Dear Isabeau
Guess what? I. Am. Back! From the dead…! (But not really.)
My undying thanks to RedJaybird for adding Dear Isabeau, to their Favorite Stories List and their Story Alert subscription.
To John Morison Invades TDI: First off, nice username. Second off, thanks. :)
To Athulis: Once again, I must thank your generosity. And there is a greater chance of a whale eating, say, Pres Obama, than a meteor hitting anytime soon. But I appreciate your concern. :D
I do not own Total Drama Island, or Total Drama Action, or any of the characters. I also do not own McDonald's. I do own this story, Jet, Whitney, and Drama Deliver.
Okay, I'll be the first to admit, I cannot for the life of me do a Canadian accent like the Ezekiel on TDI and TDA, or even like Necro can. So, excuse me if Ezekiel doesn't match the Canadian accented teen on TDI. Eh.
Chapter 3: Chicken Nuggets
The first rays of the morning sun illuminated the brunette boy's room unlike any lamp could. The light snuck its way into every crevice of his bedroom, lighting up the furthest corners and darkest shadows. The boy didn't notice; he was too busy dreaming, or should I say, remembering the incident, his Incident. It was colored betrayal, with hints of anger and lies mixed in. The Incident changed his life, changed his father's. It was a lesson taught; unfortunately, it was the wrong lesson. The brunette boy would live for the next six years believing what his father told him: that it was his job, being the male that he is, to care for the women because they are too weak and daft to know what the right thing is, that women need looking after, that they would easily flitter from one male to another, if only because they're too slow, too daft, to know not too. Ezekiel, however, soon learned that his father was wrong. He was brought jarringly to reality, to the truth, and he hasn't trusted his father since. Ezekiel always wondered: how could one mistake, one insignificant detail, change his life so much? He twisted and turned in discomfort, struggling to wake himself up before the inevitable end.
He remembered…
A young boy, no older than 10 years old, was running around a park, his wild brown hair blown every which way by the wind. A golden leaf, finally fallen from its tree as days before winter slowly dwindled down to a close, flutters down to the cool sidewalk underneath. The boy looked up from the furry green caterpillar he was examining to watch the leaf slowly drift this way, that way, spiraling down towards its death. He smiled, his teeth flashing in the sunlight, and jumped up. He quickly brushed off the dirt, grass, and twigs that stuck to his clothing. He then dashed off after the leaf, occasionally jumping up to try and grab it.
An article from a littered newspaper was carried across his path, and he stuttered to a halt. He picked up the paper, and started reading.
Nightmare on Elm Street
House after house lining Elm Street falls to mysterious fire.
(PAGE 3)
Sunday 4 – The rumors are true. Last Thursday, a house along Elm Street, owned by the Smiths, was burned down. When police investigate the crime, they discovered a bottle of gasoline, a match, and a dead body which was conformed not to be a Smith, but rather Randy Handles, a high school dropout that has been reportedly missing for the past three years. It is entirely possible that he has joined one of the many terrorist groups intent on fulfilling the threat promised by the head terrorist Alma Junín: "We shall destroy, brick by brick, house by house, town by town, city by city, nation by nation, this corrupted world that God has created for us."
This is not the first house to be burned to charred wood and fragments of blackened shingles, and if the terrorists keep to their promise, it will certainly not be the last. Six other families have been left houseless, and that's just on Elm Street. Police desperate to find solutions to these fires have discovered something that every burned down house had in common. We asked the Chief Policeman for more details.
"Well, as odd as it sounds, none of the houses burnt yet have had someone in them. It's entirely possible that the terrorists want the families to experience what it's like to be homeless, to have no place to call your own. But that is completely useless now, as the region has set up a safe house for these currently homeless families. Volunteer carpenters are rebuilding these families' houses as we speak, so the terrorists have had no lasting effects. Another strange pattern is that these families are of great importance to our government. Well, perhaps, it's not such a strange pattern. The first house to burn was our blessed governor's house. The second and third houses belonged to powerful school board members. Our representatives' houses were quick to follow. If this keeps up, soon everyone of importance will be crowded underneath one roof. A true terrorist's dream come true, and our own nightmare."
