Thank you all for reviewing, and, yes, of course Susannah is still a virgin, that's just her imaginary baby, the one she made up as an excuse in order to find out the owner of the hairs. Anyway, happy reading. MAKE SURE TO REVIEW.
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I knew I should have taken the hair sample to a different hospital. WHY am I so incredibly STUPID? Jesse was all like, "Well, what did you think, Susannah? Of course I work at the lab portion of the hospital." OF COURSE, as well as working at the hospital, Jesse works at the lab. What kind of idiot doesn't consider such a thing? Oh, I know. Me.
He said he was really surprised when he saw that it was my name that was written on the little paper that I gave in with the hair sample.
He also said he knows that I don't want anyone else finding out about my pregnancy and tried to convince me to tell my parents. He said that I had nothing to be ashamed of, though I shouldn't be having babies with people I don't know. Well, he didn't really say it like that. It was more like, "Susannah, what were you thinking, getting drunk like that? Didn't you even bother to think of the consequences?"
I was so mortified that all I could do was nod my head.
"I'm expecting you to follow the sheet of paper I gave you," Jesse says sternly. I nod. I so was not expecting this. This is horrible. It's even worse than having people point at you because they see having a conversation with a bush. At least you'll never see them again. But Jesse, well, I still have months' of dance lessons with him.
I want to jump out the window, but, before I follow up on that thought, Jesse, looking at his watch, says, "Yeah…uh…I better get going." Then, getting up, he looks over at me and goes "and…uh…if you need anything you…you just…you can tell me."
After stupidly nodding my head, he leaves.
Oh, what am I going to do? Crap crappidy crap crap. Hit head with fist. I am such a moron.
I: should not have taken hair samples to same hospital Jesse works at (Big Mistake).
Because: very likely he will see it and think, what he obviously already thinks, that I'm pregnant.
Well? And why wouldn't he think I'm pregnant? I did kind of request a paternity test to find out the identity of the father of my imaginary baby. He has no idea about the actual reason I needed those tests done. Oh, and I'm not exactly planning on telling him. This is bad. This is really bad. I mean, since I'm not pregnant, I'm not actually going to show, right? Then he'll suspect something and somehow find out I lied, then he'll want to know why, and what will I do then?
WHAT IF HE TELLS THE HOSPITAL THAT I LIED?
That would be even worse. I might get into jail for conspiracy, or something. Should I just pretend to be pregnant and get one of those I-want-to-fake-my-pregnancy pads?
Oh, how did this HAPPEN? Everything was going so great.
I start eating junk food when Dana comes in. She's really hesitant, I guess she wants to make sure I don't have anyone else over.
"Listen, Suze, I'm really sorry for barging in on you like that, I didn't know---"
"It's fine, we weren't doing anything," I say. She shakes her head.
"Suze, it's all right, you don't have to lie to me, I'll just be more careful next time," she says. As she sits down on the couch and grabs a bag of potato chips, she, changing the subject, goes, "Oh, guess what?"
"What?" I say, semi-amused. She flips her glossy red hair in a futile attempt get it out of her eyes.
"Guess," she says, her green eyes wide with delight.
"You got a life?" I ask her dryly. She rolls her eyes at me.
"No, Mr. Schwartzberg, my Biology professor, asked me and two other students, out of the whole class, to participate in a biology contest where we get to use gel electrophoresis to input someone's DNA…after that we're supposed to use a bacteria culture to make…and whichever school does the best job wins…isn't that great?" she says.
"Yeah, wonderful," I say, staring blankly at the couch. It has a really pretty pattern, with roses and daisies spread out evenly across a light blue background.
This is really not the right time to think about how pretty the couch pattern is. My life is SO over.
"So, how's the contest going?" she asks me.
"It's really great," I reply in monotone.
Like, SO over. Like, I-will-not-live-to-see-the-birth-of-my-imaginary-baby over.
"Need any help?" She inquires excitedly.
"Yeah, especially with receiving 90 plus averages," I say. "That isn't going to happen any day soon." Especially since I have a major essay to do for Mr. Borcowitz, which is due next month. It's about the major influences society has on individual people.
For someone who teaches sociology, Mr. Borcowitz isn't very social, or nice for that matter, so I doubt I'm going to get a very decent mark on it. Especially since he hates me more than he does his teaching career.
So, not only do I have an essay to write, but now I also have a PREGNANCY to fake. Go me.
"Suze, are you okay?" Dana asks me, a worried look on her face.
"Ya, sure, don't I look okay?" I say.
"Well, you're kind of eating the remote," she says.
