School Hard

By: Erin (Kate)

Collins

I just stare at my Angel for a second. It's crazy. I'm willing to tell a story about high school, but not an embarrassing story. "I don't have anything to tell, baby," I finally manage, gently petting her hair.

 "Of course you do. Everyone has embarrassing stories from high school. Don't lie to me, Thomas." Oooh, Angel's moving into her angry-persuasive mood. Almost reminds me of Maureen in a way. Except that she's not near as annoying, and I'll be damned if I'm going to give in.

"I don't. I was just the tall, quiet black guy. Even when I came out, nothing much happened. I guess people just accepted it." I shrug.

"You went to an arts school," Angel points out softly, and I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that the conversation is still very much focused around Roger—no one's paying attention to us. "Half the population was gay and the other half was artists. Your football team lost every game; they scored one touchdown the entire season. The cheerleaders were all actresses or dancers and—

"Well, I still don't have any stories," I say firmly, cutting her off. Angel's just going to have to find someone else to do her dirty work. I'm sure Maureen has a wealth of stories, Angel can tap into that.

"Of course you do!" Angel insists, and she begins to put on her "whiny" voice. Ohhhh, I know exactly where this is going. And any insisting I have left in me will do nothing. I have to distract her.

"Is this going to end up like when you convinced me to get my nipple pierced?" I ask, reaching around and gently tickling her sides. "Huh?"

"Shhhh…" Angel whispers, giggling. Excellent, I've succeeded in my attempts. "Your nipple ring is supposed to stay our private business, Thomas."

"Just like your tongue ring, Angel?" I ask, pinching her side, which immediately causes her to stick her tongue out and me to burst out laughing.

"It's a little harder to hide a tongue ring than a nipple ring."

Awww, now she's pouting. My poor baby. I begin softly kissing her neck, waiting for her to smile. "Sorry, babe. I didn't mean it like that… just meant that I know you told Mimi about the whole adventure."

"What I tell my best friend isn't any of your business," Angel announces firmly, craning her neck away from my mouth. "And you can't seriously think you can get out of what I asked you to do so easily. Come on, just tell me something that happened or that you did that is unlike you now."

I sigh, sitting back and rubbing my face, Angel still perched on my lap. There isn't really any getting out of this, is there? I meant it, though, when I said I didn't really have any embarrassing stories. I don't embarrass easy. "I was student council president my senior year," I offer casually.

"Oooh!" Angel squeals, hopping up and nearly kicking me… someplace where's it's un-good to be kicked. "That's perfect! Hey, hey! Everyone!" I sigh and rub my face again, watching as everyone turns their attention to her. Leave it to Angel to make this out into a bigger deal that it is. "In high school, Collins was the student council president!"

And more squeals echo from Maureen. And Mimi. Hmmm… and Mark? Never know Mark to squeal before. "Mr. Radical-Anarchist!?!" A female voice giggles out. I'm not sure who is was, but I think it's Maureen. She and Mimi are clinging to each other, but Mimi looks like she's laughing too hard to say anything.

I just shrug. Takes more than Maureen laughing to bother me… Maureen laughs at everyone. Maureen has laughed at people for wearing orange when she decided it was the "uncool colour of the month". Maureen laughs when people are walking down the street, talking on a cell phone, and can't walk in a straight line.

Come to think of it, that is funny.

But still. Maureen plus laughing equals no problem for Mr. Thomas Collins. "I was still an anarchist. I just changed the system from the *inside*."

"Sure ya did. Did you plan school dances too?" Yep, definitely Maureen.

I shrug again, pulling my Angel back into my lap. "They're allowed to dance. School dances are fun and exciting. I know you went to yours."

Ha! Shut her up good!

Roger's shaking his head, still chuckling some. "I can't picture you planning school dances, man."

"I didn't normally. I tackled the real issues- protesting lack of student activities and clubs and such. I left it to my underlings to plan the dances—just agreed to the final decisions." I smile as Maureen begins to sputter.

"Underlings?"

"Class representatives. Apparently they are good for something… even if they are the most annoying people on the planet. All the ditzy little popular girls and idiot jocks." Ha ha! I have overcome the embarrassment of telling embarrassing high school stories! I am the King of the Bohemians!

I glance over at Maureen and start to laugh when I realize she's making faces at me. "Come on, Collins! Get embarrassed! Turn red, hide your face, something! That's what everyone else did when they had their stories told."

I just keep laughing, blowing a kiss over at Maureen. "Sorry, Mo. Don't feel like being embarrassed, cuz I'm not ashamed of my story. School president is a good think to be."

She sputters more and retreats to her spot, on the other chair with Joanne. "Well, you're no fun to make fun of." I keep my eye on her and start to grin when I notice her hand reaching over to the coffee table.

Roger and Mark are still involved in some discussion with each other and don't notice until Maureen's standing directly on top of them. Literally, she's standing on the couch with one foot on either side of them.

Damn, that looks painful.

She's also holding two photographs. "Look what I have?" She sings out, as Mark and Roger simultaneously groan.

Guess Angel's plan didn't work after all.

Oh well, I'm none the worse from it. My story didn't embarrass me in any way, shape, or form… and Angel won't be holding back when we get home.

Veiled threats are easy to see through.

And the piercings were a good idea, Angel-babe.

-----

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay, damn that writer's block. Although, it was quite easy to write this chapter, once I got the ball rolling. Good old non-flusterable Collins. (I know, I'm on a roll with the writing now, but once it gets further into school, I'll probably slow to… something significantly slower than a roll. Hehe.)

Disclaimer: Not mine. Crazy made up stories just may be, though. :)

-----