As you can see, this is much more serious that we originally thought, as – (CONTINUED ON PAGE 4: FIRE)
Ezekiel, who had missed most of the point due to the fact that he kept skipping over the longer words, still frowned none the less. He looked up, just in time to see his leaf flutter by. He dropped the newspaper like it was a hot iron and resumed his chase after the leaf.
Sitting on a nearby bench, Mr. Martin, the head of the school board and Ezekiel's father, opened up the Sunday news, puzzled over the two missing pages, and started reading the headlines. He turned the page, and just as he was about to start the stock market section, he glanced up. Ezekiel, to intent on his leaf to notice his surroundings, was unaware of the upcoming edge. If he fell, he would tumble head over heels down the hill for several minutes. Mr. Martin sighed in humor and exasperation and stood up. He stretched and started strolling down towards Ezekiel, his long legs easily overtaking the young boy's short ones.
The leaf fluttered down to within grasping range, and Ezekiel jumped, his hands closing over the crisp newly-fallen leaf. He laughed, and promptly started losing his balance. A pebble fell loose and skid down the hill. Ezekiel was about to follow, when, like a snake, his father's arm hooked around Ezekiel, preventing him from falling. Ezekiel just laughed and squirmed to get free.
Ezekiel, still clutching the leaf, raced over to grab the newspaper he had previously discarded. He picked it up and brought it back to his father, who quickly scanned the paper. As Mr. Martin neared the end, his face grew ever paler. Finally, he grabbed Ezekiel's hand and started pulling him towards their house.
"Father, eh, where are we going?"
"Not now, Ezekiel."
"But Father, where is Mother? Where is Candia?"
"She's at some café or another with her friends. Females need the support of one another and us, Ezekiel, to help them. And she's got Candia with her."
"Father, is that true? Because there's this one girl I see every now and then, Mai, eh, and she's very independent…"
Mr. Martin turned to stare at Ezekiel, without ever stop walking.
"Ezekiel, you are much too young to be talking with girls like that. I'm sure this Mai girl has many males helping her without your notice. Now come."
"But Father –"
"Didn't I tell you not to call me Father?"
"Well, yes Father."
"Was that supposed to be funny, son?"
"No, Father, eh."
"Ezekiel…" Mr. Martin trailed off. They had arrived at their house, 183 Elm Street.
Something crashed from inside, and both Mr. Martin and Ezekiel winced. Mr. Martin reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his keys, and inserted them into the lock. He twisted the keys and opened the door. The two people inside gasped.
Ezekiel's hands fell open with shock and the crushed leaf fluttered to the ground.
"Ow!"
Ezekiel, present day age, jerked upright and found himself sitting on the floor, wrapped up like a mummy in blankets. After a minute or two of struggling and a couple muttered words, Ezekiel escaped the sheets.
He looked at his nearby clock. It read 8:58 in the morning, later than he normally arrived, and the dawn sunlight was already streaming though his east window. He gasped and jumped up. Olivia, and the mail, came at 9:00 sharp, and if Ezekiel wanted to be there when the letter arrives…
"Wait….what letter, eh? I'm no'ot eager to find a letter, oot of all things, sitting in my mailbox. I'm just happy to, to see Olivia, eh." But no matter how much Ezekiel tried to deny it, he knew he wanted to check to see if there was a white envelope with his name on it.
Careful, as to not wake Father, Willa, or Candia, Ezekiel opened and shut the door. He crept down the hallway, silent as always, and slipped out of the house. He hesitated, shifting from foot to foot; at the gate that led from his driveway to the street, and ultimately the mailbox, strongly aware of how eerily similar this was to the morning he first mailed the letter.
Ezekiel shook his head, as if to remove thoughts about that day, and started walking towards the mailbox, head held high. He arrived there, checked the mailbox, and sighed in disappointment. Olivia hadn't come yet.
Ezekiel was debating on whether or not he should just return to the house and try again in five or ten minutes, or just wait, when speak of the devil, Olivia arrived.
