The 'I Remember' Series

Story 1 – I Remember

Chapter 2 – I Remember Rating: PG-13

Stephanie was in her personal room reading on fashion. It was like food to the brain. Fashions were like cuisine, 'A' class. There was a rap at the door. "Who is it?"

"Chris."

"Come in." She removed her glasses. Contacts were just too troublesome that day. "You don't have to look at me like that, I've worn spectacles all my behind-the-scenes-non-going-out-life. And don't make any comments."

"Okay, okay, I won't." Jericho grabbed a chair and seated himself in front of her. "So, with that guy. The idiot? How did you get things happening with him?"

"It really wasn't that fast. It took off with meeting me at my locker, after school."

~*~

At that time, the thought of us walking to my home together was undoubtedly the freakiest, most weird thing to do. But now, when I think of it, it was a really sweet thing.

"You walk home?"

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

"Shouldn't you have a lime or something? You're filthy rich."

"Whatever."

"You could raise my allowance."

"You wish."

"I'm wishing." He paced beside her. "Where's your house?"

"We're not there yet."

"I know that."

"So?"

"Okay, fine. I'll just follow you back."

"Why would you want to? I mean, are you planning to be my stalker or something? I know I'm really nice and all, but I really think you shouldn't, 'cause it's really creepy."

"Who'd want to stalk someone like you? I'm just a little lost puppy, waiting for you to take me to your home."

"Puppy? Dinosaur, more like it," she mumbled.

"Very funny. How 'bout dropping by that place there?" He had pointed to a small eatery.

"Sure."

As they stepped into the air-conditioned outlet, the place had wafts of grilled fish, chicken and beef, of fries and oil. Stephanie ordered blondie to take her bags and wait for her at a table, asking what he wanted.

"Number five," he said, in a game show host tone. She walked off with the orders in her head. After speaking to the cashier, she waited. There was the constant crackle and sizzles of oil, and it scared her a bit about her food contents. *Once in a while. You can work the fat off. * She hurriedly lifted the tray and brought it to the table, carefully making sure that the drinks didn't spill. She bent to set it on the table.

"What're you so happy about?"

"You see, I had a little scene from here down that top of yours." Her jaw dropped, flushing a little.

"And you went on? Oh, you sick little pervert!" Oh eew!" He shrugged and helped himself to his lunch. Stephanie sat quiet. *Maybe I should do that more often. It's so much more peaceful with out her running her mouth like that, * he thought. Steph munched on a couple of fries and then wolfed down her burger. "Go easy there. I don't want you choking."

"Whatever," she managed with her mouth full. He took a large bite out of his own meal, glancing at her, and realised that hers was gone. She kept fidgeting, putting on a little frown and biting her bottom lip.

"I didn't mean to! It was and accident okay?" He added with a mumble, "If you didn't have to have that much flesh to cover it'd be so much easier…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing." She pouted at him. "Keep doing that and your face will stay that way."

"I'm not a kid---"

"You're acting like one."

As soon as they finished their meals, she took her bag and her files in hand with the boy following. She walked and talked to him.

"You're gonna help me with history right?"

"Depends on the hospitality given." She sighed and gave her distinct eye roll. "You could hear those eye rolls. It messes with the telepathic stream around."

"Telepathic stream? When was there ever such a thing? If there were my streams and messages can't get through to that block on your neck."

"With so much air in your head, it's no wonder I experience the same ordeal." She sighed again. She took a turn as he followed. "I hate Math."

"And ugh," she continued for him, "biology. I missed the dissecting. Now it's all so… Boring." She paced slower and turned at a sign. "Shane's just slacking at home." At the traffic light, the cars strolled past, some white smoke fuming from the muffler of one. Using one hand, she fanned away some of the smoke from her face. "Dad's too busy with the company and mom's always away with business. Shane's my only companion. I'd rather call him my worst enemy. Either way, he's annoying. So just mind him." The green words flashed dully, a signal for the pedestrians to cross. Steph brisk-walked across, expecting her 'mate' to catch up. "If you do see Shane don't bother. Just say hi or something. Nothing else." He remained silent up to her front door.

"Don't you have keys?" She knocked the door with a closed fist. "No, I don't. Mom doesn't trust me."

"So mama's boy has 'em." He reached into his pockets and his hand appears a small hairpin, or at least something that looked like one.

"OPEN THE DOOR SHANE!"

