General note to the public: If you are reading a chapter after the next one has already been posted, please feel free to review EVERY chapter you read. Even though there'll be a lot of your reviews all in a row. I love that. It's just like boom boom boom in my inbox and I'm thrice as happy. And the looonger the better. Really. A review can't be too long. As you can see, looking through my review box, you'll even notice that not all of the reviews have ANYTHING TO DO WITH MY STORY. I would PREFER that it MENTIONED the story, but relaly, if it's that or no review, I like at least knowing you're reading. Ya kno? Neway…
Wow, lol, chappy 16 has gotten more hits than any other since the 1st… and yet the least reviews. THREE reviews. Hmm… Come on…. YOU'RE SLACKING, PEOPLE! CHOP CHOP! Haha just kidding no really review PLEASE? Anyway. To those wonderful, wonderful people who DID review…
Mrs. Nikki Slater: What a coincidence! I've recently been nicknamed (thanx, andrea t.) Emily de Silva OH MY GOD I FORGOT HOW YOU SPELL JESSE'S LAST NAME! AND JUST YESTERDAY I TYPOED AND MISSED AN S IN JESSE! I'M SLACKING:'( Right… review… anyway. Yay! I'm glad u like it. :grins:
Alenor: You shall immediately find out who is holding the knife. Bwahahahaha. And I think you might actually be surprised. Actually, you probably will be.
AmethystHannah: No problem… better late than never… :sighs: You think THAT was ridiculous? You have not SEEN ridiculous. Shut up, Emily, it's not just ridiculous… it's like a soap-opera… only vaguely funny… and the guys are hotter.
Well, I guess YOU three are just extra-special, now, aren't you? I'd like to thank the NINETEEN people who have this story on favorites, and the SIX who have it on alert. As well as the thirteen people who have MOI on their favvies, and the NINETEEN who have me on alerts. Ty, all!
Where were we? Ahh, yes. Our Susie wakes up AGAIN with a knife to her throat. Bwah.
I groaned. "Not tonight, Maria, I have a headache."
Then I heard a high, scratchy voice. "Who's Maria?"
My eyes popped open. "Monica?"
"She can't get to the phone right now, may I take a message?"
It was a butter knife, anyway. Not as easy to do damage with a butter knife as it is with a nice cleaver, but I didn't really want to give Monica's alter-ego murdering tips. "Who's Maria?" she asked again in her Scabbers voice.
"Oh, just this girl who's been trying to kidnap and kill me twice in the last day or so." The aim had been confusion. It worked. I took this opportunity to grab the knife and put it to the side, then roll over and hold Monica down. Of course I wouldn't hurt her, but she and "Scabbers" didn't know that.
"Now I'm going to perform a possessing demon exorcism." I was making this all up, and it wasn't quite regulation, but who cares? "Scabbers, you will leave Monica when I count to 3! 1… 2… 3!" Monica threw her head back like they do on movies when a demon's leaving a body. Whatever works.
"Oh, Suze, I'm so sorry!" She started sobbing.
"That's OK. He's gone now." I wasn't sure if it'd be permanent, but she'd put the knife down. I'd deal with it when I'd deal with it.
"Thank you, Suze!" She smiled weakly. "So who's Maria?"
"Oh, just this idiot woman who keeps waking me up."
"With a knife?"
"More or less."
"Oh." She digested this. "My mom's getting out tomorrow."
"That's great! I guess… I'm going home, then…"
She misinterpreted my despair at this prospect and gave me a hug. Kind of cute, actually.
"Goodnight, Mon."
"Goodnight, Suze." She said my name a lot. I guess she liked addressing an adult on a first name basis. Nickname, even. I went to sleep and woke up, for once, with no knife to my throat, but instead fingers running through my hair.
"Good morning, Leon." Not really. Just checking whether you were paying attention. I really said "Good morning, Jesse."
"Good morning, querida. I don't want to bring up bad news…"
"…but you will anyway." I finished.
"More or less. You realize that by now Diego will have told Slater what you did. And said. Do you suppose he's read the Princess Bride?"
"Wouldn't know. I just saw the movie."
"Oh, you should. The book is great, but for a girl like you, witty, modern, quizzical, The Princess Diaries is better. It's cute, funny, and the author is a goddess." :holds up copy: The Princess Diaries, by Meg Cabot, goddess of the world. Buy now, on sale. Number one best seller." (A/N: Whoooah of course that didn't just happen. You know I wouldn't really call suze witty. :badum-pum: Now where were we?) "You should. It's a wonderful book. Of course, the movie might be more you." His eyes were twinkling like mad.