She narrowed her eyes in, Ezekiel was happy to note, suspicion and curiosity, rather than the usual dislike.
"Are you, like, expecting something in the mail, Ezekiel? Because, just because you're famous doesn't mean you'll be getting millions of love notes every day."
Ezekiel frowned, but still asked, "Well, eh, if I doo'nt have millions of letters, I'll settle for one. Do I have any?"
Olivia rolled her eyes but looked at the letters she was holding. She pulled out one, a gray-green envelope with the words EZEKIEL MARTIN printed on the front in big letters and no return address. She handed it to Ezekiel, and continued looking. Eventually, she pulled out a second letter, this time a large manila folder (you know, those ones with the funny brass clip in the back that report cards sometimes come with. Ya, you know what I'm talking about) with Homeschool written on it, with Ezekiel's return address sticker underneath it. Olivia raised her eyebrows.
"Hmmm, Mr. Popular, now are you? Suddenly you have two actual letters, not just those spam insult letters you used to get."
"Speaking of which, Olivia, whatever happened to them, eh? They just stopped coming…"
"I've been stopping them for you." Olivia just rolled her eyes again as Ezekiel dropped his jaw. "Don't look at me like that. The post office said it would be the right thing to do, and I'm hoping for a promotion. Besides, well, some of them weren't very nice."
"Um…Well, thank you, eh, Olivia. That means a lot to me. But, maybe you could give me a few. I think I, eh, deserve, I guess, those letters. I mean, what I said was wrong."
Olivia shifted through her letters and grabbed about 13 different letters, all with different colored envelopes and different handwriting. Ezekiel again dropped his jaw, this time with negative disbelief instead of positive disbelief. He numbly accepted all of them.
"There, there, Ezekiel. It's okay. No need to worry. Mother Olivia will always be here for you…" Olivia trailed off. Ezekiel jerked at the word Mother and spilled all of his letters.
Olivia and Ezekiel reached down to pick them up. Olivia was scolding Ezekiel.
"Sheesh, Ezekiel! Sometimes you can be as clumsy as that Tyler guy. Speaking of which, is he still with Lindsay?" Olivia looked at Ezekiel again, but the hint just flew over his head.
"Um…I think he's still with her, but I don't really know those kinds of things…"
With all the letters picked up, they stood up and Olivia dusted herself off. She then handed Ezekiel two more letters and a magazine.
"For your parents, okay Ezekiel?"
Ezekiel nodded, and Olivia left. He went on his way back to his house, balancing the 13 complaints, his two letters, and his parents' two letters and magazine in an unbalanced tower. Somehow he made it back to his house with only minor spillage.
The door was already open, and Candia stood there. Ezekiel smiled over his pile letters, although it might have looked more like a grimace.
Candia Martin was Ezekiel's younger sister and looked more like Mrs. Martin than Ezekiel did. She and his mother both had chocolate-blonde hair and green eyes. Mr. Martin and Ezekiel were the brunettes of the family. She smiled and offered to hold some letters. He gave her the two letters for Mr. and Mrs. Martin and the magazine for them too.
"Hey Candy. What are you doing up so early, eh?"
"Ezek, eh, I could ask you the same thing."
"Well, I was getting the mail, as you can see."
"Yes, I see very well. I see you have, what, eh, 15 letters there all addressed to yourself? I'm betting they aren't love notes or well wishers."
"Funny enough, Olivia said the same thing."
"Olivia?" Candia suddenly perked up. They were close friends. "Oh! How's she doing? Is she still with Brad? How's her work? What did she say? I mean, has she forgiven you?"
"She's fine. I'm not sure, but I don't think so. She got a promotion. She was wondering if I was expecting millions of love notes. And, Candia, I'm not sure if anyone forgives me." With that last sentence, Ezekiel glanced towards the manila envelope with the word Homeschool written on it. He could easily read the return address's name: Izzy Winter. Ezekiel only knew one Izzy.
Candia correctly identified the look and smiled.
