Chapter Twenty-Two

Gabby's POV

Gilbert didn't show up at breakfast the next day.

I had been in pretty high spirits that morning- I'd dreamt about going to prom with a Boomer, and was ready to share the story with my friends. Francis and Antonio, however, didn't look at all like they wanted to hear about the insane scene my subconscious mind had created. I guess the absence of their Bad Touch buddy really dampened their spirits. Let me tell you this now: seeing the two most smiley people you know looking bereft and discouraged can bring you down like nothing else.

"So uh… Lovely weather today, huh?" I commented with a forced grin. Alfred snickered at my stupid small talk starter, seeing as it was pouring outside; Francis and Antonio's expressions, however, matched the dreariness of today's weather. I coughed back my over exaggerated smile and awkwardly shoveled some cereal into my mouth, taking the hint.

"Where's Gilly?" Alfred asked, completely oblivious to the atmosphere of foreboding swirling around our table. Caliegh suddenly froze, nearly dropping her spoon back into her oatmeal as she brought it up to her mouth. In a mere instant, she'd gone from her usual expressionless self to an aura of anxiety, fear, and guilt. What did she know that I didn't? I recalled falling asleep the previous night to the sound of muffled crying, and wondered if I shouldn't have blamed it on pre-sleep delusion.

"He… wasn't feeling well," Francis murmured. I hadn't noticed until now that he hadn't even touched his crepes. "He wanted some alone time."

Gilbert Beilschmidt, wanting some alone time? He was the loudest, nosiest, friendliest guy I knew, and he wanted some alone time? What in the world was happening? I was briefly reminded of my friends' shock back in sixth grade when I had been so overwhelmed by depression that I stayed home for 3 whole days, and when I told them my reasoning, they told me they never, ever would have expected that from me, the cheeriest girl they knew. My heart gave a painful lurch as I questioned what could be going on behind those scarlet eyes… Next time I saw that albino, I was going to hug him.

"Why's everyone look like they're at a funeral?" Well speak of the Devil… Gilbert plopped himself right between Antonio and Francis, smirking as usual, and looking completely like himself. The two members of his trio looked even more surprised than I did, yet their looks of astonishment were nothing compared to Caliegh's. She hurriedly stared down at her lap, quickly scooping oatmeal into her mouth while blushing lightly. Yeah, something was definitely up.

"Gilly, why are you-?"

"I must've had something really unawesome for dinner last night, but my stomach's feeling better now," Gilbert cut Antonio off. For a brief moment, he displayed a serious expression to his two best friends. It was obvious that he was silently saying, "Don't talk about it."

It took a few minutes, but the whole BTT was eventually back to their usual composures.

"Yo, Gab, can I have your last fry?" Alfred asked somewhere along the way, taking a slurp of his Coca Cola and nodding at my almost empty basket of fries. I put on a look as if he'd just asked to eat my first born child.

"Hell no. I paid good money for these fries, and I intend to eat every. Last. One of them."

"I'll fight you for it." Alfred put up both his fists, grinning; I did the same.

"Bring it, beeotch."

Alfred abruptly gasped, and he pointed over my head. "Oh my god, is that Lovino Vargas picking a fight with Ludwig again?" The Italian's known hatred for Gilbert's younger brother made this claim believable, so it was an instinct to turn and follow the direction of Alfred's finger. (Through my peripheral vision, I saw Antonio spin around with me and gasp 'Lovi?!') By the time I realized my mistake and turned back around, Alfred was chewing with an expression of utmost pride, and my fry basket was empty.

"I will shoot you," I threatened, unable to hold back a laugh.

"You two are simply precious," Francis crooned, linking his fingers and resting his elbows on the table. My lighthearted grin faded instantaneously. Still on this me x my best friend high, huh Franny?

Antonio finally gave up staring around the room for Lovino and perked up, grinning in our direction. "Ooh, sí. You should date!" he insisted. Alfred, who had been slurping down some more soda, started choking so heavily that I had to pound on his back.

"Ew. I'm allergic to Alfreds."

A mischievous smirk played on Francis's lips. "I'm being serious, mon cher. You two would be an adorable couple!" he insisted.

"Gross, girls have cooties." As annoyed as I was at the moment, I couldn't help but giggle at Alfred's comment.

"Look, you two lovebirds," Gilbert began, pointing at us with a sausage link. "This Saturday, there's a club that's admitting people for free if you show them your student ID. How about you two go on a little date?"

"I do like to party…" Alfred admitted, obviously starting to be drawn in by this offer. I confess, I found it pretty appealing, too.

My conscience was telling me to turn the request down, because I knew it would be held against me forever. But I really wanted to go... "Can't we go as just friends?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Nein. You can't go to a club together without it being a date."

"Then we'll bring my sister with us!" Caliegh gave me this completely unamused look that I couldn't help but laugh at. "Look, we'll go. But no matter what you say, it is not a date." Alfred nodded twice in agreement. Gilbert flapped his hand.