"Oh, very cute." Actually, 'cute' was a pretty good word for Jesse. Or sexy beyond all reason. Either works. "Oh, I hear Monica. Morning Mon! Did I wake you up?"
"No, I've been up for a couple of hours. 10:00 on Saturday morning?"
"Ooh, cartoons?"
"American History Documentary on the History channel. We're up to the 19th century! Once we hit the 21st, we get to go to primordial England!"
"Exciting. So what was it like in the 19th century?" I asked, because Jesse looked interested.
"They wore incredibly funny clothes. And they talked funny." She looked incredibly amused, maybe at my face. Jesse was looking at me wryly. I put my arm around him and tried to look like I was stretching or something. Monica found this incredibly funny.
"Claire gets out today," he informed me.
"Oh, that's right! Hey Mon, your mom's out today, huh?"
"Yups!" Cute.
Jesse informed me that she was on her way with Tim. "She sent me to tell you that they were getting ready to leave, but I didn't want to wake you. That was an hour ago, so they should be—" The car pulled up.
"That should be th—her now!" I exclaimed for Monica's benefit. She went running to the front of the house.
"Mommy!" Claire stepped out of her car, which was a Jaguar, by the way, walking stiffly (Claire, not the Jag) because of the cast thing under her shirt. Her head was in bad shape, but other than that she looked pretty good.
"Hey, Monny-cat!" She managed to give Monica a bear hug. "Hey Suze! So did she give you any trouble?"
"No, not at all!" I said, nodding vigorously over Monica's shoulder. "Perfect angel." I mimed a knife to the throat. Claire mouthed 'Ghost?' I shook my head and pointed at Monica. Claire's eyes widened. I smiled to show no harm done.
"Brilliant. So are you going back home? Because you're welcome to stay here as long as you like!"
"Nah, I'm gonna face my demons back at home."
"You mean Maria?" asked Monica helpfully. Claire walked stiffly up to me, turned around, faced Monica, and elbowed me. (A/N: I luv Claire!)
"Yes, Maria," I tried to save myself. "Why don't you tell your mom what you know about Maria?"
"She keeps waking Suze up. With a knife. What does that mean?"
"It just means… she… cooks for me! And… she clangs with the knife to tell me breakfast's ready!" She seemed to believe this without question. Couldn't tell if she really did, though.
Jesse walked Claire inside and onto a couch, gentleman that he is, and came out to walk me home. Jesse was chuckling about something. When I asked him what was so funny, he just said "My name is Inigo Montoya…" and went back into silent laughter. I planted him one on the cheek and we went home. All was good until a week later, when my hair was brown again, Claire was feeling better, and Jesse and I passed Paul in the food court at the mall. He was looking better, unfortunately—I suspected a lot of money had gone into his looking that way—and was with his posse (of live people, for once).
"Suze!" he called.
"Paul!" I gave him my biggest fake smile. Jesse immediately put a protective arm around me. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Suze, give it to me straight… why won't you go out with me?"
Tricky situation. I couldn't say I had a boyfriend no one had ever seen, not in front of Paul's little gang… Jesse was holding me maybe a little tighter than he needed to. Got it! "Well, Paul, it might have something to do with how every time you ask me out and I'm about to say no, you try to get my sympathy or something by pretending to be beaten up by invisible people." Jesse smiled gratefully then grinned maliciously at Paul. Paul, having just barely survived Jesse's last temper tantrum, looked really, really scared. Yay! I thought of something, though. "But there's never a mark or anything that prove anything." Jesse got my meaning and punched Paul in the gut. I'd have gone lower, but Jesse probably had honor and junk. Paul doubled over, and his friends looked at him, sickened that apparently their group leader was crazy. I bit my lip. This might be a bad time to crack up. I shook my head and ran away, into Tres Chic, where I ran into a fitting room and cried with mirth.
A/N: Less ridiculous, at all? Naah… ahh, well… a little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest of men… of course, there are no men reading this… ARE YOU JOSH? Haha, doubt it. Well, josh is kind of a moron anyway. If he comments on the fact that I said that, I'll take it out. :grins evilly: It stays till he reads this. (josh is my boyfriend, uninformed chicas. And possibly Paul Flowers. Hey, if paul F.'s reading this, how's mariachi-a-gogo-land? Presumable land of jesse's heritage?) Haha, Clark Kent's mom on s. ville comes up to clark's chin! Hahaha! PLEASE REVIEW, MY LOVELY REVIEWERS! AND POSSIBLY PAUL FLOWERS!