"Here, Ezek let me take these letters to Father and Willa. You can go and read those letters of yours. And if you need me to use my awesome ninja skills to hunt someone down, just ask."
Candia had also correctly identified most of those letters as being complaints.
Ezekiel muttered "Thanks" and walked back outside. Since Total Drama Island was over, Ezekiel still needed to get some fresh air. And both he and Candia would be glad to escape Mr. Martin's glances and Willa's outright glares.
Ezekiel followed a little used game trail around his house and about ten feet into the words. There he found his little hideout the same as he left it three days ago. It was formed by two trees naturally bending towards each other, and their branches enwinding to make a little overhead. Ezekiel has been adding blankets and books and personal stuff, like a tuff of his dead pet moose's fur. He settled down in the corner and began to read, starting with the complaints first.
Most were the usual "How-could-you-do-something-so-stupid-you-ignorant-homeschooled-Canadian-brat-you-deserve-to-be-put-in-a-happy-farm." But a few made Ezekiel wince. A fourteen year old girl named Karma wrote that, on her way home from the movies, she was attacked by her own parents. Her boyfriend just cowered, while Karma actually fought for her life. Her parents were insane and going to kill their only daughter. Karma had to kill them both. Her message was clear: The male just hid his own face while the female defended their lives. He threw the complaints into a corner of his hideout.
Ezekiel, after struggling through those letters, opened up the gray-green letter. He gasped.
Dear EZEKIEL MARTIN,
We at Total Drama Agency are pleased to inform you, EZEKIEL MARTIN, about an upcoming reunion located the Camp Wawanakwa, the site of Total Drama Island. A boat will be leaving in two weeks to take you to Camp Wawanakwa, EZEKIEL MARTIN.
-Total Drama Agency-
Ezekiel scowled.
"I. Will. Not. Go. Back," he muttered, tearing up the letter into little pieces.
He then looked over towards the other letter for him, the manila folder with the word Homeschool written across it. He smiled; he had a pretty good idea who this letter was from.
Ezekiel opened the folder and pulled out a magazine, Drama Deliver, and a letter. He read the letter, which was in fact, from Isabeau.
He didn't know how to respond. She seemed just like the Izzy from Total Drama Island, jumping from one topic to the next, but something seemed off. She was the same wild girl, but…
He frowned at the mention of the reunion, but he was happy that Izzy would be there too. That's when he remembered the magazine. He opened it up and flipped towards the section about Total Drama Island. He was angry, of course, but not as angry as he would've been if Izzy hadn't told him about it. He was about to close the magazine, when he noticed another, smaller, section about the cast of Total Drama Island. It was one of those "Where Are They Now?" sections that had a bunch of random information about the campers.
Owen weighs approximately 296 pounds, for instance.
Heather has a long-term goal of ruling Europe.
Or, say, Izzy lives half an hour away from Ezekiel.
This bit of news made Ezekiel almost drop the magazine again. Suddenly, doors opened up that were previously closed. The possibilities were endless. But first…Ezekiel pulled out a pen and some paper. He needed to write a reply to Isabeau.
But what?
Ezekiel didn't know how to respond to Isabeau. Did he tell her how close they lived, or would that be stalker-ish? For now, Ezekiel put the pen down. He would think about it, and then he would respond.
"Ezek, how are you?"
Ezekiel looked towards the entrance to find his sister, Candia.
"Fine, eh."
"How were the letters?"
"Fine, eh."
"So, what were they about?"
"One was an invitation, or rather, eh, a demand, that I attend a reunion of the campers. The boat's going to pick me up in two weeks…"
Someone swore. Both Candia and Ezekiel turned towards the entrance. A tall woman with bright green eyes and brown-blonde hair stood behind Candia.
"Hello, Willa," Candia greeted in a cold voice, before she tried to leave. Willa blocked her way.
"Stay, Candia, Ezekiel. I want you to know that your father and I are going to be away for two days on a home economics study trip, in about five days from now. Candia, maybe you could spend the night with a friend, and Ezekiel…maybe you could stay with Candia?"
