Alright here's the third chapter, this ones slightly longer because I added to seperate scenes into this piece. Thanks for reading :)
I stared absentmindedly at my lunch tray as I walked blindly through the cafeteria the next day. This day wasn't going any better then the previous one. Boomer had kept his distance today, but I could tell he wanted to talk to me. I didn't know how to react to it all. Everything was happening so quickly. After all, it was literally yesterday that I could be the girl who couldn't get out of her head, but now, even my sisters were including me in on plans.
"Brooke!" Bridget exclaimed urgently. I glanced up quickly, only soon enough to see Boomer with his nose stuck in a book before we both collided. I landed roughly. The only sound that was ringing in my ears was the crack of my head against the linoleum flooring. A low groan escaped me as I shifted into a sitting position. It was times like these I was glad for Chemical X.
"Brooke, you okay? Are you hurt?" Boomer asked as he offered his hand to me. It was all I could not to laugh. He should know better than anyone a little fall wouldn't hurt me. "I guess we should both get our heads out of the clouds." He added after a moment, again shoving his hand towards me. "Let me help you up." I blew my bangs out of my face and took his hand, allowing him to effortlessly pull me up. "Why don't I get you another lunch? Yours is kind of history."
I glanced down at the spattered meatloaf that covered my shoes and sighed. I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Amongst the gravy and mess I noted one of the books Boomer was carrying. It lay open, splattered with some of the dressing from my salad. Hesitantly, I knelt down and daintily picked it up, sure to avoid smearing the pages. "Sorry about you're...book," I muttered as I wiped a bit of the dressing from the page carefully. The words caught my eyes and my breath hitched. "This is Hamlet."
Boomer's worried expression dropped, and instead an uneasy smile replaced it. "Oh—um yeah it's my favorite Shakespeare play, after Taming of the Shrew of course." He replied with a nonchalant shrug. "You noticed, that's surprising, I'm sometimes surprised my brothers can read."
"What's so surprising about me guessing that this was Shakespeare?" I asked sharply. Boomer raised his hands and winked.
"You and I both know we aren't the smartest of our siblings. We can sometimes be a little absent." He replied defensively. I don't know why, but a sharp pain cut through me. Why did that statement hurt, especially coming from Boomer? Stop taking everything he says to heart Brooke. He's playing with you. I scolded myself mentally and turned away from him. "Don't you want lunch?"
"I lost my appetite." I replied shortly. "Thanks anyway."
I took my respective seat to Bridget's right. Both my sisters were staring, which was relieving any of the tension that I was already feeling. Biting the lip gloss of my lip I stared at my hands silently. It was Blaire who broke the silence. Figures.
"I thought we weren't supposed to be interacting with the Rowdy's?" She whined bitterly. "We can't trust them, especially Butch. I mean you should have seen that perverted asshole, the way he looks at the girls as they walk by. It's completely—"
"Blaire, this isn't about Butch's habitual flirting. I mean, Brooke couldn't really avoid this confrontation—completely." Bridget turned to look at me gravely. "You need to get your head out of the clouds; we need your complete concentration at a time like this. I've talked with the Principal and she said she wants us to be aware of their actions at all times. We can't afford any violence." I nodded sadly. I knew it was coming. They thought I was ditzy, like Boomer. No, no, don't let that—that boy band wannabe get to your head. He's just going to distract you. "Brooke, are you even listening? This is what I'm talking about."
"Sorry," I mumbled as I drew circles in the tabletop with my fingers. I could feel Bridget's expression softening as she placed a hand on my shoulder gently.
"We just don't want you to get hurt." She stated. I mentally kicked myself. Of course they doubted me; they thought I couldn't handle myself. It almost hurt as much as Boomer's comment. We can sometimes be a little absent... My jaw visibly tightened. I wasn't going to be compared to him, he wasn't like me. The Rowdys were nothing like my sisters and I.
My gaze flicked between my half finished sketch and the clock a week later. I was almost home free, almost free of Boomer's gaze which had remained locked on me the entire class period. I shuddered when my eyes briefly met his. I had to work tonight, some refuge from my thoughts, well almost. I was a waitress at Sparky's Diner on Main Street, it was a pretty popular place. It was also one of the only places I didn't have to worry about bumping into my sisters. As popular as the diner was, they hated the atmosphere and wouldn't step in it. It was too loud for Bridget and too mainstream for Blaire. That made it a prime place for me to be myself.
The bell blared through the intercom and I was up and running before any of the other students had time to gather their bags. Thank you Chemical X. I silently praised the lab accident that had brought about my super powers. Speed was a good thing, especially when you were avoiding someone. I flitted down the stairs of the main entrance and into the brisk autumn air.
I glanced around me; the school ground was relatively empty. They were probably just emptying into the halls now. I silently thanked the accident again and shot into the sky. Normally I wouldn't opt for flying. It was colder at the higher altitude and the wind always messed up my hair. Looking cute was still pretty important to me, but today I just wanted to get to work as quickly as possible.
