Chapter 2

It was a relatively short walk from Carl's newer house in Blake's old neighborhood, to Carl's old house, where Blake currently lived. It had been quite a while since Carl and Hoodsey had walked this way, even to visit Blake. Like, a year-and-a-half. Despite being on better terms with each other, Carl and Blake had grown considerably less close over the years. They were never closer, than when they were close enough to be at each other's throats. Carl supposed that was why he was so desperate to play a prank on Blake. As children, Carl had never really wanted to be Blake's friend, if only because he was already satisfied with their rivalry, but Carl wasn't missing that aspect of their dynamic; he just missed Blake. Playing a prank would've just been an excuse.

"It's like you'll find any excuse to interact with Blake."

Carl pushed Hoodsey's words to the back of his head, as they shuffled down the familiar sidewalk. Loud bass could be heard even halfway down the street. Hoodsey didn't look thrilled, but that only spoke volumes about how desperate he was to see Macie. Carl could probably say the same for himself with Blake, but he wasn't going to think about that, or compare his obsession with Blake to Hoodsey's with Macie.

Hoodsey knocked on the front door, but no one answered, so they decided to just let themselves into the crowded house, where it was deafeningly louder. A few people turned to see who'd just arrived, but most people either didn't know the guys, or didn't care, and returned their attention to whatever they'd been preoccupied with; pouring shots, passing joints, playing beer pong, making-out, grinding against each other on the dance floor. Awkwardly, the boys stood in the entranceway, surveying their environment, until they were eventually approached by Ginger's goth friend, Laetitia Bowers, whose father ironically ran the town mortuary. As always, she was dressed entirely in black, with her naturally brown hair dyed black, and her lips and nails painted (you guessed it!) black. Honestly, Carl would've been surprised by her presence at such a party, had he not known how popular Laetitia had actually become, over the years. People seemed to eventually realize that she was pretty cool, either despite or due to her appearance. She was really chill, and had a funny, albeit dark, sense of humor.

"Hey, Laetitia," Carl greeted. "How've you been?"

"Can't complain." She shrugged. "Are you guys looking for your sisters?"

"Nah, I'm just here to bother Blake," Carl explained. "Have you seen Macie, though? Hoodsey wants to say hi, to her."

"Yeah, she's right over there." Letitia pointed toward the couch, which had once faced the opposite direction, but had been turned around, and now happened to face the door.

The boys followed the direction of Letitia's gaze, until their eyes fell upon Macie.

Like the couch potato she'd always been, Miranda was slumped beside her, as she sipped a beer, and watched Courtney drunkenly fawn over Ginger. Currently, the blonde's arm was draped around the redhead's shoulder, as the former used the latter to steady her balance, on their way toward the kitchen.

Sighing, Miranda returned her attention to her flip phone, on which she decided to play another round of Tetris. It wasn't that she was still jealous of Ginger, since Miranda knew she'd always be Courtney's best friend, but Ginger completely distracted Courtney, which could be annoying. Fortunately, Macie was here, and enough of a wallflower to sit beside Miranda, and keep her company. Dodie was preoccupied with being swung arrhythmically around the dance floor by her boyfriend, Chet, but Miranda admittedly still didn't care for her much, anyway, and her presence would've only distracted Macie. In all honesty, Macie was probably even more of a dork, but, unlike her wannabe friends, and most people Miranda knew, including herself, Macie didn't concern herself with being cool. To Miranda, there was secretly nothing truly cooler than that. If anything, Dodie tried way too hard, which was just off-putting, and she was probably more superficial than Miranda and Courtney, put together. Not to mention, the cheerleader was way too peppy for Miranda's tastes.

With another sigh, Miranda looked up from her phone, and saw Ginger and Dodie's younger brothers standing in the entrance way. Carl was surveying the room, as though looking for someone in particular, but Dodie's brother, whose name suddenly escaped Miranda, was frozen in place, with his eyes wide on Macie. "Hey, Lightfoot," Miranda nudged Macie's arm with her elbow, "that guy is checking you out." Macie followed the direction of Miranda's eyes, toward where Carl and Hoodsey awkwardly stood. Hoodsey waved sheepishly at Macie, and Miranda swore that she could see him blush from halfway across the room.

"Oh, that's Dodie's brother," Macie clarified, as though Miranda didn't already know. "He's just saying hi." She waved back rather enthusiastically.

"Girl, you know he likes you, right?"

"What?!" Macie said with a hint of laughter in her voice. "No, he doesn't," she insisted, though she didn't sound very sure of herself.

"Yeah, he does," Miranda informed her, "and it's obvious you like him back." Macie's jaw dropped slightly, as though ready to deny it, but no sound escaped her mouth. Her cheeks were suddenly red, and she found it impossible to keep eye contact with Miranda. She averted her eyes, and let her gaze wander toward Hoodsey, who was tentatively making his way across the living room. "I'm getting another drink," Miranda said, giving up her space on the couch to make room for Hoodsey, and allow Macie alone time with him. "Good luck." Miranda winked, as she set off on her quest to find Mipsy.

"Um, do you mind if I sit here?" Hoodsey asked, suddenly in front of Macie.