Ezekiel shook his head and answered, "No. I might be able to stay with a friend, eh."
Both Willa and Candia stared in shock at Ezekiel, who just mouthed "Later" towards Candia.
"Well, then, I'm glad that's all settled. I'm cooking pancakes in the kitchen, if you would like –" Willa began, before Candia interrupted.
"No. I'm going over to a friend's house. I need to get going. Later, Ezek." With that, Candia walked out of Ezekiel's club.
Willa turned towards Ezekiel with a hopeful expression on her face. Ezekiel shook his head and said, "I'm going to go walking. I'll be back before dinner."
Then he picked up Isabeau's letter and the magazine and walked past her, pretending to ignore her hurtful face.
Ezekiel didn't lie; he was actually going for a walk. First, he went back to his room and hid both the letter and the magazine. Then he changed his clothes into something no one would recognize him in: black jeans and a black hoodie. You see, very much like Izzy, and probably any of the other campers who didn't want to be noticed, if Ezekiel wanted to walk around town without anyone recognizing him, he'd have to go in disguise. With a last glance back at his room, Ezekiel grabbed a pair of black sunglasses and walked out of the house.
Ezekiel was walking towards the town, which was about a mile away, for only a couple minutes, when somebody joined him. Ezekiel looked over: it was a guy with navy blue hair and navy blue eyes. Ezekiel raised his eyebrows at the guy's hair, like he'd seen many other teens do, but knew better than to comment on it. He, at least, wouldn't be making that mistake a second time.
"Jet, dude."
"Joey."
"Sweet."
Ezekiel was getting nervous; this was his first test. So far, this Jet already believed Ezekiel's first white lie, but only time will tell if he's going to be discovered.
"So, dude, why are you walking with me?"
When Jet looked over at Ezekiel, an odd look on his face, Ezekiel mentally slapped himself. Stupid, stupid!
"Why not, J? And nice shades."
"Um, thanks Jet. So where you headed?"
"The City, same place as you I bet."
"Yeah, eh."
Ezekiel smiled on the inside; this was going better than he thought. If he had known it was this easy interacting with other teens, he would have left the house much sooner.
"So, what're you plans for the day?"
"I'm not sure, dude. It's only, what, ten?" Ezekiel answered.
"Good point, man, very good point."
Ezekiel was reminded of Geoff, the party animal. Another smile.
"What're your plans?"
"Nothing really. I'm just cruising, maybe going to pick up a chick somewhere."
Ezekiel looked up; they had arrived at the City. (Not Izzy's city, just a different city. But their two cities are 30 minutes apart.) The time flew by when you had someone to talk with, even if you talked about nothing important.
"So now where?" Ezekiel asked.
"Dude, I was hoping you knew!"
Jet laughed, and Ezekiel, sensing it was the right thing to do, joined in.
"Okay, dude, okay," Jet laughed. "Let's head towards the mall. There'll be plenty of chicks there."
"But I'm not hungry," Ezekiel protested.
"Uh…What?"
"Well, you said there were plenty of chicks at the mall, but I don't want to eat chicken right now."
Jet laughed again. "Oh, you were making a joke."
Ezekiel, still puzzled, changed the subject pretty quick.
"So how old are you?"
This earned another odd look from Jet, and another mental slap from Ezekiel.
"Are you new here? Like, did you just move in?" Jet wondered.
"Uh…No – Yeah, yeah I did. Family business, that kind of stuff, eh."
"No wonder; you seemed a little off. You see, in the City, we all be friends. When some dude or dudette walks with you, you don't question it. Just like you don't start asking random questions like age, or address. People are quick to jump to conclusions, you know. Chances are, you probably won't be seeing them again, Joey, chances are you probably won't be seeing me again."
"Oh," said Ezekiel, feeling very stupid.
"But, just so you know, I'm 17."
"Oh."
"Hey look," Jet pointed, "we've arrived at the mall!"
Ezekiel did look, and what he saw made his heart skip a beat. Whitney and her clones were gathered about at the entrance. Apparently Jet saw them too.
