A/N Thanks for all the positive response! I know this hasn't quite got the plot of my previous stories, but I'm trying to make it work...
Check out my new story: The Stroke of Midnight. Yes, I know, another WIP. But I think it's going places.
Also, the Simon Says forum. Voting ends soon, so hurry up if you haven't already voted!
TODAY'S HEADLINE: ROCK AND ROLL!
De Silva's girl sports a new gothic hairstyle
Chapter Seven
Misunderstanding
"Oh my God! Suze, I am going to so freaking kill you!"
As usual, my sister makes a melodramatic entrance by slamming the front door behind her, and stomping into the kitchen, where she removes her beanie hat and throws it at me indignantly. I catch it, trying not to grin at her furious expression. I put the hat down on the table and turn back to the cereal I had been eating.
"Something wrong, dear sister?" I ask, chewing thoughtfully. She throws herself into the seat next to me, glaring. I glance at her newly dark hair which she pets defensively, before exploding, causing me to jump and drop my spoon with a clatter.
"Yes, there's something wrong!" she screams, gesturing towards the hat. "Thanks to your little trick, I now have photographers chasing me everywhere, asking what the hell I did to my hair!" I snort, but don't meet her eyes. "They want to know what Hector thinks. And do you know what Hector thinks?"
"I was surprised he even noticed," I remark, dryly. Anna ignores this, and continues with her tirade.
"He thinks I'm in a band! That I'm a band geek, and he keeps asking me where I hide my guitar pick, and why I won't ever let him see me rehearse!" Anna sighs dramatically. "He says only band geeks and Goths dye their hair black, and seeing as I never wear any black – besides my underwear, of course-" I suppress a gag. "-he has come to the conclusion that I am in a band. Are you happy?"
"Immensely," I reply, trying hard to remove the image of Anna patiently explaining to our modern-day caveman Hector that she does not belong to a band of any kind. My sister detests all cliques that don't shop at Victoria's Secret and have a higher quantity of foundation slathered on their cheeks than brain cells to use in Chemistry.
To my surprise, Hector walks in, his hand delving into a bag of Doritos. "Yeah," he contributes a little late. "All band geeks have black hair, don't they?"
"No," I answer shortly, finishing my cereal and placing my bowl by the sink. I pat him on the shoulder, my heart fluttering at the contact. "I'm afraid it's only like that in the movies, Hector." I smile gently. I blush, realising that I still haven't removed my hand from his shoulder. Anna frowns, and changes the subject hastily.
"So," she says, coolly. "Is Jesse De Dorkus tutoring you tonight?" I glance at the calendar and nod, before pouring myself a glass of water and sipping it.
"Yes," I respond. "But maybe you ought to think twice about what you call him. Have you forgotten that his cousin is standing right there?" Hector shrugs, and plucks another Dorito from the packet.
"My cousin has different interests to me," he explains, stating the obvious. "I guess he is kind of a geek. Math and stuff isn't exactly what you'd class as cool, right?" He looks to me for support. "Or is that just in the movies?"
"Hector had a private tutor," Anna informs me, with a smile. I notice that she's purposefully slipped an arm around his waist and is holding him close to her. Part of me suddenly feels violently ill.
"I know," I say, privately remembering all the biographies I have read about him – including the one of his official website. But I don't mention this to either my sister or Hector himself. "And no, I guess math isn't cool. But if it helps me graduate, then that's fine by me." Anna sniffs at my final comment, and then pulls Hector in for a kiss right in front of me. I try not to notice, and push my way past her, the pain in my heart stinging a little.
But not as much as it used to.
"You know," I say, putting down my pencil and smiling at Jesse. "I think I've finally got it." I push my workings towards him to mark, and he draws an elaborate smiley face next to my correct answer. We'd been working at simultaneous equations for over an hour, but after three weeks of tutoring, I'd managed to get a consecutive three questions right.
"Well done," Jesse praises, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his soda. "I'm very proud of you." I grin, and stare down at the smiley face he had drawn me. It had long hair, and curled eyelashes. It looked a little like it was meant to be me.
"Thank-you," I reply, turning pink. "It's all down to you that I even began to understand it." Jesse waves my comment away with a dismissive hand.
"It is not the tutor that completes the question," he says, wisely. I laugh, and get him another soda, sitting down with my own. He pulls the pencil that I am about to pick up again away, and I look at him quizzically. "It's time for a break," he announces, and I look doubtful. "Or else your brain will get overtired."
