Disclaimer: FOP is not mine.
Chapter Four: Extrapolation
I hate her. With every single cell in my body, I hate her. In fact, if I could, I'd make sure she died a nasty, cruel death while I watched and laughed.
Okay, so maybe I'm not that nasty, no matter how hard I try to pretend I am. Even so, I hate her. She's made my life miserable for six years (as everyone seems to forget she babysat me when I was nine) and now, I have the chance to wreak my vengeance. So why should I help her out? Why should I get down on my knees and scrub with her? She deserves this.
If only I could be so sure about that. The thing is, I really don't know as much about her as I think I do. Sure, I know she can be cruel and nasty when she wants to be, but I've never seen her with the gloves off, alone. Her confession makes me wonder if there's more to her than meets the eye.
As I sit in my room and play video games while she scrubs, my mind keeps returning to one thing. Before long, I find myself helping her out. Many people know I can't keep up anger or vengeance for that long and here I am, not speaking to her but scrubbing all the same.
Her hair's down and it crowns her face in a way I hadn't thought possible. With her hair down, she looks more, well, human than she did before. That doesn't mean I don't think she's a monster anymore, but there might something lurking beneath that cold exterior.
With a smirk, I glance at her and I think of the time we were trapped in an avalanche. She thought we were trapped and then did the oddest hug I'd ever experienced in my short life (and, fortunately for me, the only hug of that nature that I've ever experienced in my short life) and, then, for the rest of the time, until we were rescued, she was actually nice. I thought maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as bad a person as she pretended to be, and then I learned better.
Now, I wonder if, when she told me she didn't mean to be nasty in the cave, if there was another part to it. She was being cruel to me because she liked me but knew it was wrong…so she acted out. It makes about as much sense as anything else.
Unfortunately, thinking about this causes me to realize I should be in there, helping her. After all, she never intended for things to go this far, right? I'm sure she didn't walk in here the first day and decide she was going to get a crush on me. Nobody goes that.
So I could blame destiny and say that her treatment of me was a result of her rejecting it. That means I'd have to help her, though…
Shaking my head and wondering why I've started thinking harder than I normally do in school, I place my video game on pause and walk into the bathroom. There, Vicky scrubs the floor absent mindedly, as though she's deep in thought. Well, I'm not going to bug her. I'm not in the mood to stir up my own thoughts.
I watch her from the doorway and note her long, red hair trailing down her shoulders. Swallowing hard, I try to focus on the fact she's using my toothbrush instead of a sponge. Hmph, leave it to her to try to sock it to me again.
However, she doesn't really look that bad with her hair down. She looks almost human. Yeah, that's nasty, but c'mon, give me a break. Does she seem like the type of person to have a shred of humanity? I rest my case.
You know, she vaguely resembles an attractive girl with her hair down. I smirk, thinking about it. If she wore her hair down and didn't act like the vindictive, cruel person I know her to be, maybe she'd get some attention.
Ugh, why am I thinking these thoughts? Jeez…wish I could just return to thinking she's a creepy, nasty babysitter that hates my guts. Why did she have to fall in love with me? It screws everything up!
Well, at least I know if I'm in the same room, she won't torture me. Shutting the door behind me, I make up my mind. If my conscience insists on annoying me like this, then I'll help her.
Then again, there are other things that she could try other than torture. I just hope she won't because first, that would be disgusting and, second, extremely uncomfortable. I think I'd shove her away in repulsion, but, since everything today is topsy-turvy, I can honestly say I have no idea what I'd do.
Grabbing a sponge and bucket, I start on the other side of the room. Wow, the floor's dirtier than I thought. It reminds me how much I hate this job.
Once a week, she'd assign this to me. Honestly, I think I've cleaned more than a housewife. Aren't there detergents or something for this, instead of soap and water?
Why am I helping her, anyway? Why'd I have to get a guilt trip now of all times? I should be playing video games and laughing at her when she comes back, filthy.
I should be mocking her derisively, in the very least, standing in the doorway and cracking the whip like she did. I should be heartless like her…only, I know now she isn't heartless. She's just a little mixed up.