"Okay, Joey, that girl, with the pink hair and blue eyes, is Whitney."
"How do you know her?"
"Well, me and her have had an on/off relationship until she dumped me about a month ago." Jet laughed. "I wouldn't want to get on her bad side, if I were you."
"Uh…thanks."
"Hey Whitney!" Jet called out to her. "Come here! There's someone I'd like you to meet."
"No! I mean, uh, really, eh, there's no need…"
But it was too late; Whitney already heard and was walking towards them. Her clones surprisingly lingered at the entrance instead of following her.
"Hey Jet. How's life?"
"You know: same old, same old. You?"
"Ha, wire is what it is."
"Wire?" Ezekiel whispered to Jet.
"Crazy," he whispered back.
"So, Jet, you said you had someone you wanted me to meet?" Whitney asked.
"Yep!" answered Jet. "His name's Joey, but you can call him J."
"Hey Whitney." Ezekiel tried to keep the quiver out of his voice. She was going to recognize him, he knew it.
Much to his surprise, Whitney just smiled and responded, "Hey J. You new here? You look pretty familiar. Oh, and nice shades."
Ezekiel stared down at his shoes, but looked up at Whitney behind his shades after Jet gave him a sharp, subtle elbow.
"Yeah, I just moved here. Family business, that kind of stuff. And I get that a lot."
"So Whitney, what are you doing here?" Jet asked, trying to get her attention.
This question seemed to flutter around Whitney's head, as if she's been asking herself that question too.
"Uh, it's the mall. I'm just, you know, looking. Not for a certain person, of course! Just at the clothing, and shoes, and sports gear, and, and shoes…Don't look at me like that."
Ezekiel decided it was time to test his disguise, and test the waters: "Were you looking for Ezekiel?"
Joey and Whitney both turned to look at him, Whitney with a look of shock on her face that clearly said "Holy shit, how'd you know?" and Jet with a look of warning that plainly said "Back off dude, this is not a good topic."
"Hey, uh, Whitney," Jet tried to change the subject, "did you see those beast new footballs –"
But Whitney wasn't having any of it. "No, Jet. It's okay. So, J, where did you hear of Ezekiel?"
Thinking fast, Ezekiel answered, truthfully I add, "My sister's friends with his mail-girl, Olivia, and she hears things."
"Like what?"
"Well, I heard you dumped a bottle of ho'ot pink dye in his hair, eh, and –"
Whitney grabbed Jet's and Ezekiel's arm. "Let's walk."
Jet just smiled and winked at her.
"Okay, J. Tell me everything you know about Ezekiel."
"Um…Let's see...He has brown hair –"
"Chocolate brown hair, wild creamy chocolate brown hair," interrupted Whitney.
"Yeah…and dark grey eyes –"
"Like the dark clouds before a thunderstorm," interrupted Whitney.
"I'm no'ot going to be able to tell you everything if you doo'nt stop interrupting," warned Ezekiel.
"Continue, dude," Jet pressed.
"I know he was your best friend, Whitney, until Total Drama Island happened. I know he made some mistakes on Total Drama Island and made more enemies, most of which resulted from his sexist comments."
Whitney sighed, while Jet whistled: "I didn't watch TDI, but I've heard of it. I didn't know that homeschooled brat was the same Ezekiel on it."
Whitney slapped Jet, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get the message across: "Ezekiel is not a brat, Jet. Yes, Ezekiel was on Total Drama Island but was the first to leave. Look, we've arrived at a McDonald's. Let's eat."
Jet and Ezekiel did look, and they had in fact arrived at the restaurant. They walked in and headed towards a table in the back. If Ezekiel noticed that Jet sat next to him so Whitney wouldn't, he didn't comment.
"Okay, Jet, J, what do you want? It's on me. And don't you even think of protesting!"
While Jet was quick to order a hamburger, Ezekiel was having a bit more of a struggle.
"Um, what do they have here at this…? McDonald's?"
Whitney and Jet looked at each other, a look of concern on their faces.
"Yes, he's definitely new here alright," Jet said.