"Oh, sorry," I say. What's wrong with me? I must have gone totally whacko to mistake the remote for the potato chips.
Mental Note: Get special pregnancy pads.
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Monday, bah. Don't want to get up. I remember yesterday, feel depressed, and flip over to the other side like an egg on a frying pan.
I had a pretty I-don't-know-what-to-call-it dream. It went like this: After I was done looking at myself in the mirror---I had on a Gucci dress and was holding a Louis Vuitton handbag---I went over to the door. So, there I am, walking out the door, when, guess who approaches me? It's none other than Kelly Prescott. When she sees me she grabs my handbag going, "thanks for holding it," in this snotty kind of way and proceeds to go down the stairs. She turns around to look up at me from the second floor landing (I'm standing on the third floor) and goes, "well, aren't you coming?" to which I respond by following her down the stairs. The end.
I wonder why I was at her house in the first place, or, an even better question is, why I dreamt about her out of all people?
I have very peculiar dreams.
But, now that I think about it, I don't really have that many dreams. That's weird. I should ask Jesse about it, maybe it's the result of the hormonal changes I've been experiencing due to my non-existent pregnancy. I laugh hysterically. I'm so pathetic.
I get up to go to English.
Today, Mrs. Johnson gives us a lecture about how to structure our essays in a logical manner. She says something about not putting your conclusion up at the beginning. Most of the kids laugh. A few kids look a bit unnerved, as though they didn't know they weren't supposed to do that. She says that that is something we all learned in kindergarten, but she's sure that we can now move on ahead to more complex logical arrangements.
All I could think about for the whole entire class was how Mrs. Johnson knew what we learned in kindergarten.
And, of course, what to do about me and my fake pregnancy.
Mr. B was quite amicable today, he only yelled at me twice, which I take to be a good sign. He told me that, "the influence of parents on their children from a young age is due to the child's emotional and corporeal attachment to their caregivers, but, as they mature, metacognition, which allows individual thinking, allows independency and influence by those outside of their near family," was very poorly stated and lacked preliminary background information.
Hey, it's his fault he called on me. If he doesn't like how I answer, then why bother asking?
After class, I head back to my dorm.
As I open the door, I see Dana sitting on the couch, working on something school related.
"Hi," she says distractedly. "Busy, can't talk."
After her vague response, I head over to the refrigerator and grab and big box of ice cream, completely ignoring Jesse's pregnancy list, and start binge ice cream eating.
I feel a lot better. Sugar has a real calming effect, well, before it's oxidized and you become real hyper.
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"So," Jesse says, looking me squarely in the eye. "Are you keeping to my list?"
"Uh, of course," I say, flustered, remembering my ice cream binge. "It's great…uh…real helpful."
Jesse smiles and my heart does a little cartwheel. God, why does it do that?
Well, I guess it might be because I feel kind of bad for lying to him and all, you know, since he's trying to help out with the baby he thinks I'm going to have, but I have no choice.
"Guys! No talkin', dis a dance lesson, you focus on dance, no moving mouth," Boris yells over at us. He's such an ogre, it's not like I don't have enough on my back right now---the wood including---I don't need him yelling at me too. I guess Jesse realizes this, my not needing any shit from Boris, because what he says next (in whisper mode) is a shocker.
In mock imitation of Boris: "This a dance lesson, focus on dance, mouth is no for moving, but to kiss the behind. I gladly do."
After Jesse said that I couldn't help but laugh. I totally did not expect that from I'm-always-so-totally-serious Jesse.
I continue his imitation with:
"Of course, I do not want to brag, is a real skill, must do properly."
We both burst out laughing. Boris gives us a deadly stare and we stop. When he turns to face the other way we start laughing again.
After that, whenever Boris isn't looking, instead of dancing what we're supposed to, we make a little mock dance, so that our cha-cha becomes, like, a slow-cha and we dance around like dumb giants. I almost die from laughing so hard.
When dance class is over we head to Jesse's car. Jesse is all nice and he opens the door for me, asking me if I need anything, and I suddenly remember that I'm supposed to be afraid of him.
I am such an idiot. I was like totally fraternizing with the enemy.
Seriously, what is wrong with me, do I have forgetful syndrome? There's no other way to explain it, really.
I revert back to my I-don't-like-Jesse state and sit mutely while Jesse starts talking to me about a fire victim he had had in the hospital a few days ago. He said that she was at her graduation party when the fire started. She didn't make it past the night. Many of the students attending the party suffered minor injuries, while some of the others weren't quite so lucky, attaining anything from second to third degree burns.
