AN: Omigod, I'm back! After…like…a two month hiatus. I'm so sorry, everyone. I had the worst writer's block imaginable. But I'm back on track now and, hopefully, with finals soon to be over, I'll be able to write more. Yay! Standard disclaimer applies.
The Nick of Time: Will
The following Thursday, exactly eight days before the talent show, we found ourselves in Zach's basement and slightly shaky. We finished the opening bars and got all the way to the bridge before Yuri stopped us. I groaned inwardly; we kept forgetting the God forsaken slow down right before the last chorus. Shutting my eyes tight, I looked over at Layla. She smiled back at me, obviously having fun. I couldn't fathom why. Maybe because she was a girl and girls liked that sort of thing?
"Okay, guys. Let's try from the beginning of the bridge one more time, and then back to the top for a run through," Yuri suggested. "Then I promise we'll go on break."
Strengthened by the thought of ten minutes away from the little egg shakers, I gritted my teeth and focused hard. The previous week Yuri had taken away the music and made us play by memory. Her justification? Real musicians in stage bands didn't play with their heads buried in their music. I was tempted to point out that we weren't real musicians, but feared for my life and kept my mouth shut.
Three and a half minutes later, I was free! Free to steal a soda and some potato chips from the coffee table in the middle of the room and swipe the chair that Warren so coveted. As I sank into the squishy goodness of the chair, someone tapped my shoulder. Swatting them away, I tried to sink further into the comfort of the chair. The tapping returned. I waited a few seconds before opening my eyes and seeing Warren eyeing me out for sitting in the chair.
"Get your own chair," I mumbled.
"Stronghold…" he threatened.
"What?" I tried to roll over and nearly fell out.
He glared half-heartedly at me. "That's my chair."
"No it isn't," I replied. "Oh, so did you decide what to do about your Cheri amour?" I asked, wagging my eyebrows at him. "Hmm?"
Warren's glare intensified. "No." He waited a beat. "Get out of the chair."
"Aww, why not?" I ignored his order and decided to probe deeper. "Chicken?" I smirked.
"NO. Now get out of the damn chair."
"You are chicken, aren't you?" I asked, chuckling to myself. It wasn't every day Warren Peace was afraid to do something, even if it was as scary as asking someone out.
"No, I'm not," he replied stubbornly.
"So where is she now? And how come you aren't putting the moves on her?" I grinned at him.
"She's talking to her boyfriend," he spat venomously.
I sat up. "Aha. So you're jealous?"
He scoffed at me. "I'm not jealous of that dipshit."
I leaned back again, "Yeah, you are."
"I am not."
"You are." I waited for the retort. "Want me to ask her if she likes him back?"
More silence.
I laughed again. "No problem. That's what friend are for."
Yuri and I had English together. That and P.E. were the two mixed classes that Hero and Hero Support shared. Thankfully, I snagged a seat next to her near the back of the room. Just as thankfully, we were peer editing our latest essays. Dr. Payne gave us the whole class but, realistically, it only took us about twenty minutes to get through everything and, so long as we were quiet, the last half hour was like a free period. It was during this time that I executed my conniving and brilliant plan.
"So," I began.
Yuri looked up from her novel, The Martian Chronicles, and stared at me quizzically. "Yes?"
"…good book?" I asked, grinning.
Giving me a skeptical glance, she returned to reading. "Yes. I've read it before; Ray Bradbury is always good."
"Good." A silence ensued. "So," I said again.
"Yes?" she answered without looked up.
"How are things with you in Nicholas-land?"
Shutting her book, Yuri stared at me. "Excuse me?"
"I was just wondering, being as you're always on the phone with him at rehearsals. Patched things up, have we?" I teased.
"…no."
"Oh." I leaned in, "Whyever not?"
"It's complicated," she replied, obviously finished with the subject. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't quite done yet.
"Care to share?" I smiled wide, hopeful.
"I told you; it's complicated," she repeated.
"I've got time," was my witty answer as I looked at the clock.
Another skeptical look crossed Yuri's face before she sighed. "It's just… I don't know." She waved her hand in front of her face. "We were good together, you know?"
I nodded, completely not understanding.
"We were a good couple. And he's a good guy, most of the time. He's just…a little flighty." Yuri shook her head. "I know he wants to try again, but the thing is, we've tried again before." She paused for a beat. "With the same results."
"Do you still like him?" I inquired subtly.
"I don't know. I-" stopping, she eyed me, as if wondering how much to divulge. "I've…It's like Maj and Zach. They're always fighting and always making up. That's how we were. But it was always me yelling at him, not me doing things wrong. So I don't know if it's worth it. You know, to take him back."
"That's not answering my question," I pointed out.
"I don't know if I still like him. I really don't know. I told Warren this; we were good together, and I don't know if we'd still be good together or not. Before, I could keep an eye on him, when we went to the same school. Now…now every time he can't make it to a date, I'll wonder. I don't want to be like that." Yuri sighed, frustrated. "He says he can change, but I just don't believe him."
"Why don't you get a new boyfriend?" I suggested.
Yuri laughed. "Like who?" Shaking her head, she smiled ruefully. "Boys don't ask girls like me out. The ones who know me see me as 'one of the guys' and the boys who ask me out after twenty seconds are obviously asking for the wrong reasons." She smiled again. "That's just the way it is."
"How do you know?" I asked.
She shrugged. "That's just the way it is with me," Yuri replied, going back to her book.
I shook my head. My work was done, but boy, was she in for a surprise.
