"Oh no! Gosh, Tom. I'm so sorry, I have to go! Hold that thought until tonight though! I'll see you at five? Okay! Bye!" And without waiting for an answer, she sprinted away with Madeline leaving a very hurt and very frustrated Tom standing in the hallway.
Tom sat at home, staring at the red numbers of his Mickey Mouse alarm clock he had had since he was six. 4:38:59 PM. 4:39:01 PM.
This was getting ridiculous. What in the world was he to do? What was he going to tell Charlotte? 4:42:16 PM.
He knew a way. It wasn't going to be pretty, but he knew a way. He had to do it fast. He had to do it now.
He slipped on his tennis shoes and closed the door, locking it, and leaning against it to survey his room. He slid a CD (his favorite one that he listened to all the time: Boys Like Girls) into his player, waiting for the first song to start. It started and he turned it up extremely loud. Jim wouldn't care. It was the normal thing that Tom did. He supposed he had about an hour before the CD ended. He locked his door and tiptoed over to the window, even though he needn't be so quit because the CD was drowning out all noise. He opened his window and felt the cool air of Scranton on his pale face. He pushed the window up to as far as it would go and silently removed the screen. Then, turning around and slipping into his warm jacket, he sidled out the window and into the bushes that surrounded his first story bedroom.
That's right, Halpert. Stealth. Agility.
Leaving the winder ajar, he sprinted away from his house, looking over at it every couple seconds to see if Jim had noticed. He ran down the block and turned the corner, sprinting still.
Charlotte was in her room from the soccer team tryouts. She had always loved her room. It was light pink with a four poster white bed and a canopy on it. The quilt was patchwork and posters of her favorite television shows, books and movies littered the walls. (Harry Potter posters, Gilmore girl posters, soccer stars, and the Twilight book cover that she took from the book were hanging in every corner of her room, along with her first pair of pointe shoes). Pam knocked on her door quietly and then came in.
"Hey, sweetpea. How'd soccer go?"
"Eh. I could've done better. Not my best today. But still, I think I made the team!" Charlotte said the last couple words higher, in a more excited voice and jumped up and down. Pam took her hands and jumped too, squealing in delight.
After they both calmed down, Charlotte thought this was the best time to ask her mother. "Hey mom? Can I go to a smoothie place this afternoon? One of my friends from school is going to show me around."
"Well, how soon is it? And who is it with?"
"Um, fifteen minutes, and with a boy named Tom. He's really nice," Charlotte smiled, blushing and looking down.
Pam's eyes widened. "Well, sure. I mean, it's too late to cancel now, I guess," she recomposed herself. "Yeah, go and have fun."
"Thanks, mom." After a quick peck on the cheek, she shooed her mom out of her room so she could get changed. She picked out her favorite fall outfit: jeans, a black tank top, and a dark brown blazer. She brushed her hair frantically, peeking at the clock every minute. 4:56:43 PM. She had a whole four minutes to perfect her look. She packed her purse and sat on the bed, waiting. 5:00:36 PM. He was late. Just by a little.
She walked over to the window and looked down. No sign of a car. Walking inside, Charlotte sighed and got out a book, just in case. 5:03:58 PM. She put on her silver watch and walked out to the balcony with her new book. She sat down on her iron-made petite chair, opened the book to the page and took out the bookmark. 5:11:13 PM. He was very late. Eleven minutes! Charlotte started to get angry with him. She took one last look at the street before turning her back to the outside and opening the doors to her bedroom.
"Wait! Charlotte!" A voice rang throughout the street and Charlotte spun around.
A disheveled and panting Tom was rounding the street corner. She looked out at him and grinned.
"Where's the hot rod?" she teased.
"Left it at home with the Porsche I was going to bring. Right next to the Ferrari and Austin Healy." She laughed, making Tom's ears ring with joy. His kind of laugh. He got the the bottom of her balcony, looking up. He glanced at the vines, hugging the white boards that led up the her room on the second story.
"Um," he panted again. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."
She giggled again. "Why don't I just let you through the front door?"
"Because it's a lot more fun this way. You can shimmy down the vines and we can be on our merry way," Tom said, as if it were obvious.
She turned the knob to her door and stuck her head through. "Mom!" she yelled. "I'm going out, I'll be back in a bit. I have my cell phone!" She turned her head towards Tom again. "Parent taken care of. Let's go!" She secured her purse against her shoulder and put one leg over the balcony railing, then the other. She grabbed the vines and shimmed down the wall.
"Smooth, Beesly. Like always," Tom complimented.
"Thanks, Halpert."
Tom put his hand on the small of her back and walked with her to the Smoothie Shack.
Okay, I know, another uneventful chapter. He snuck out! Bad Tom. By the way, all those things on Charlotte's walls reflect what I like and enjoy. Except soccer, because I can't play soccer to save my life. I do do pointe though. And I like BLG, like Tom.
