"Ah, bleep," grumbled Michelle as she checked the mail.
"What?" asked Michael, looking up briefly before resuming his task of bothering three of the family's lovebirds.
"I got a letter," Michelle answered, and after glancing at her friend, "Stop poking a stick at those birds. They'll make a fuss later when I feed them."
"Oh my goodness," Michael gasped sarcastically, "A letter. So? And didn't you feed those birds this morning? And aren't they your parents' job?"
"It's a letter from the, ugh, school," Michelle called over her shoulder as she walked to the living room, "And my parents don't take care of them, they always forget. Well, my dad used to, but not anymore. Oh, and there's no truth to birds not eating much. Seriously, these birds make it look like they just survived a famine or something."
"Whatever," Michael put his hands up, as if surrendering. He threw the twig he was holding out an open window and looked over Michelle's shoulder.
"What's in the letter?"
"It says...dododododo...hang on a min..." Michelle skimmed over most of the lines, and then said, "It says that we have to go register for our schedules and stuff...tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the first day of school."
"Oh," Michael shrugged and flopped onto the leather couch, "When you goin'?"
"I dunno. Probably day after tomorrow. Too lazy to go to school yet, a lot of people will be going tommorrow, and besides, I need extra time to find my first room for the day,"
Michelle threw the letter onto the coffee table where her parents could see it, and added, "I'm not that familiar with Martingrove yet. You?"
"I'll go with you," Michael grinned, "Your parents won't let you out of the house alone, remember?"
"Oh. Yeah, yeah, whatever. I hope there won't be any problems since you're registed just a month before school started."
"I personally do not care. High schools're supposed to be organized, so they'd better be prepared."
Michelle smiled, as she switched on the family computer.
"You sound like the typical rebel/bad boy type. Stay out of my face or die."
"Well, you act like that sometimes too, don't forget," Michael countered as he got up and pulled up a chair beside hers.
"Like when?" the girl asked as she impatiently waited for the computer to load.
"Well, I've only been here a few weeks and haven't actually seen you like that...but when you walk down the street you do that thing girls do with the belt loops near the back...you know. Like sort of cowboy style, only your hands're behind you...sort of..."
"Only Michael Bertrand would take the time to notice these things...like how close in proximity my hands are to my butt," Michelle murmured, just loud enough for Michael to barely hear.
"Hey! How did you kno...er, what makes you think I'm looking at your butt?" Michael asked, trying to look as angelic as possible.
Michelle grabbed the towel that was draped across the back of her chair, and whipped it at him, though not even glancing at him as she was staring at the computer screen.
"Quit trying to look innocent. It definitely clashes with the baggy pants, black, loose t-shirt, and green bandanna you're wearing right now. I can't really imagine a gang member as the picture of innocence."
Michael checked his clothes. She hadn't looked at him, but she had described him perfectly.
"Do you normally memorize what people are wearing so that later on you can creep them out into thinking that you're psychic?"
"What? I'm right?"
She glanced at him.
"Well whaddaya know," and soon added, "Finally. The computer's working."
Michelle quickly typed in the password to sign onto the internet so that Michael couldn't see, and then sat back in her chair.
"Lovely. Now we wait some more."
"Why don't your parents get cable or high speed?"
"Because either it costs too much, or it's un-necessary for my educational needs. But I disagree, considering that my homework will take longer to do if the internet sucks. I can't get information fast enough."
"Fast enough for who? The teacher or you?"
"Bit of both."
Michael chuckled.
"I can't wait to see you in your school with 80 minute long periods."
"Twice as long as the middle school period," Michelle sighed, "At least I have lunch to look forward to. Speaking of which," Michelle got up and quickly walked downstairs to the kitchen, "I'm hungry."
"Girl with a cute figure and a tight butt like that who loves to eat," Michael thought as he absently toyed with the mouse as the computer loaded, "Rar."
"What?"
Michael turned bright red. He'd realized that he'd growled out loud, and Michelle had silently come back with a bag of chips.
"Eh, eh, nothing. I thought you were on your way downstairs?" Michael managed to mumble through.
"I was, and then halfway down the stairs I realized I had a bag of chips in my room," Michelle explained.
"What flavour?"
"Regular."
"Why do you never choose anything other than regular, or bacon?"
"Why do you care? And move. You're in my chair."
"Make me."
Michelle gave him her sad eyes, which were extremely cute and did justice to her practicing in the mirror for five years.
"Not fair, so not fair," the guy stated as he moved.
"Whoever said the world was fair?" Michelle retorted as she began typing a storm after she stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth.
"What are you doing?"
"Sending a letter out, as not everyone is on MSN."
"Everyone?"
"As in the whole group you saw...two weeks ago. Scott's abusing his gifts, as well as his cuz. Um.as in his cuz is abusing his gifts. Scott isn't abusing his cousin. They were harrassing someone-"
"-A whore," Michael cut in.
"Someone," Michelle continued, "And Diana certainly doesn't have a gift, otherwise she'd have used them to protect herself."
"But maybe she has something like Melissa's healing ability, and can't use it against anyone."
"Nope, 'cuz if she did, then her wrist wouldn't have been sprained like that."
"Wasn't it a minor sprain? Maybe she heals really slowly."
"Actually, that sprain was pretty serious."
"Why didn't you tell her?" Michael looked at her in shock. This seemingly caring girl, really being a total #%&@* with a flare for hurting people...
"I knew that once she got home she would put on airs anyway, and complain that she was dying of the pain in her wrist. Eventually her parents would take her to the hospital, and she'd be taken care of. Seriously, that girl can be a brat sometimes."
"Oh..."
Michelle sent the letter, and then turned off the internet.
"Now, when we go to register, we can expect everyone to come, save maybe one," Michelle said, thinking of Adam.