"But Jesse," I complain. "I've just started to get it. If we stop now then I'll be back to square one." He shakes his head, disagreeing. He stands up, and walks across the kitchen to turn the music on. It's a slow song, and I'm suddenly aware that Jesse and I are alone in the house. Anna is out – no doubt partying with Kelly or Debbie.
"Do you dance?" Jesse asks me. I shake my head, furiously, and he laughs. He takes a few steps towards me, and holds out his hand. I refuse to take it. "Querida," he says, amused. "I can teach you. It's not as hard as you think, you know." I stare at his hand like I am afraid of it. Eventually, Jesse reaches down to force my hand in his, and pulls me out of my chair, as the first chorus begins.
He places my left hand on his shoulder and my right in his left, whilst his right is securely resting on my hip. Our bodies are close, and I can feel his warm breath on my bare shoulder. I'm afraid of saying anything that will mortify me, but in the end I can't bear the silence between us.
"It's a nice song," I muse. Jesse nods, before twirling me around. I watch our reflection in the glass window opposite, before falling backwards and Jesse dips me. It seems like he was right – dancing is easy. Especially if you have someone like him leading you.
The song slowly finishes, and as Jesse deals me one last twirl I trip and lose my balance, finding it again as I press both hands against his chest and lean against him. I look up at him apologetically, before losing myself in the dark pools that stare back at me, just as confused.
"Sorry-" I begin to mutter, but I can't finish. Linking his fingers with mine, his mouth nears mine, and my lids begin to droop… before I'm nudged backwards so that I'm standing on my own two feet again and not leaning on Jesse. My eyes snap open to see Jesse detaching his hands from mine and walking back towards the table to collect his things.
"I should probably go," he announces, his voice a little less confident than usual. "It's getting a little late." I look at the clock and see that it says that it's only seven-fifteen, but I don't mention it. I don't think my brain has fully recovered.
"O.K," I murmur, but he's already out of the room. I hear a faint thud as the front door closes, and sit down to drink my soda again. I pick up my notepad and look at the little smiling caricature Jesse drew. I'm almost definitely sure it's me.
A key slides into the lock of the front door, but I don't bother moving. It could be Mom – though it's more likely to be Anna, as my mom has told us she is working late this week – and so I assume it's nobody I need to worry about. Until, that is, I hear a masculine mutter of "Aw, shit." I'm up and out of my seat in seconds and searching the kitchen for a weapon to defend myself.
"You'd better get out of here!" I yell, trying to choose between a rolling pin and a kitchen knife. "I don't know how you got a key, but I got a weapon…" I seize the knife and make towards the kitchen doorway with it before Hector fills the frame and squints at me.
"Anne?" he asks, his breath blowing into my face. I nearly throw up in my mouth – he smells of booze so badly that it's suddenly all I can smell. And by the way that he is trying to hug me, it looks like he is extremely drunk. "Anne? Anna?" Oh, great. He thinks I'm my sister.
"Hector," I say, sternly, dropping the knife onto the kitchen surface. "When did you get a key? And why are you drunk at seven-fifteen at night?" He doesn't answer me, and instead grabs me by the wrist and starts to pull. "Hey, let go. Anna will be here in a minute, and she'll drive you home. I haven't even got my permit yet. Hello? Let go!"
Hector's grip on my wrist only tightens. The phone rings and I move to answer it, but he pulls me straight past it. I try to pull myself out of his vice-like hold, but he doesn't seem deterred. The answer machine clicks on, and Paul Slater's voice fills the hallway.
"Hey, I'm calling for Anna Simon? It would really great if she or her sister could come down to the office and give us an interview. Vedette magazine is really desperate for you to be our main cover story!" I scowl, and manage to reach over to delete it, before I'm yanked out the doorway.
"Hector, where are we going?" I ask. Hector greets me with a drunken smile.
"Anne, I need to get out," he pleads. "Just wanna spend time with my girl, O.K?" I look in horror to see paparazzi waiting at the bottom of my driveway, getting ready with their cameras to capture the latest in Hector's love life. Hector still hasn't noticed that I'm not Anna – despite the fact that I clearly don't have black/blue hair.
"But I'm not-" I try to protest, but my cry is drowned out by the yells of the paparazzi.
"Who's this, Hector? You cheating on your girl already?" Hector turns to me with a confused look, which I just roll my eyes at. The photographers begin to close around us in a circle, their shouts louder than ever. "Give her a smooch! A great smacker, right on the lips!" He grabs hold of my other hand, so that I am facing him. I make a face, trying to pull away.
"No, Hector," I say. "You really don't want to do this-"
But my desperate argument is cut short as he presses his lips firmly to mine.