A/n: so sorry for lack of updates! I have been on a lets download anime and watch itbinge. Forgive me. Song is Maria, which is a Blondie song. One of my favorite Blondie songs. xD

Chapter Six

Ohhh, don't you want to take her?
Want to make her all your own?

His face when I grabbed Carl's crotch was priceless. I was right when I supposed that Calvin still saw me as a little girl. Well, he won't now.

But I haven't even though about Carl, have I? All that had been running through my mind was Calvin, Calvin, Calvin. Oh god, Carl will think I wanted him that badly.

Well, I did kind of want to get to the point.

Hopefully he hasn't assumed I'd want him for his intellect. I'm a sixteen year old girl. I'm not out looking for a big brain. That day in the woods, I'd hinted that I thought the night was much more romantic, that I loved with my ex-boyfriends to stare at the stars while lying in their arms. He'll come tonight to my window, I know it. Why not take advantage of his misunderstanding? I go to bed wearing a tight tank top and a pair of cute leather pants I keep for occasions like these. As I slide into bed, I wonder if these pants are being wasted.

Not that Carl isn't sweet, in his own sheep-like way, but I know from past experience, I can do much better. I've got out with guys with far better hairstyles, for one.

I'm on the edge of sleep when I hear the light tapping on the window. I yawn, and I rub my eyes with my hands. I remember a second too late I'd heavily outlined by eyes with eyeliner before bed. Fuck.

I motion for Carl to wait, and I wonder if I can get to a bathroom to fix my makeup. Probably not. I won't be taken for a girl with the need to take a piss with this outfit on. I decide that it's too dark for Carl to notice anyway.

I fluff up my pillows and I crawl out of the window. Immediately I regret my decision to not fix my eyes. Carl is staring at me strangely, but I pretend not to notice. "Hello, darling," I purr, as I kiss him passionately.

Well, Carl is an adequate boyfriend I suppose. But not only can I do better, but I want more from a person than I ever expect him to give me. And when we slept together that night, under the cover of the stars, I had never felt more alone in my life.

I suddenly felt all the weight of everything I'd ever done on my shoulders. All these years I'd tried my best to be Miss Bad-Ass of the Year, and at that moment I felt as if I had wasted every single second of those years.

Before everything had started I had dreamed of changing the world. Forget that, I had expected to change the world. I wanted my life to be filled with things that were meaningful. Yet, here I was, fucking without feeling, pointlessness in every aspect of my life. I felt wasted, used by life, or my lack of it.

Afterwards, we dressed quickly, without speaking. I didn't want to talk to Carl. There were no answers he could give me, no reassurance, nothing. Also, the lack of conversation would make what I knew I had to do much, much easier.

"Carl," I whisper as he turns to leave back to his own dorm. I cannot stop myself. I have to have some sort of closure to this night, as meaningless in the long run as I know it is. But there's nothing for me to say, and the two of us know it. Carl waits for me to speak anyway. "Good night."

"'Night." Then he's off, and I'm alone. I start through the small forest towards St. Brigid's.

"What's the point, Calvin?" I ask, my back flat against a tree trunk, painting my nails a light shade of grey.

"Of what?" His hands are busy sketching something in that notebook of his. He refuses to let me catch even the smaller glimpse of it, a strange action for this new him. The old Calvin would have only hidden something because he was trying to show it to me.

"Of life, Calvin." I don't look up at him, because I'm afraid of his expression. Ever since that bus trip, I know he's been giving me those pity looks. He pities me. Which pisses me off and makes me sad at the same time. As much as I don't want to admit it, Calvin's opinion matters to me.

Except it doesn't. So doesn't. Times a million.

"I wasn't aware there was a point." I want to look up at him, except I'm not going to. Haha, stupid Calvin. I bet he wants me to look up at him. He's probably staring at me, waiting for me to look up. Well, too bad, I'm not going—

I look up. Only to see he's still sketching and hasn't lifted his head at all. Oh damn him. Angrily, I respond, "Of course there's a point. Idiot." Back to my nail painting. Don't look at him this time.

"Then why'd you ask?" How did he ever manage to get so damn mellow? He used to be the insanely energetic, incessantly moving child. Where the hell did that kid go?

"I asked what the point was, not whether or not there was point! Get your facts straight." I feel guilty immediately. I shouldn't have yelled. It's just his simple, calm answers annoy me. Is this how he felt when I was a smart-ass in elementary school?

"Fine? You want my answer?" He's looking up. I can feel it. Haha, it's time for my sweet revenge. This is what he gets for not looking up when I thought he was going to! I giggle inwardly, and carry on painting my nails coolly. "Well, I'm not talking to your hair, you know. If you're not ever going to give me a glance, why should I give you my answer?" Damn him and his infernal logics. I was supposed to be the logical one, damn it!

I look up, and I glare at him. "Fine, then. Talk." I put the top back on the nail polish bottle, and cross my arms, waiting expectantly for an answer.

My sudden attention seems to shock him into temporary silence, because he just stares for a couple of seconds. He blinks some, and then opens his mouth to speak. "I think that there is no point. There's no god or goddess to appease, no heaven to reach for, no salvation for any of us. We just try to live our lives as best we can, because, well, what else can we do?"

What else can we do?

"But if there's no salvation, then what's the point? Why try to help people? Why work to make things better in the world if they're all going to die anyway? We all die, so what's the point of living?" I lean forward, my voice choked with emotion, and I'm scaring myself. I had no idea these thoughts had been so tightly wound inside me.

"What's the point of breathing in if you're just going to breathe out? What's the point of eating your favorite food if it's going to be finished? What's the point of kissing a beautiful girl if you're just going to break up?" Calvin's stopped drawing too. He closes his book gently, and places it down on the grass quietly, along with his pencil. He crawls over to sit next to me, but he doesn't say a word. He's waiting for my answer, isn't he? Well, I don't have an answer. I don't know why I do things from day to day, much less why I do things in general.

"I don't know," I whisper, unsure if he even heard me. I cover my face with my hands, breathing in deeply to calm myself. Why am I letting myself get all worked up over this?

Then I feel his arm over my shoulder, light but there. I don't want to move in case he moves it away. It feels . . . nice. I get a warm, twisted feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it aches gently in a lovely fashion.

Move, Susie Derkins. You've done things far more daring than leaning into a guy. Why can't you do this?

Because it's Calvin. It's that constant bother/reassurance and if she tries to change what they've managed to gain again, it will be at what cost?

I feel him moving, and my stomach begins doing gymnastics. Oh god. He's leaning forward. Please, don't do it Calvin. Please.

I feel his breath on my ear, and he whispers, low, so low—with his voice sounding so odd now that's its so close—"Susie, you think too much." Then he gets up—which means he moved away, which is a bad thing, I mean, good thing, good thing—gathers his things, and walks off.

I hate him. He always has to have the last word. He thinks he's so superior.

But even as he walks away, I can't help wonder what would have happened if had stayed.

Dun dun dun.