"What?" asked Michael, looking up briefly before resuming his task of bothering three of the family's lovebirds.
"I got a letter," Michelle answered, and after glancing at her friend, "Stop poking a stick at those birds. They'll make a fuss later when I feed them."
"Oh my goodness," Michael gasped sarcastically, "A letter. So? And didn't you feed those birds this morning? And aren't they your parents' job?"
"It's a letter from the, ugh, school," Michelle called over her shoulder as she walked to the living room, "And my parents don't take care of them, they always forget. Well, my dad used to, but not anymore. Oh, and there's no truth to birds not eating much. Seriously, these birds make it look like they just survived a famine or something."
"Whatever," Michael put his hands up, as if surrendering. He threw the twig he was holding out an open window and looked over Michelle's shoulder.
"What's in the letter?"
"It says...dododododo...hang on a min..." Michelle skimmed over most of the lines, and then said, "It says that we have to go register for our schedules and stuff...tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the first day of school."
"Oh," Michael shrugged and flopped onto the leather couch, "When you goin'?"
"I dunno. Probably day after tomorrow. Too lazy to go to school yet, a lot of people will be going tommorrow, and besides, I need extra time to find my first room for the day,"
Michelle threw the letter onto the coffee table where her parents could see it, and added, "I'm not that familiar with Martingrove yet. You?"
"I'll go with you," Michael grinned, "Your parents won't let you out of the house alone, remember?"
"Oh. Yeah, yeah, whatever. I hope there won't be any problems since you're registed just a month before school started."
"I personally do not care. High schools're supposed to be organized, so they'd better be prepared."
Michelle smiled, as she switched on the family computer.
"You sound like the typical rebel/bad boy type. Stay out of my face or die."
"Well, you act like that sometimes too, don't forget," Michael countered as he got up and pulled up a chair beside hers.
"Like when?" the girl asked as she impatiently waited for the computer to load.
"Well, I've only been here a few weeks and haven't actually seen you like that...but when you walk down the street you do that thing girls do with the belt loops near the back...you know. Like sort of cowboy style, only your hands're behind you...sort of..."
"Only Michael Bertrand would take the time to notice these things...like how close in proximity my hands are to my butt," Michelle murmured, just loud enough for Michael to barely hear.
"Hey! How did you kno...er, what makes you think I'm looking at your butt?" Michael asked, trying to look as angelic as possible.
Michelle grabbed the towel that was draped across the back of her chair, and whipped it at him, though not even glancing at him as she was staring at the computer screen.
"Quit trying to look innocent. It definitely clashes with the baggy pants, black, loose t-shirt, and green bandanna you're wearing right now. I can't really imagine a gang member as the picture of innocence."
Michael checked his clothes. She hadn't looked at him, but she had described him perfectly.
"Do you normally memorize what people are wearing so that later on you can creep them out into thinking that you're psychic?"
"What? I'm right?"
She glanced at him.
"Well whaddaya know," and soon added, "Finally. The computer's working."
Michelle quickly typed in the password to sign onto the internet so that Michael couldn't see, and then sat back in her chair.
"Lovely. Now we wait some more."
"Why don't your parents get cable or high speed?"
"Because either it costs too much, or it's un-necessary for my educational needs. But I disagree, considering that my homework will take longer to do if the internet sucks. I can't get information fast enough."
"Fast enough for who? The teacher or you?"
"Bit of both."
Michael chuckled.
"I can't wait to see you in your school with 80 minute long periods."
"Twice as long as the middle school period," Michelle sighed, "At least I have lunch to look forward to. Speaking of which," Michelle got up and quickly walked downstairs to the kitchen, "I'm hungry."
"Girl with a cute figure and a tight butt like that who loves to eat," Michael thought as he absently toyed with the mouse as the computer loaded, "Rar."
"What?"
Michael turned bright red. He'd realized that he'd growled out loud, and Michelle had silently come back with a bag of chips.
"Eh, eh, nothing. I thought you were on your way downstairs?" Michael managed to mumble through.
"I was, and then halfway down the stairs I realized I had a bag of chips in my room," Michelle explained.
"What flavour?"
"Regular."
"Why do you never choose anything other than regular, or bacon?"
"Why do you care? And move. You're in my chair."
"Make me."
Michelle gave him her sad eyes, which were extremely cute and did justice to her practicing in the mirror for five years.
"Not fair, so not fair," the guy stated as he moved.
"Whoever said the world was fair?" Michelle retorted as she began typing a storm after she stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth.
"What are you doing?"
"Sending a letter out, as not everyone is on MSN."
"Everyone?"
"As in the whole group you saw...two weeks ago. Scott's abusing his gifts, as well as his cuz. Um.as in his cuz is abusing his gifts. Scott isn't abusing his cousin. They were harrassing someone-"
"-A whore," Michael cut in.
"Someone," Michelle continued, "And Diana certainly doesn't have a gift, otherwise she'd have used them to protect herself."
"But maybe she has something like Melissa's healing ability, and can't use it against anyone."
"Nope, 'cuz if she did, then her wrist wouldn't have been sprained like that."
"Wasn't it a minor sprain? Maybe she heals really slowly."
"Actually, that sprain was pretty serious."
"Why didn't you tell her?" Michael looked at her in shock. This seemingly caring girl, really being a total #%&@* with a flare for hurting people...
"I knew that once she got home she would put on airs anyway, and complain that she was dying of the pain in her wrist. Eventually her parents would take her to the hospital, and she'd be taken care of. Seriously, that girl can be a brat sometimes."
"Oh..."
Michelle sent the letter, and then turned off the internet.
"Now, when we go to register, we can expect everyone to come, save maybe one," Michelle said, thinking of Adam.