Riley covers up a grin with her cap, laughing into it.
"That's not comforting." I say, putting the other container in the microwave and setting the time. "You're twelve, El. You shouldn't be thinking about weed."
"She's right." Riley cuts in, taking the cap down and tapping Ella's head with it. I can already tell she's going to lighten things up. "You know, some people call it the devil's lettuce." She waggles her eyebrows and Ella bursts out laughing while Maren rolls her eyes, but a laugh is quick to come from her too.
"The devil's lettuce? Really." She says.
"Oh you don't like that on? Would you rather the magic cabbage?"
I laugh too this time, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter. "That is equally terrible."
Maren nods. "I bet the person who made it up was high."
"Probably." Riley chuckles, already gone back to doing Ella's homework with speed none of us could accomplish with the subject.
Maren rests her chin on her fist, looking at Riley a little seriously now. "How is it actually? Like is it fun?"
Riley looks up, confused by her interest but less embarrassed about being asked a serious question. "Trust me, the only noteworthy thing I did while I was high was eat my body weight in cheezies." She shakes her head, staring at a random spot on the table. "I don't even like cheezies."
Ella lets out a giggle and Maren grins. I have a feeling she asked the question for the purpose of satisfying Ella's curiosity, and I'm glad Riley decided to recall a bad memory instead of a good one.
Hearing our amusement, Riley looks up from her random stare into the distance. "I threw up my guts after." She lifts the cap again to cover her eyes, as if not allowing herself to relive the memory. I join Ella in laughing as she shakes her head under the hat. When she pulls it down, her expression looks like she's witnessed something traumatic. "You think I'm joking but I'm serious. I'm pretty sure I flushed at least one unimportant organ down the toilet that night. It was..." She takes a sharp breath in. "Oh my God, it was horrific."
With the way her unfocused eyes stare into the distance, you would swear images of war were flashing through her head. Her expression paired with the story is enough to have us all laughing. Even Maren, who doesn't wholeheartedly laugh at much or too often, leans her head back in stitches. I have to lean back on the counter and press a hand to my mouth to muffle the sound, not that it helps much. Riley closes her eyes, leaning her elbows on the table and pressing her forehead into the heels of her hands, but she's finally grinning too.
"You're an idiot." Maren chortles, nudging Riley's leg with her foot.
"You have no idea how aware I am of that fact."
I hear a beeping noise and it takes me a moment to realize the microwave is finished. I turn and take out the food, placing it on the counter with the other one. "Well, supper is ready." I chuckle.
"I'm not sure I want to eat now after that story." Maren says, recovered now but still grinning. I come over and lay the containers down on the table. She arches an eyebrow. "Oh, and it looks like throw up too."
"It's fajita mix." I roll my eyes. It's only orange because of what I out into it to make it a bit spicy.
"It looks good, Mar." Riley stands up to get some drinks while I pass around some plates and fajita shells.
We decide to just eat on top of all of the papers, and Ella doesn't object, undoubtedly in no rush to get a good start in at her homework. Riley finishes Ella's math sheet while she's eating and hands it over proudly. We talk about random things; how Ella is doing in school, ticket selling, test grades.
Ella is every bit as involved in the conversation as the rest of us, as she always is when we hang out together. I think she likes having people who are older than her not treating her like a kid. I don't usually treat her like a kid either, but I know it happens sometimes. It's just instinct to look out for her. Sometimes I fear I do too much for her and think that maybe I should let her fix her own supper, or not harp on her about her schoolwork. Maybe I should give her some of the independence she wants. But as I look over her multitude of unfinished worksheets and her messy doodles on the edges of paper, I can't help but be happy that she's not as grown up as she would like to think.
By the time we're done eating, it's eight-o-clock. Even though Mom should be home anytime now, Maren and Riley both know they can stay longer. They don't though. Maren jokes about it being a school night, but Riley actually does needs to go home because she didn't take her medication with her, or in her words, "The happy pills have already been waiting an hour". She's been on anti-depressants since the beginning of ninth grade so she's in a pretty good habit of taking them on time now, which is usually seven in the morning and the evening, twelve hours apart. But since she's been taking them for so long, she's also not too worried if she's an hour late.
"How nice we are." Maren says when we're in the porch, pulling on our shoes. "Coming into your home, stealing your food and leaving again." She smirks but I know it's her way of saying thanks.
"Your welcome." I say. Riley is the only one out of all of us that bothers with putting on a jacket, but I think it's because she has to take Maren's too.
"So, Ella. What have you learned today?" Maren calls into the kitchen where my sister is still doing her homework, or rather, trying to subtly avoid it.
"Don't smoke pot?" Ella asks.
"Don't eat cheezies." Maren corrects. Ella laughs and Maren smirks at Riley, who grimaces before admitting that she hasn't been able to eat one since.
They say goodbye to Ella and we all go out to the car. Maren sits in the back since she's the first stop and Riley in the front. As I pull out of the driveway, Maren seems to have a realization.
"We've only sold twenty ticket booklets and it took four hours." She says, seemingly out of nowhere. "We need to sell a hundred booklets."
"That's twenty hours of selling tickets." Riley adds.
Maren sighs and I can picture the annoyed look on her face. "Twenty hours of walking and one hundred booklets of tickets to sell. All for a hockey game."
Now that she points it out, I can see that it's pretty stupid. It must have been what she's been thinking the entire time.
"Those better be some good fucking seats."
Hey guys, I know there wasn't much couple action going on there but there will be in the next chapter, I promise. Anyway, that's it from me, hope you enjoyed and tell me what you think in the reviews :)