A/N: Special thank to Ravenshell for being my beta!

Chapter 51

I curl into my side, pulling the covers under my chin to stave off the chill of my room. Snuggling deeper into the mattress, I don't remember my bed being so unbelievably cozy. No squeaks, no springs grinding into my behind; it's like sleeping on an angel's bed if angels' beds were made of warm fluffy clouds. If this is a dream, I wanna stay here forever.

What is that god-awful smell? I scrunch my nose up at the obnoxious scent—a mix between dog crap and sewage-dipped garlic. I try to ignore it and go back to sleep, but the sound of a freight train beside me destroys that notion. Prying my eyes open with a gruff mutter, things start to come into focus. This is not my bed. This is not my room—its April's. And the freight train beside me is not April. Rolling over toward the center of the bed, my eyes bug out as I shriek, desperately trying to untangle myself from the sheets and mercilessly fall to the floor. I cover my mouth in my panic and listen. I don't hear April's dad, so maybe he's still asleep. Slowly, I peek back over the edge of the bed, praying my eyes have deceived me. I swallow the vomit trying to come back up my throat as I see Casey Jones in April's bed, snoring loud enough to wake the deaf and the dead. He snores again. His breath reeks.

What the heck happened last night?!

Looking on the nightstand beside me, I see the remains of two joints, a few half-rolled pieces of paper, and my bag of weed. I look down and finally notice I'm wearing nothing but my bra and panties. "No…" Snatching the blanket from the bed, I wrap it around my body as I search the room for my clothes. "No, no, no, no, no…." I try to convince myself this isn't happening but the memories trickling back into my mind confirm that all of this happened and then some.

I find my jeans strewn across the back of April's desk chair and start doing a panicked hopping dance to put them back on as fast as I can. I let the blanket fall to the floor as I search for my shirt. "April is going to kill me. No. April's not going to kill me because she doesn't know and April will never know. But April won't care, right? She's totally sucking face with her BF…. she doesn't even like Casey…. shoot, I don't even like Casey." No amount of reasoning can justify why I spent the night with Casey Jones. I shudder. Even I have standards.

"Okay, Simone. Don't panic," I talk to myself trying to refocus my thoughts. "Covering for April is still the priority number one." I owe her that much after desecrating her bed. Taking a ruler from April's desk, I march over to the bed and poke Casey's arm. "Wake up!" I whisper as loudly as I can. "Casey! Get your scrawny little white butt up!"

"Oh…April…." He mutters as he hugs and drools on the pillow under his head. This only tees me off more and I bend the ruler back and smack his stomach until a red mark flushes across his skin.

Casey swears and I jump back as he swings at the air like a maniac. He stares at me owlishly, swearing louder this time, demanding to know what I'm doing here.

"Shut up!" I hiss at him.

"April. Simone. Are you girls awake?"

Casey does a repeat with the bugged eyes and I quickly smack my hand over his mouth. "Yep! Wide awake! ...Just… just getting dressed!"

"You two must have worn yourselves out yesterday. I could hear you sawing logs in there! Did you two make cookies last night?"

I laugh awkwardly at Mr. O'Neil's dad joke. Cookies? ... What cookies? ...I look at April's desk and notice a 'sugar cookies' scented candle. Great, I was smart enough to cover up the weed smell, but too dumb not to sleep with Casey Jones. "Uh, yeah, we did. Sorry, they were so good we forgot to save you some." Casey glares at me. I glare back daring him to try and speak, so I'll have a reason to punch him in the throat.

"Well, I'm making pancakes… the one thing I can cook that's edible. Don't spend too much time primping!"

"Sure thing, Mr. O!" When his footsteps leave the door, I sigh and release my hold over Casey's mouth.

"Get away from me!" He swats me away. "What happened?!"

"You can't hold your cannabis, that's what happened."

"What?"

"Weed, you idiot, weed!" I thump the side of my head in a 'no duh' fashion, our entire conversation taking place in agitated whispers.

"I know what cannabis is. I'm not stupid!"

"No, you're just a lightweight."

"Wait… I was… we were high last night?"

"OMG…. for the love of people with actual brains…. Yes! Yes, we were high!" Truth be told, I only remember bits and pieces from yesterday. After the arcade, we tagged some buildings, then we came back here to chill. We talked, we smoked, and…. everything's kind of hazy from there. A memory of Casey's fingers trailing my curves makes me shudder and want to vomit at the same time.

"Where's your shirt?" He stares at my pink bra or rather my breasts that bounce within it.

"If I knew where my shirt was do you think I would be looking for it right now? Stop staring at my rack and help me!" I stomp my foot with an unspoken threat.

"Sheesh… okay, okay. What're you on your period or—" He gasps pulling the sheet around his waist.

I sigh. "What is it now, Jones?"

"Where. Are. My. Pants?"

"Probably the same place my shirt is, now come help me look!"

"….I can't."

I stare at him as he shifts uncomfortably in the bed, holding on to that sheet for dear life.

Staring at him in disgust, I ask him slowly, "Where is your underwear?"