"Fine, fine, whatever… But you two will be in love by the end of the night." Instead of thinking up some witty comeback like I knew my sister would have, I just took a haughty sip of my water and got up to throw my trash away.

I had made sure to get all my homework done on Friday night, so I didn't have anything to worry about come Saturday. I spent a majority of the morning picking out my outfit, and was pretty proud of what I'd picked out. It consisted of a plain black pencil skirt that went down to just above my knees, a black leather belt covered with lots and lots of fake silver gems, a blue-and-white horizontally striped tank top, and black knee-high boots that looked like they belonged to a hooker. I decided to pull my hair into a high ponytail with the sides hanging down to frame my face. The only piece of jewelry I wore was the necklace my grandma'd bought me 3 years back (it was a little diamond-studded G on a silver chain), but really, I was okay with that. I loved my outfit.

And I didn't have to starve myself to wear it.

The club was within walking distance, so Alfred- clad in converse, baggy jeans, and a skintight t-shirt under his favorite bomber jacket- met me outside and escorted me down the road by foot. It was uncharacteristically quiet between us for the first few minutes until Alfred asked if I'd ever been to a club. I shook my head. "I ain't cool, popular, or rich enough," I told him with complete honesty. He shot me a reassuring grin.

"I went to this club last year, and it was beast. Each floor's designated to a different age group- we'll be goin' to the one for 15 to 17- and they're split into a dance floor on one side and a karaoke bar on the other. But it's kinda lame, 'cause the section we gotta stay in doesn't have alcohol at the bar, it's more like a snack bar."

To be honest, that was a huge relief to me. But I wasn't about to admit that out loud.

We had to wait in a pretty long line outside, but as it turned out, most of the people were escorted to the upper floors. Alfred and I, at 16 years old, stayed on the first floor, and I was surprised to see it was an awful lot like any school dance I'd been to: dimmed lights, side spotlights sending rainbow beams across the dance floor, a DJ taking requests on a little stage, people dancing like total idiots, a lonely person or two moping off to the side, girls dressed like whores and boys dressed like posers. My nervous smile lightened up; looks like I didn't have to worry about returning to my dorm drunk or pregnant.

"So do you wanna dance first, or grab some grub?" Alfred shouted to me over the Flo Rida song blasting from the multiple speakers. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"I guess I'm kinda hungry," I answered equally as loudly. Alfred nodded, and before I could ask where the karaoke bar was, he grabbed my hand and maneuvered us through the crowd to a door on the opposite side of the room. When he closed it behind us, I was surprised at how utterly sound proof the walls were: the music playing on the dance floor was so loud you literally couldn't hear yourself think, yet we were a mere room away and all I could hear was the murmur of conversations and the instrumental music playing on the stage while people tried their hands at singing in front of a crowd of fellow teens. A gay-looking Polish guy I recognized from my homeroom was singing Britney Spears; oh yes, I'd love to spend quite some time here.

"Come on, dude. Let's check out the buffet," Alfred instructed before I could really get a look around. I glanced at him and just nodded, letting him drag me over to the buffet table. It was nothing compared to the one back at the academy's cafeteria, but those chicken fingers were looking pretty damn appetizing. I grabbed a water bottle out of an icebox, tossing a can of Pepsi to Alfred, then loaded the crispiest pieces of chicken onto a plate.

The line wasn't very long, but Alfred was having a hell of a tough time deciding between ribs and pizza, so by the time we actually located a booth and settled down, the Polish guy had finished his song and so had 2 people after him. "Bro, we gotta sing something," Alfred teased as a girl who'd screwed up half her song's lyrics stormed off the stage in tears.

"Oh, yes, that's an awesome idea," I agreed sarcastically. Alfred let out his signature laugh, causing a few of the people at the tables around us to turn and give him dirty looks. I froze mid-chew as I realized they must have seen us as a couple. But we weren't a couple. Al was my best friend, and I'd just broken up with Mathias. …Well, it had been a few weeks. Yet I still didn't feel ready to move on.

I managed to chase those thoughts out of my mind while we sat, ate, talked, and laughed like the idiot BFFs we were. We had just gotten done singing along at the top of our voices to someone's version of We Are Young by Fun (the poor guy probably couldn't hear himself, since everyone basically overpowered him) when the karaoke DJ walked up to the mic to announce the next victim/singer. He had done this with every person before, so I literally thought nothing of it and just took a swig of my water to help calm down my giggles.

"Next up, singing Don't Stop Believing, will be Gabby Bibus!"

It's a good thing Alfred wasn't my date, and was such a good friend that he wouldn't judge me, because I spit my drink out all over him.

"Dude, when did you put your name in?" he asked, almost as bewildered as I was.

"I didn't!" I shrieked, as if it was his fault my name had been called.

"Well… You gonna sing?" I don't know why it felt like such a betrayal that he was grinning as he spoke. I stared at him like he was a total idiot. Which he was, really.