The good thing is, if I focus on this, I don't have to look at her. If I don't have to look at her, I don't have to think about why we're here.
Scrub, scrub, scrub. Let the scrub replace my thoughts, replace everything. There's only me and the sponge, nothing else. There's certainly no babysitter in the room who has a thing for me and could be pleasant on the eyes.
Ew! And again, ew! Why do I have to attract the weirdos? Why can't I get the only girl I want?
I mean, I've tried everything I could think of and she still doesn't like me. What do I have to do, cut off my ear and send it to her in the mail? I'd do that…if it didn't mean I'd be bleeding from the head and in danger of dying from bloody loss. Plus, you know, having only one ear to hear would really suck.
Not even wishing her to be my girlfriend works…for that long. Magic can't create a love that isn't there to begin with. Why? Why can't she like me back?
Glancing up for a split second, my eyes meet Vicky's. Now that's a girl I'd never want to like me back, if I were under the influence (be it magic or something else) or not. Why me? Why can't it be Trixie?
Pain flickers in her eyes as well and I drop my head. Why am I complaining, anyway? At least Trixie's my age.
Any way you look at it, it must suck to be Vicky. She's got all this money and all this power, but she's still not happy. The only person she likes, really likes, and he's six years her junior. Yeah, if that person wasn't me, I'd pity her.
I stretch out too far and my sponge runs into my toothbrush. Other than that, I give her no indication I'm paying the slightest bit of attention to her. If she wants me so badly, then it must bug her that I'm ignoring her.
Let her be bugged. Let everything bother her, because I don't care, right? But if that's true, then why am I helping her? Why am I here in the first place?
And why can't I stop thinking about the fact she said she loves me? Tootie's saying it never made me start obsessing over those three words, so why should her sister saying it do that? It must be because it's so unexpected and I don't know how to deal with it. Yeah, that's it.
I'm glad that neither of us are speaking. Leave her to her own thoughts and me to mine. Maybe she ought to think of a way to stop liking me. That'd make us both happy.
A smirk rises to my face and I turn in her direction to tell her this. However, the jibe dies on my lips as I find myself studying her yet again. She's by the tub, scrubbing the daylights out of it as though hoping to see something else there. At least, I think that's what she's doing, since I'm not going to go ask her.
Right now, though, I kind of wonder what she is thinking. Did everything she put me through have some sort of hidden meaning? What was she thinking while she was making me mow the lawn or wash the car? Was she (gross!) checking me out?
Who on earth falls in love with a kid that young? How sick is that? And yet, I almost pity her. This could be at the root of her cruelty. Maybe…maybe I'm the reason she treats the world like crap.
"Vicky?" I call, beginning to wonder if my theories were true. Hopefully, she'll tell me that I'm completely delusional and she's always been this nasty. I have nothing to do with her acting like this, right?
Coming from the other side of the room but, it sounds as though it might as well come from the other side of the world, Vicky replies, "Yeah?"
Weird, she's not yelling at me. Her tone's actually soft. Could she be nice again? Could she actually turn out to be not that bad?
Why am I giving her all these chances? Why do I keep thinking that there's some sort of redemption for her? Why do I think she's a human being instead of a monster?
Before I know it, I bark out, "Never mind!"
Shutting her up should shut up my stupid brain. It's worth a shot, isn't it? If I can keep returning to the idea that Vicky might be forever on guard, I can shut myself up. It's like meditation, only work related. Inner peace and all that junk.
Only, I can't concentrate on work, either. Damn it; get out of my head, Vicky! Why do I have to keep thinking about you?
Again, completely without planning, I fling the sponge at her and it strikes her face. Suds and grime rub off on her cheeks before it falls to the cold floor. Good, if she's ugly again, then I can stop thinking she looks nice with her hair down like that.
Ugh, there I go again. Better get out of here before I really start to lose it- and by 'it', I mean my sanity.
Swallowing hard, I slam the door hard and lock it. Fine, leave her, the sponge, and my thoughts in there. See if I care.
No sounds emanate and I return to my video game, satisfied. Out of sight, out of mind. At least, I hope so.
"Stupid Vicky."
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