He's silent for a moment as his cheeks flare from dingy cream to crimson red in seconds. "I didn't wear any." The disgust on my face deepens like a permanent wrinkle. "I wore a jock strap!" he declares, as if this suddenly makes his decision to go commando in winter weather acceptable.

"God, you're an idiot." On my hands and knees, I reach under the bed, retrieve my shirt and tug it over my head.

"Well, you were in bed with me so that must make you an idiot too."

I freeze, holding one of my boots in my hand. "What do you remember?"

"Enough to know that you're wearing an orange thong." Okay, so Casey isn't the lightweight that I thought he was. "Did we?..."

"No!" I shout before dropping my voice again. "I mean… I don't know." Closing the gap between us, I shove my boot in his face until it's an inch away from his nose and he leans back with the intended fear I am trying to drill into his pea-sized brain. "If you breathe a word about this to anyone, I mean anyone, I will hunt you down like the trashy apartment rat that you are and kill you."

"Trust me. I don't want any bragging rights to a ratchet chick like you. I'd rather have my brain experimented on by the Kraang than tell anyone we hooked up." He sticks out his tongue with a cringe.

"Kraang? ...What are you even talking about? You know what? ...Whatever, I don't care. Just slip out through the fire escape. I'll handle Mr. O." I pull out April's desk drawer where I know she keeps extra scrunchies, grab one and messily pull my matted coils into a puff, fluffing it to look somewhat presentable.

Casey finds his black shirt under the sheets and snatches it over his head. "I can't! ...I don't have pants!"

"Girls! Pancakes are ready! Get them while they're hot!" April's dad yells from downstairs.

I growl in frustration. Where is April?! She was supposed to be here by 8 a.m.; it's freakin' 11 a.m.! I hope she got plenty of nookie last night 'cause her dad isn't going let her out the house again until she graduates from college if he finds out about this. "Just find your stupid pants and get out! I'll stall for time until I figure something out." I head for the door, ready to turn the knob, but pause and turn around.

"Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"April can never know what happened in here. We take it to the grave."

"To the grave."

On that noted vow of silence, I rush downstairs and slide in front of the kitchen bar.

"Mornin', Mr. O."

"Good morning, Simone. Did you have fun at the skate rink yesterday?"

I'm distracted by a thump from upstairs, but quickly recover before Mr. O'Neil takes notice. "Yeah… yeah! Loads of fun." I smile brightly.

"April," Mr. O shakes his head. "Takes that girl forever to get dressed. Her pancakes are going to be cold." He picks up April's stack of pancakes and turns toward the microwave. Something moves from the corner of my view. I do a double take when I see Casey tiptoeing in the hallway with a black beanie on his head and matching black shirt, and a jock strap on. My lips mouth the words 'Oh My God, what are you doing?!' as he shrugs helplessly at me. I shove him around the corner and out of sight. "I told you to go out the window! Why are you downstairs?!" I'm back to whispering angrily at him.

"It's 30 freakin' degrees outside and I still can't find my pants!"

"How the heck do you lose a freakin' pair of pants? You're an idiot!"

"Yeah? Well, you're a short, bossy little—"

"Why are there pants in the microwave?..."

Like deer in headlights Casey and I stare at Mr. O'Neil.

"Casey?! What are you doing here?" April's dad is about to blow a gasket, I just know it. I can practically hear Casey's knees knocking together over the internal screaming in my brain.

"Well, you see, Mr. O, it's kind of a funny story."

"I'm all ears." When I get in trouble I'm used to being yelled at or smacked, but this eerie calmness in Mr. O's voice and the neutral body language he's got going on are scaring the crap outta me right now.

"Casey peed his pants."

"I did not freakin' pee my pants!"

"Where's April?" I look at Casey. He should have stuck with my pee pants story. You're on your own now, bud. I continue to search my brain for a believable lie.

"She isn't here….this has nothing to do with Simone. It's my fault."

"Huh?" This is totally my fault. I encouraged April to sneak out; I brought the weed; and I'm pretty sure I put those pants in the microwave. Casey and Mr. O share a look that seems to hold a secret nobody told me about, before Mr. O finally look at me again.

"Simone, I suggest you go home now."

That's it? I thought for sure I was in major trouble for the stunt I tried to pull. Who knew honesty was the best policy? Never one to question a free pass on punishment, I give toothy smile and step backward toward the front door.

"And I will be having a word with your mother about your use of recreational drugs in my home." He says while leaning in to sniff at me.

My shoulders slump as I grab my coat and bag.

Ugh. I hate my life. As I close the door behind me, I quickly thumb a text message to April:

Gig's up, ur screwed. Sry….it wuz Casey's fault

TBC...

A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this small bit of comedy before the oncoming storm! It's always a blast writing Simone. She such a sassy little pistol, lol. Looks like Casey's got some explaining to do...stay tuned for upcoming chapters! Thank you all for your continued support . If you like what you're reading, let me know and leave a review! Thanks for reading!

See you next chapter!

Poetique