Kneeling down, he shoved the pin into the keyhole and twisted a bit until there was a loud click. "I'm ramming the door down if you don't open it!" She took a deep breath as the boy prepared to open the door. Then she charged as he pushed it open slowly. With a terrifying scream, she fell over a thick white L-shaped sofa, and rolled over backwards to hit the coffee table. "DAMN YOU!" she raised her fist at him. He chuckled evilly, closing the door behind him and throwing the bad on her couch. Jumping over the couch and landing in a perfect cross-legged position, he held a hand out and she took it willingly, pulling with all her might to get herself up. *Wow, strong arms,* she thought, but it was washed away by the other thought of homework.

"Shall we begin?" he rubbed his hands together.

"Ah, enthusiasm in history. Harrim should nominate you to be his pet. A loser role for the complete loser." She took out a stack of papers, both blank and filled. "Can we do something not related to the guy?"

"Then we don't have homework." Stephanie frowned. "It's your choice. Either history… or just history. You won't have anymore choices. And you have to show me around."

"Why do you need a tour?"

"Do you want homework help or not?" He paused. "Actually, come to think of it, let's go to your room."

"My--- what?"

"Room. Place where you spend your time sleeping and dreaming about the next day."

"I know that. But my room?"

"Well, we can get more privacy there."

"Or you'd get into my pants."

He grinned. "If you want me to." He listened for her eye roll. "There it is!"

"There is what?"

"Your eye rolling. You have to stop that." She was about to do it again until he waved a finger at her. "Keep doing that and your kids will follow. You don't want to find eyeballs on the carpet." She huffed and carried her unzipped bag with one shoulder and her thick stack of work in one hand up the stairs. Blondie followed after her like how he followed her home.

The carpeted steps led to a full carpeted floor on parquet, and there was this big hallway. He shuffled his feet on the maroon carpet, then stomped a little. "What are you doing?"

"How do you cover this whole place with carpet?"

"Feels nice huh? It was dad's idea, so when the floor's cold, the carpet will keep our feet warm. Cold feet can cause rheumatism."

The boy looked around. The place smelled like fresh pines. The doors were made of a polished teak, a light tan colour that brightened the plain white walls. Along the left side of the corridor was a row of four doors, two of which had signs on them. On the right was a large room with sliding glass doors. Inside were two cushioned chairs, a desk with a small black table lamp, and a decent grey office chair. Three thick, heavy looking drawers posed as part of the desk on the lower right hand side of it. A metal cabinet lay in the far right hand corner of the room. Steph dragged him further on. To the left of that room, was a small open balcony space with a white wooden railing. He took a peep over, and saw the whole view of the ground floor. The parquet filled the place from the bottom of the stairs (which couldn't be seen from his view) all the way to the doorstep. Large houses always did fascinate him a bit. He hadn't seen the whole house after all. Ahead was the door that was left open. *Probably the parents' room…* She pulled his arm. "You want to go into my room or not?"

"Yeah, yeah I do. But wow. This is what I call, a HOUSE."

"Whatever." She yanked his arm, pulling him into her room with all of her might. He yelped in surprise, falling forward, but he managed to keep his balance and stay on his feet. "Intriguing."

"Are you kidding me? This is my room! My room is sacred." He wandered around. Her room was… Big. Like the size of his parent's bedroom. The walls were panted a baby pink, adorned with posters ---autographed posters--- that lay in a thin frame. Her bed ---probably a queen size--- had curtains on the four sides, very much like royalty. The top of the curtain was suspended by a chandelier-like object that nailed itself dead centre in the ceiling. The bed sheets were a milky yellow and the comforter, a charming lavender that seemed like it shone against the small rays of sunlight that seeped through the closed window.

He sat himself on the bed and he landed with a bounce. "Holy crap. Is this velvet?"

"Is there anything wrong with that?" Nothing of his imagination added up to this house. To the tight of the bed, there was a drawer set of four, the same yellow as the bed sheets. There were childish or rather a hippie design of flowers on it. The same kind of desk that he saw in the glass door room was opposite the length of the bed, taking up space of a whole corner of the room. "Like it here?"

"If the colours weren't so girlish in here, hell, I'd take the room." She sat on the chair that was in front of the desk and sorted her pages of homework. "Um… Starting without me?" She simply kept silent while she searched for her pencil case. He sighed toward her reaction and reached into his own bad for his stuff. "Chapter two, World War two, and two hours slaving on these questions. I haven't read a single word." She put down her bag.

"Not one?" He shook his head. "Ups for me, 'cause at least I know that I won't be the last in this class after all for my mid-year." He ignored her remark, then took out his textbook, flipping to chapter two. "No hard feelings here, but I don't think you have brain enough to store all that facts."

"Well then, I'm sorry that your brain matter has fallen to your boobs."

"Was that an insult?" She frowned and whipped out her pencil case, unzipping it quickly and grabbing a pen. "You realise that I can stab you with this."