"And he was probably dropped on his head when he was born," Whitney added, but the twinkle in her eyes made Ezekiel realize she was joking. Or at least, Ezekiel hoped she was, and that twinkle wasn't the sun glaring off his sunglasses.
"Don't worry, J, I'll get you something that'd you like. Just stay here." Whitney walked towards the counter. Jet turned towards Ezekiel as soon as she was out of hearing range.
"That was beast, J."
"What?" Ezekiel asked.
"She was soooooo flirting with you, you couldn't tell?"
"I thought she liked Ezekiel."
"Doesn't mean she can't flirt with you."
"Oh…eh."
"And about Ezekiel," Jet warned, "I wouldn't keep mentioning him. That's a touchy subject for her."
"Got it."
"You got what, J?" Both boys looked up to see Whitney standing there holding a tray with three bags filled with, hopefully, food. "Cause I'm gonna get the bill, in a minute, or two…maybe…"
"Nothing, Whitney. Why don't you sit down?" Jet lied smoothly.
Whitney sat down across from Jet and Ezekiel and started handing out the food. Jet received his hamburger while Whitney herself ordered a salad. Ezekiel opened up his box and found a bunch of oddly shaped brown things sitting in it.
"What are these, eh?" Ezekiel asked. Whitney and Jet laughed, before they realized he was being serious. Whitney answered, in a calm pre-school teacher voice, "These, Joey, are called chicken nuggets. If you bread a chicken and deep fry it, you get these. They are really good."
Ezekiel, still looking uncertain, took a bite out of one. He immediately spat it out in disgust.
Whitney and Jet started laughing so hard, soda came out of Jet's nose. Ezekiel sat there, smiling on the inside and outside. He had friends. Sure, they didn't know who he really was, but they were his friends, none the less.
"That was disgusting, eh!" Ezekiel wiped his mouth with hand. "You said they are good?"
Whitney sighed in fake exasperation. "J, they are good if you're a normal person."
"So I guess that doesn't apply to ya'll?" Ezekiel shot back.
Joey and Whitney started laughing again, and Ezekiel joined in. He should celebrate; it was the first joke he's told that people laughed at. One word echoed around his head: Friends, friends, friends.
"Joey told a joke! It's a miracle!" Jet shouted.
"Maybe you should try going vegetarian, like I am!" Whitney added.
"Shades! Navy! Miss Bubblegum Hair! Keep it down will you?"
Whitney, Jet, and Ezekiel looked over towards one of the many filled tables that were staring at them. A McDonald's worker walked up, sheet of paper in hand and a disapproving look on her face.
"Excuse me," she scolded in a New York accent, "but we've had several complaints about the noise you all have been making. Also, I don't believe you've paid your bill, Mister, Mister, and Miss."
Whitney and Joey looked at each other then Ezekiel. Finally, Joey grabbed Ezekiel's wrist, and Whitney shouted, "Run!"
She and Joey bolted for the door before anyone could stop them, pulling the unfortunate Ezekiel behind. They ran, turning down street after street, following Whitney, who was seemingly running in random directions, for about ten minutes. Finally they gasped to a halt, on the same street, Ezekiel noticed, as his house. What a coincident...
"Guys…Let's split, okay…?" panted Jet, his face red with excitement and lack of breath.
"Got it! See you later, Joey, J." Whitney smiled, her eyes twinkling, and walked down the road.
"Yeah, later J," Jet waved and walked the opposite way than Whitney. Ezekiel smiled and waved back, whispering "Good bye, eh…Friends" even though they couldn't hear him.
Ezekiel returned to his house to find Candia sitting on the door step waiting for his return.
"Ezekiel, there you are! Wait…you are Ezekiel right?" Candia asked.
Ezekiel laughed, pulled off his shades, and pulled down his hoodie. "Yes Candia, 'tis is I."
Candia stared, clearly shocked. "Ezekiel…You…You…"
"Yes…?"
"You…laughed!" Candia stated, shocked. Ezekiel groaned.
"So what are you doing here Candy?"
"Waiting for you!"