I said it would suck for something like that to happen on your graduation.
"Yeah, they were off to go start their lives, but now some of theirs are over. I mean, if they were lucky enough to remain alive, they're still pretty shaken from all the trauma," Jesse says somberly, "you can never really go back to feeling the same way, can you?"
"I guess not," I say. Then, after a long pause, I continue with, "doesn't it make you feel depressed to see people suffering like that everyday?"
"Yes, but when I know that I am helping to save their lives, that I'm making a difference, then none of that really matters," he says, "I can't feel depressed when I am helping them get better."
How can I possibly hate him after that? Huh? Tell me.
I stare at him until he turns my way, addressing me with a questioning, "What," and giving me a very dirty look.
"Nothing," I say, turning away. He focuses his attention back on the road.
A few seconds later he says, "We're here."
"Huh?" I say, springing back to reality. I was deeply engrossed in a fluffy gray cloud that looked like Mr. Borcowitz. It was giving me an evil stare.
"We have arrived," Jesse says, real slowly, "at our dorms."
"Oh," I say, feeling really stupid, "Of course." I get up out of the car and both of us trudge up the dorm steps and into the building.
Jesse walks me up to my dorm, which I think is very nice of him since he has to go all the way back down again. As I'm about to open the door he gives me a really strange look, then comes up real close to me and touches my right cheek. He moves some of my hair out of the way and examines me. My heart stops beating. My cheek, where he is touching it, starts to burn. I cannot breathe. I am completely paralyzed.
He nears his face to mine and I think: Is he going to kiss me? Because, you know, that would be kind of peculiar, since he's my enemy and all. I could turn my head away, but there's also the fact that I wouldn't really mind if he did. Kiss me, I mean, even if he is my enemy. And really, how unsporting would it be of me if I turn my head away?
Instead of kissing me though, all he did was say, "Susannah, how did you get that bruise on the side of your forehead?"
"Oh," I say, turning the same shade of red as Dana's hair, "I…fell," is all I manage to say. I think I might have gotten that when I hit the door, on, like, the second or third day of school. It was kind of Jesse's fault, too, because I was paying to much attention on him and not enough on where I was going. Although, come to think of it, that was quite a long time ago, and the bruise should have disappeared by now.
"How did you manage to fall like that?" Jesse says, an amused expression on his face.
"I fell off off my bed," I say questioningly. I don't know, what else was I supposed to say?
"May I ask why," he says. He can never leave anything alone, can he? What if I wanted to fall off my bed, how's it any of his business? But I didn't say that, all I said was:
"Oh, it was really stupid, not worth discussing, really."
"I see," he says.
"I won't do it again, I promise," I say. Jesse gives off a little laugh.
After a few seconds he says, "Yeah…I…better get going," and fixes me with a penetrating look.
"Right," I say, "I'll see you later then."
When Jesse leaves I head off to feed my fish.
Oh, guess what? This day finalizes my fish-and-paper punishment, that is, if Mr. B. doesn't aspire to assign me another week. I think I'll kind of miss them. The fish, I mean. They're all really quiet and they're always happy to see me, not at all like humans, whose hourly talking, if it had any electrical potential, could provide the U.S. with electricity for a few hundred years. And, humans are never veryhappy to see me. It's kind of sad, really.
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Half of today's dance class went by in the same fashion as it did yesterday: Jesse and me making fun of Boris, us laughing, Boris getting annoyed.
I kind of thought that Jesse took this whole contest thing really seriously, but, him slacking off, well, it really makes no sense.
I told him we better start behaving ourselves because we needed our performance at the end of the content to be superb. After that, the lesson went kind of like it usually does. I guess Jesse kind of forgot why we were here in the first place and I kind of reminded him, which I kind of regret now because he went back to being his old Jesse self.
For being my almost worst enemy, Jesse can be really nice. He made Boris stop forcing me to wear the wood thingy, which I really appreciate because soon it would've broken me in half.
And, as we're attempting to dance, Jesse goes, "Susannah, are you sure you're up to four dance lessons a week, you know, if---"
And I go, "of course I am," because I couldn't very well jeopardize our chances at winning, also especially since I'm not even really pregnant. "Don't worry about me," I say, which I think kind of pointless to say because I doubt that that will really convince him not to worry about me.
Also, I'm getting a lot better with my dancing. Boris told me that now, instead of dancing like a duck, I dance more like dead tuna, which I guess is better than a duck, right?
Boris told Jesse that his dancing was really good, though he didn't appoint him any names of creatures that his dancing resembles, like he kind of does for me.