"Uh, no," I stated.

Alfred lightly punched my arm, trying to encourage me. "C'mon, you can't be any worse than the last few people! It'll be awesome."

At this point, everyone was looking around the room, murmuring about this mysterious girl that was cowardly backing down from singing. I let out an exasperated sigh, standing up huffily. I marched over to the stage, angrily at first, but then toned it down a lot so that I had a demeanor as sheepish as Matthew's. So many people, all about to watch me sing and most likely fail… By the time I made it to the stairs leading up to the stage, I was quivering.

I'd sung karaoke once, in seventh grade, and I think I did okay. Then again, there were about 3 people listening; everyone else was just talking amongst themselves and not paying attention. Still, the years of Chorus class I'd suffered through shaped my voice at least somewhat, so my skill level went from God-awful to average. My sister, of course, was blessed with the voice of an angel, and was constantly being offered solos in her concerts….

Anyway. As the pretty lengthy instrumental started, my eyes absently darted around the room. I didn't recognize a lot of faces…. But there were three that I knew all too well: sitting at a table close to the front was none other than the Bad Touch Trio. From the identical smirks on their faces and the over-exaggerated woops of support they shouted, I knew they were the douche bags that had submitted my name. Well, at least they chose a song I knew by heart….

Sending a speedy glare their way, I averted my stare and forced myself to ignore their heavy presence. I knew I wouldn't have to look at the lyrics screen, but I was going to keep my eyes glued there anyway; that way, I wouldn't have to look at my audience and end up fainting. I gulped, and started out pretty damn shaky and croaky: "Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world…" My gaze burned into the lyrics screen, concentrating so hard that the world around me was starting to fade away. I sang the next line a little smoother: "She took the midnight train goin' anywhere…"

With a deep breath, I prepared for the next line, only to feel someone grab my hands and pull the mic toward them. I swear, I jumped at least a foot in the air, so surprised that I couldn't make a sound. I'd been so focused on zoning out of my surroundings that I hadn't even noticed Alfred follow me onstage. Now he continued the song, his singing voice youthful and enthusiastic: "Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit. He took the midnight train goin' anywhere…"

Thank you, Al. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I wouldn't have to sing this alone…! We switched off for every other line, until we got to the bridges; those, we sang in unison. Sometimes, I'd eff up a note, though I didn't blush in horror like I would have if I was alone: I broadened my grin, crossing my eyes to illuminate my mistake and causing a laugh on Alfred's part. We had originally been stealing the microphone back and forth for each line we sang, but when we got to the final "Hiding somewhere in the night," we both took it, our hands enveloping each other, and we held out "night" at least 5 counts longer than necessary.

By that point, everyone had started clapping along to the beat, some people singing along with mock optimism. I was still trying my hardest to sing my best, and the fact that I couldn't honestly tell if Alfred was making a joke out of this or not just made me feel so much less ashamed of all my screw-ups. I stared into Al's blue eyes, and he stared right back into mine; I was smiling so widely that my mouth seriously hurt.

We ended on a "Don't stop," and when we ended the 10-count long "stop," I noticed the Bad Touch Trio stand up and applaud wildly. Nobody else stood, though I don't think there was a person in the room that didn't clap or whistle. My voice had only cracked a handful of times, plus I'd sang the entire song in front of about 50 people and actually felt good about it…. I couldn't help myself: I felt so exuberated, I squealed and threw myself into Alfred's arms.

I never even noticed that when he dropped the microphone in order to hug me back, actually picking me up and spinning me around, Francis left the room.

Al and I intended to head back after we finished our meal, yet when we stepped onto the dance floor, one of my favorite songs- Vegas Girl by Conor Maynard- was playing, so we just had to stay and dance/sing to that. The music that came on afterwards wasn't bad either, so in the end, the two of us danced along to about 10 songs. We acted as if we were the only two people in the room, twirling and jumping and fist-pumping and Gangnam Styling (and, I admit, a moment of grinding) like ridiculous party animals. We walked back to school sweaty and exhausted, our ears ringing and mouths unable to stop grinning.

I really should've gotten a shower when I got home, but I was way too tired, so I just stripped out of my outfit and tossed on my favorite Victoria's Secret pajamas. Caliegh hadn't looked up from her notebook since I came back; still, I wished her a good night, and since I was in such a damn wonderful mood, I even blew her a kiss.

I fell asleep almost instantaneously…. to the blurry image of Francis bringing his applause to a halt and leaving the room. Obviously, I hadn't seen his face when this happened, but with the haste and abruptness at which he'd left, I pictured his expression being either bitter or downhearted. And that brought my amazing, exhilarating, fabulous mood to a crashing end.

~Author's Note~

I actually kind of enjoyed this chapter... Anyone have any hunches as to why Francis stormed out of the karaoke bar? ;)

-67OtakuGirl24X3