"That's if I'm some immobile freak. But I'm not. I'm a warm fuzzy teddy bear. Give me a hug and I'll be happy. Hug, hug?" He held out his arms in a welcoming manner. She pouted and giggled in her own sweet way, throwing the pen aside. "You wish," she told him, and joined him on the bed.

"I'm wishing, I'm wishing a lot," he laughed. She pushed him hard at the shoulder, casing him to fall off the bed. "Oops, sorry," she laughed, "I guess that's how I treat teddy bears."

"Well do you kiss them?" She glared at him.

"No! I don't kiss people like you."

"Betcha that you've never kissed anyone in your life. How 'bout sharing that first one with me?"

"Go away!" she changed the subject. "Remember that we've got history." She took the text from his lap. "Now, first question. How did---"

"I don't know. I told you, I don't read the text."

"Then how do you get through the tests and examinations?"

"I just pull through with confidence in my common sense and general knowledge."

"I didn't know you had those kid of qualities."

"What?" He smiled. "Doesn't mean I can't be smart enough to be confi---"

"I meant, I didn't know that you had common sense and that bit a general knowledge." Steph took a deep breath and read out Harrim's history question. "Who had started the war in the year nineteen thirty-nine, what can you account for the leader's actions, the effect it had on the society, the consequences and the reactions of the foreigner, and explain the proliferation of rebellion."

"Huh?" She sniggered at his reaction.

"Well, I guess I'm on my own."

"No no no no no. Tell me in simpler English. Come on, I know how to do it."

We talked 'til it was late and funny though, this guy… he wasn't as bad as I made out to be.

"What time is it?" Steph asked.

"7.20."

"I think you'd better go. We're done anyway with history. So, I'll see you tomorrow?" He thought for a while.

"I thought of skipping." He frowned. "Isn't there some… check tomorrow? Like they kinda search your bags for some illegal stuff that you might be carrying or something?"

"You just want to skip spot checks? That is SO lame. I wouldn't miss classes unless I got down with a disease."

"What are you? A smartass? Camel?"

"Camel?" she repeated after him. "I study for my future," she said. "Be someone to help dad."

"I wanna be a sportsman. Well, I'm kinda trying to train for different things. Hockey maybe, just like my dad. Difficult to say." He stoned for a moment then picked up his stuff and shoved them into his bag. Standing up, he opened the room door, and Steph followed him. Going down the carpeted step, across the classic polished look of parquet, past the big couch and then finally to the door. "Guess this is it."

"Yeah, well kinda." She had this decent, cute girlish smile on, which she never really had as she prepared to close the door. "Well, bye."

Her fingers accidentally slipped and the door slammed. Outside, there was an extremely loud shout, long and continuos. Immediately she opened the door –and the agony on his face—she saw his thumb swelling and bleeding, and noticed the colour of dark red staining the step.

"SHIT! Go DO SOMETHING TO STOP THISFUCKINGTHUMBFROMFALLINGOFF!" he yelled.

"Oh, God." She hesitated, then ran off somewhere back into the house. His vision was marred with patterns and colours and he couldn't keep balance very well. Holding on to his nail in place was the tough part. "STEPHANIE!" he shouted with rage.

"H-hurry up and come in," she stammered, pulling his hand towards her. "I'm SO sorry." As a natural reaction, he cursed and swore and hollered and yelled. He looked like he was about to pass out; who wouldn't, after his thumb was almost snapped into half? Steph apologised repeatedly, fumbling with the bandages and surgical tape. The white cloth went round and the tape was plastered across the cut end of the bandage. She apologised again. "Go see a doctor."

He wanted to kill her and everything else, but he couldn't blame her for being so careless with the door. He made a mental note: *Never buy a home with heavy doors. * He bit his lip to control his anger, took a deep breath, then sighed. No use screaming at her anyway.

"I'm really, REALLY, EXTREMELY sorry."

"…It's no problem."

She was surprised at his reaction to her fault. "…Well, make sure you go see a doctor, promise?"

I was freaked, what else could I say? I brought him to the doctors and they diagnosed his injury as a fractured thumb. He lost a nail and he had to live with a giant thumb for two and a half months.

~*~

Jericho was very silent for those few moments.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"…No, it's nothing." He resumed with staring at his own thumb. "Must've really hurt like hell."

"Yeah, it did, for him." She glanced at the clock on her desk.

"I've got a meeting to attend in an hour," she smiled. "At least now that I'm behind the screen, I have less stuff to do. Just have to focus on paperwork now." She patted his knee and stood up. "I'm off." But Jericho thought about that accident even after she had left the room.

*It must've really hurt huh? I should know. * He looked dazed. *Since it was my thumb after all. *

***

*Pearlyn pats the heads of the good little girls and boys who knew what was coming.* :P