"Not at all," Macie replied in her nasally voice, subconsciously scooting over for Hoodsey, even though there was already plenty of room. "Was Carl looking for Ginger?"

"Nah, he's looking for Blake. That's why we're here," Hoodsey said, though that was only why Carl was there. Hoodsey was there for Macie, but she didn't need to know that. Or, maybe she did, but Hoodsey was too shy to let her know that, anyway. Besides, he'd probably sound like a stalker.

Once Hoodsey was distracted by Macie, Carl set off in his quest for Blake. He quickly searched the kitchen, and pocketed a tiny bottle of rum from the liquor cabinet, then made his way upstairs, where the hall was equally crowded. One couple exited Courtney's bedroom, which once belonged to Ginger, and a separate couple immediately entered. In fact, it appeared a line of couples had formed outside that door. Ian Richton happened to be leaned against the door that opened into Blake's room, but Carl told him to amscray, and proceeded to knock. Nobody answered, so Carl hesitantly opened the door. He expected the room to be empty, but Blake was actually there, sprawled out on the bed that used to be Carl's. Blake's eyes were closed, and he appeared to be asleep, though Carl didn't know how anyone could possibly sleep through this noise. Upon closer inspection, however, there were earbuds in Blake's ears, and an iPod sat nearby on the bed. Carl wasn't sure how to get Blake's attention, without startling him, but realized that'd probably be funnier, and was preparing to give him a jump scare, when Blake suddenly opened his eyes. They were on the ceiling, though, so he didn't notice Carl, right away. It was only when Blake went to change the track on his iPod, that he spotted a figure in the corner of his eye. With a gasp, he practically jumped off the bed, causing Carl to double over in a fit of laughter.

"Good Lord!" Blake pressed a hand to his racing heart. "You could've given me a heart attack."

Carl straightened himself back out, and struck a laidback pose; leaning against the door frame, with his arms folded across his chest, and one leg crossed over the other. "What's up, Blakey-boy?"

"I was trying to block out the sound of Courtney's music."

"By playing different music right in your ears?"

"At least it was my music," Blake said, tossing aside the iPod, which probably contained only stuff like Beethoven and Mozart and Bach. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Hoodsey wanted to see Macie," Carl said simply, because that was technically true, even if not the reason why Carl himself was here. Blake invited him into the room, which also seemed foreign to Carl, as he awkwardly sat on the edge of squeaky bed with its lumpy mattress.

When the Foutleys replaced their outdated furniture, they left it to the Griplings, who could barely even afford to buy the house. It was ironically fortunate that Carl's mother married a wealthy doctor around the same time Blake's family went bankrupt. Blake's father was still locked up for insider trading, and Carl would've cared more, if Blake appeared to care at all. Blake had rarely been able to see his father, anyway, and his mother was emotionally distant, despite her physical proximity, so Blake was basically raised by their butler, who he'd picked up his British accent from. Winston cared so deeply for Blake, that he defiantly stuck around for him, even after he'd lost his position as the family's butler. He was quickly hired as the concierge of a fancy hotel, while Blake's mother landed a job as a receptionist. Hell, even Courtney worked a part-time job at a fashion store in the mall, where she received a discount on all the trendy clothes. "Man, you keep this room way cleaner than I used to." Carl surveyed the spotlessly clean room, which had been repainted periwinkle. "I can actually see the carpet."

"And, all the stains you left on it," Blake quipped. "Anyway, why would Hoodsey come just to see Macie? Has he finally gathered the courage to ask her out?"

"Let's hope so." Carl sighed, wondering if Hoodsey had chickened out, or somehow already blown his chance.

To Hoodsey's own surprise, he somehow hadn't yet blown it with Macie. They'd been chatting for a while, and were both feeling more comfortable with each other. By the time a slower song was playing, and couples were dancing less provocatively to it, Hoodsey even felt courageous enough to ask Macie for a dance. She accepted his hand, and allowed herself to be pulled onto her feet, toward the center of the living room. He put his hands on her waist, and she rested her hands on his shoulders, and they began to waltz. He twirled her a couple times, and dipped her, before raising her back into their initial position. "you're quite the dancer."

"Better than Chet?" Hoodsey joked, eliciting a nasally giggle from Macie.

"Those dance lessons clearly paid off," she complimented. "Burl..." The name was purred into Hoodsey's ear, and his eyes widened.

"You knew about that?"

"That you were taking dance lessons, or that you're the true identity of Burl Forkenschtock?"

"Both." Hoodsey's face flushed. "More specifically, the latter."

"Well, I wasn't quite sure at the time, but it only took a few days to fully realize. It was kinda too obvious to deny. I mean, I have bad eyesight, but I'm not blind, and certainly not deaf."

"I guess my voice was pretty unconvincing," Hoodsey agreed.

They stared into each other's eyes, as he continued to swing Macie elegantly around the dance floor, until their lips were drawn together by a gravitational force. It was just a peck. A moment that lasted an eternity, but was somehow already over. When their lips parted, they went back to staring into each other's eyes, barely aware of the sway of their bodies. They both appeared to be at a loss for words, until Macie finally spoke. "Also, Dodie told everyone about the dance lessons."

Hoodsey rolled his eyes. "Of course."