"Why?"
"I have some questions."
"Sure."
"First off, where were you for the past four hours?"
"What time is it?" asked Ezekiel, surprised.
"Nearly two!" growled Candia.
"I was with friends, hanging at the mall and eating McDonald's and running from the law because we didn't pay the bill."
"What friends?"
"A guy I met today named Jet and Whitney."
"He talked to you even though it would lower his reputation? She talked to you?"
"Well, I wasn't exactly who they thought I was…"
"Who did they think you were?" asked Candia.
"Joey."
"So you lied, hang out with friends at the mall, ate McDonald's, didn't pay the bill, and then ran for your lives?"
"Yes," confirmed Ezekiel. "Exactly."
"MY BROTHER'S NORMAL!" shouted Candia, overjoyed. "OHMIGOD! HE'S NORMAL!"
"Candia..." sighed Ezekiel, but happy nonetheless.
"Another question...You told Willa," Candia made a disgusted face at her name, "that you might be able to stay with a friend. Did you mean that guy Jet or even Whitney? Cause you said you'd explain later and later is now."
"You watched Total Drama Island, right? Well, there was this one girl, a redheaded, green-eyed, wild child…Isabeau? Izzy?"
"Your point?"
"Well, she – I mailed her a letter about a week ago, and she answered back. She lives only half an hour away."
"You don't mean…"
"I do."
"That's great, Ezekiel!"
"Speaking of which, I need to go and ask her. Laters, Candy." Ezekiel walked into the house and was about to enter his room when Candia shouted, "Since when do you say 'laters'?"
Ezekiel laughed and reached for his pen. He had a reply.
Dear Isabeau,
I'm glad I wrote to you. I thought I was going to go crazy if I didn't have contact with somebody soon, eh.
And I'm glad you forgive me. You were right, I didn't know any better. Because, eh, of my...father. As to why, it's a long story, but I might be seeing you soon. Maybe…
Isabeau, I know exactly what you're talking about. Anyone I befriend immediately turns on me if they realize who I really am. For example, today, I went and spent hours with two friends, at the mall and eating food. The thing is, they thought I was a guy named Joey. They didn't know who I really am. You do.
Thanks Isabeau for the warning. You want to know a funny thing, eh? I got the invitation, more like a demand, along with your letter and magazine. I appreciate the warning. Speaking of the magazine, eh…
Isabeau, did you know you only live half an hour away from me? I saw it in that magazine thing. Which brings me to this question: My father and Willa are leaving on a home economics study trip in five days from today, the 5th, and they will be spending two days where ever they are, eh. So, since you only live half an hour away, I was wondering if I could, maybe, possibly, perhaps, might be able to spend the night at your house, if your parents approve, eh?
From Ezekiel, eh
P.S. I'll try.
P.P.S. I hope to see you soon, Isabeau.
TADA! I finished it. This chapter was much more fun to write, probably because of the entire dialog section.
This chapter-ly suggestion, from, Athulis, is…. (Where's a drum roll when you need one?)
Total Drama Academy: Year One written by Lord Akiyama.
And for the latest advertisements…McDonald's! Brought to you by Jet and Whitney!
Jet: McDonald's chicken nuggets are very good, aren't they?
Whitney: You got that right! Just take a look at this photo!
Jet: This is a photo, in case you're blind or you're reading this, of our buddy, Joey spitting out a chicken nugget he ate from McDonald's.
Whitney: Good times, good times…
Jet: See? McDonald's creates fun memories!
Whitney: As long as you remember to pay the bill! It is very important to pay the bill.
Jet: Hypocrite.
Whitney: Say that again.
Jet: Hypocrite.
Whitney: Why you little!
You see how many amazing memories McDonald's creates? That's why you should go out there and visit your local McDonald's!
Now…
What is Ezekiel's Incident? Will Izzy say yes? If she does, then what drama will surely unfold? And why is a hamburger called a hamburger if it's made of beef?
THE WORLD MAY NEVER KNOW.
Stay tuned to find out!
L8rs,
cometsgirl