Sidling into the Paper Lantern the next time Warren had a shift, Friday night, I tried to tone down the shit-eating grin that must have been on my face. I really did. But I was so good. I mean, come on. I'd basically gotten the girl to tell me her deepest, darkest secrets. Okay, okay, so maybe not. But it was significantly more information than her beau-to-be had gleaned. So I had that shit-eating grin for a reason. A damn good reason.
"Stronghold," Warren greeted me callously, on his way to table…eight, I think, to pick up the finished dishes.
I waved in response. "Time for a chat?" I asked when he started back for the kitchen, bus tray in hand.
"Maybe after the dinner rush," he grunted, just catching the brimming bin of dishes as it slipped.
"All right," I waved again, trying to decide between lemon chicken, my staple at Chinese restaurants, and that garlicky-smells-to-heaven egg thing that Layla was always going on about. I chose the chicken.
After about an hour, I was going to give Mei a really good tip, I promise, Warren slid into the seat next to me and drained my water glass. "Hey, Stronghold."
I stared at my empty glass for a few seconds, then sighed. "Hey."
"So, what brings you to the Chinese restaurant, hm?" he asked, sounding slightly amused.
"I talked to Yuri about Nicholas."
He perked up. "You did?" Leaning forward, he got serious…er…seriouser. Because, seriously, when is Warren ever not serious? Anyway. "Well?"
"Well what?" I asked innocently.
Warren glared at me. "Well, what did she say, you dumbass?"
"She told me…things," I replied vaguely, smirking. It was not every day I got to smirk at Warren Peace. Usually it was the other way around. I was going to draw out this moment for as long as humanely possible.
"Cut the crap, Stronghold. Tell me what she told you." Sitting back, he folded his arms and did The Stare. With capital letters. You know, the I'm-capable-of-ripping-you-to-shreds-with-my-bare-hands-and-I-know-it stare. I hate that one.
"Aw, fine. She says she doesn't want him back; happy?" I sighed, defeated.
"Anything else?" he asked, obviously hinting at something.
"Um…guys ask her out for the wrong reasons?" I tried. "Oh. Or guys just don't ask her out, period."
Warren got another look on his face. The one that said I was being stupid. "What?" I asked, totally lost.
"Does she know about me, you idiot."
I blinked. "Of course she knows about you, I mean, she's your friend isn't she?" I was not understanding this conversation.
"Stronghold," Warren began, "I don't know how you can be so…insightful and…just really stupid at the same time." When my blank expression didn't change, he sighed. "Does she know about, you know, me…well, you know." He rolled his eyes at me.
"Huh?"
Scratching his left eyebrow, Warren got that look that said his patience was running thin. "Does she know I like her?" he asked finally.
Oh. "Of course not," I replied.
Looking irritated, Warren stood and looked at me with pity. "Stronghold, you're an idiot sometimes."
And this is the thanks I get. Huh.
At our second to the last rehearsal ever (Hallelujah), I pulled Warren aside during one of our oh-too-few breaks for a little man-to-man talk. Or something.
"What do you want, Stronghold?" he asked, obviously irritated. I could guess the reason why. Yuri was on her cell phone, probably talking to public enemy no. 1 in Warren's book.
"Have you thought about the singing thing?" I asked.
"The singing that we're doing on Friday? Gee, it hadn't crossed my mind," he replied, then hit me upside the head. "Of course I'm thinking about it, you idiot."
"Ow!" I rubbed my ear, "That's not what I meant."
"Oh, do tell."
"Have you thought about the singing to Yuri thing yet?"
For a few moments, there was silence. "You mention that again, and I'll barbeque you, understand?"
"Oh, come on," I began. "Hey, I've got an idea. Let's make a bet. Okay?"
"…what kind of bet?"
"How about…if we win the talent show, you have to sing to her. If we don't, you're free and clear to let her go, which is what you've been doing all along."
Warren glared at me. "What do you mean, 'what I've been doing all along'?"
"Well, you're not putting any moves on her, that's for sure," I observed, dryly. "Oh, come on," I said again. "It's just one song. You know she likes your voice. Just do it. Just say, 'Okay, Will, I'll take that bet'."
A look that screamed 'I'm unconvinced' seemed to take over. "Yeah, right."
"Come. On."
"No."
"You're gonna let her go," I warned. "It sounds like she's seriously considering taking Prince Charming back unless someone convinces her that there are better fish in the sea…"
Silence. Silence was good when you argued with Warren. It meant that he couldn't think of anything to say that would counteract your point.
"Well…?"
"All right, fine. Shut up." He glared at me, knowing I was right. Haha, I loved being right.
A voice interrupted my gloating. "Come on, you guys, one last run through and we'll call it a night!"
That nice gloating feeling disappeared. I picked up my dreaded egg shakers and sighed.
Now for the thank-yous.
Dark Dragoon: I'm so sorry…the update wasn't soon at all. But here's the next chapter, better late than never, right?
Off Dreaming: Haha. Actually, Chris thinks I'm mentally unstable for writing fan fiction. Shows how much he knows about stuff.
Nelle07 and Lady11Occult: I'm trying to manage squeezing Nick into the talent show chapter (next one), which means I'm reworking the setting for that one. But I agree, it's good confrontation.
Also, VERY IMPORTANT STUFF!
I'm holding a casting call of sorts for talent show acts. I need a female singer, a male singer, a magician, a stand-up comedian, a dancer/acrobat, and something interesting, like a juggler or plate spinner or musician playing something other than the guitar/piano.
Send me a brief description (physical and personality), name, and act if you're interested.
Much love, SeraphStar.