After class I told Jesse that, instead of him going up to my dorm, I was going to go up to his, as a sort of non-mean payback. He told me I would do no such thing. I argued. After a long battle, I won the war. Tee hee.
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Thursday. Not worth talking about.
Mr. Bright was extra cheery today.
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Today Boris was very mean to me. He told me I look like a duck again, so no more dead tuna progress. Jesse told me not to worry about it, because I'm doing really well. Even though he seemed to be sincere, it didn't make me feel any better. I knew I was dragging him down, minimizing his, and mine, chances of winning.
He told Boris that we should focus only on my dancing today. So, the entire class was spent on helping me develop dance techniques. It was really kind of helpful, since Boris told me I was getting better: "you look like dead tuna."
By the end, I had progressed all the way to becoming a "bendable ruler."
I am so glad for Jesse's suggestion. I really improved.
As we're driving back to our dorms, Jesse asks me if I'm busy tomorrow. I tell him that I'm going out, ---it's my date with Josh---and, since Josh called me a little earlier today and told me we'd be going to the Bangkok Gardens Restaurant, I told Jesse that that's where I'm going. He asks me if I'm going alone. I say no, I'm going with a friend.
Then we stop talking because we arrive at our dorms.
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Today is my date. Finally. Gabrielle told me that no one has died yet, which is good.
My goal for today is to find out everything I possibly can about Josh, so I'll need to ask him a whole lot of questions. I also must find any speck of evidence that might potentially help me to identify him as Gabrielle's murderer, which means, clearly speaking, that I must snoop around in his wallet and stuff.
So, as I'm thinking about all the stuff I'm going to ask Josh, I begin putting together my ensemble. I put on my silky red Michael Kors dress, which kind of resembles the one that Alicia Silverstone wore in Clueless, with matching red high-heel sandals. I put on light-pink eye shadow, and then I sort of curl my hair. It looks really nice, with my hair in these soft little tendrils. Yeah, anyway, however good I may look, ha ha ha, it's almost seven, so I better get going.
As soon as I exit the lobby, Josh gets out of his car and walks up to where I'm standing. He stretches my arm out towards his face and kisses my hand---which is really peculiar, but kind of nice I guess---and ushers me to his car, which he opens so that I can get in. Very gentlemanly, I must say, for a killer.
So, as we're driving along, I happen to mention that old banquet hall---I told him its location, so that he knew specifically which one I was talking about---I went to with Gabrielle. I told him how I thought they should tear it down because no one uses it anyway, and he, completely calm, told me that it must have some historical value, and that he's glad they didn't tear it apart because breaking down old buildings causes the destruction of history.
I totally expected a different reaction, like, one of surprise, or, maybe one of agreement, since all the evidence of his murder resides in that hall. But then, maybe it's just an act, maybe he's pretending like he doesn't care. Whatever it is, I was so dumfounded that I didn't speak another word during the entire car ride.
When we arrive, Josh gets out of the car and opens the passenger-side door for me. He asks me how I like the place, and, when I actually take a look at it, well, let's just say that even in a million years I would never be able to afford to eat at a place like this. I don't say that to Josh, though, I just say that I think it's very nice. This restaurant, Bangkok Gardens or whatever, obviously has a garden, but it is also situated on the edge of a lake, which gives it a kind of fantasy setting.
Inside the restaurant, the lobby has these really nice marble floors and there's a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There are also, like, five waiters waiting on you at the same time, one taking your coat, another taking you to you seat, another giving you your menu, and so on and so forth. And, it also has live music, by that I mean like, a lady playing on the piano or something, nothing like The Killers concert or anything.
We get seated outside, by the lake.
I could really get used to this, this Josh-taking-me-out-to-really-nice-expensive-restaurants thing, with the whole killing-people thing thrown aside.
Josh told me I looked nice. But then, he might tell Dopey he looked nice if only to strike conversation with him and create the perfect opportunity needed to kill him.
Anyway, as Josh starts talking, I notice someone familiar coming towards me, but then, since he's wearing a uniform, I figure that it's just another waiter. He's probably coming to get my order, and, since I already know what I'm having, I say:
"I'll have the…uh…poulet avec pain please"---this restaurant is sort of French, and, since I didn't really pay that much attention in French during my high school years, I decide to get the food of which names I can actually understand the meaning so that I don't order anything unusual, like snails---but then, to my utter horror, when I look up to see if he got my order, I don't see a waiter, I see Jesse.
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A/N: Hope you liked it. Please REVIEW.