You need to stop worrying so much Brooke. Look at Bridget and Blaire; they don't even bat an eyelash when they're around the Rowdys. Why can't you act more like them? I thought bitterly as I glided through the sky. Then again it wasn't even like Brick or Butch had bothered me at all. They were pretty much recluses. Brick had spent most of his classes buried in his notes and books, much like Bridget. And when he wasn't buried in his books—well that glare of his could curdle milk. It didn't surprise me that no one really approached him. He wasn't really the approachable type. As for Butch, well, he certainly had gotten the girls' attention at school. Even I heard the gossip about how many girls wanted a piece of him. I made a note never to mention it in front of Blaire. She'd be sure to burn my favorite blouse for that piece of information.
It really surprised me how the students completely forgot how much of a threat these boys were; well I'm sure they didn't forget. They just didn't care. The girls wanted their hands on Butch, and Brick, well most people avoided him. I didn't hear much about Boomer, maybe because he was always gluing himself to me. Why was he always doing that?
I landed at the back entrance of Sparky's and ran a hand through my windswept hair. I hurried through the door and into the back kitchen, making sure to give a friendly wave to the cooks. My apron hung on a small hook at the front of the kitchen, near the doorway into the restaurant. I quickly tied it around my waist and sifted through the pockets for my pen and paper pad.
"You're here early." Nate, another one of the waiters at Sparky's and a relatively good friend of mine, noted. He smiled at me and ran a hand through his wavy chestnut hair. "But you're just in time. A group of boys came in and they requested you."
"What are you talking about?" I asked breathlessly as I twisted my hair in its usual side ponytail. "No one ever requests me for service." Nate shrugged and threw his head back at the door.
"They were pretty insistent that they had you." He replied with a shrug. I glanced through the small window on the door and my blood ran cold. Seated at a small booth, the Rowdy's were looking at menus. They seemed completely at ease. Damn, they probably followed me here.
I turned back to Nate and my gaze severe. "You have to take them Nate." I just about pleaded. I glanced back at the window and saw that they were now staring at me. They probably could hear me. I forgot about their super hearing. Nate shook his head and pocketed his pad of paper.
"I don't think they'll take too kindly to that," he trailed with a roll of his eyes. "Just take care of them. It's your job after all." Was his added reply, a small laugh escaping him as he turned to retrieve a tray of food.
"Some lifesaver you are," I called after his retreating figure, but he was already too far away. I inhaled sharply and smoothed the creases in my blue blouse. No point in moping, you'll have to deal with them either way. I pushed the door and entered the noisy atmosphere of the diner. A false smile twisted my lips as I approached the table, pen poised above the paper. "Welcome to Sparky's boys, may I take a drink order to begin with?"
"Actually, I was wondering if I could have a taste of you, Bubbles" Butch jeered with a quick wink. He twitched faltering his sexy smile.
"Unfortunately, we find water and soap mixed together to be a bit of a health concern here at Sparky's. Besides bubbles don't taste that good." I replied after a beat. The smile faltered on the green Rowdy's face. I smiled sweetly and flicked my bangs out of my eyes. "Is there anything else you'd want?"
"Just get him a god damn coke," Brick stated huskily. "Same for me." He added shortly as he pulled out a Calculus textbook and opened it. Boomer smiled toothily at me and cradled his cheek in the palm of his hand.
"I'll just take water." He slurred. "Thanks." I returned the smile falsely and turned back to reenter the kitchen. Alright, that wasn't that hard. Maybe I'll be able to do this.
I ran back to the soda machines where Nate was filling up some cups. "So I see you didn't die." He observed with an obvious smirk. "Congrats." I rolled my eyes and swatted him away. "Real mature Brooke." Nate took on a glassy look, a goofy smile stretching across his face.
"Get that stupid look off your face and get working." I laughed and bumped hips with him. "And you call me a lazy worker." I grabbed the soda glasses and carried them to the door, leaving Nate alone. The boys hadn't really done much since I left, they didn't even really talk to each other. Brick stared ahead, completely ignoring the noise and bustle of other people. Butch was turned around completely in his seat, hitting up the cheer members in the booth next to them. Man, he moved fast. And then there was Boomer—I stopped myself—stop it you have a job to do.
"And here are your beverages," I stated briskly as I set the glasses down in front of the boys. "Now—" I continued as I dug through my pocket for the pad of paper. "What can I get for you boys?"
Butch put on his best smolder and leaned forward. A part of me really wanted to see how he was going to turn ordering a hamburger into a pick up line, but before he had the chance, Brick cut in. "Just bring me something with meat, rare." He stated simply. "And bring the horny bastard a hamburger." Butch gave his brother a dirty look, but it didn't faze Brick. The other part of me was relieved she didn't have to endure another pick up line and breathed a sigh of reprieve. I kind of liked the other two better when they didn't acknowledge my existence. I noted as I turned to look at Boomer hesitantly.
"I'll have the bacon burger, no ranch; I got enough of that still in my Hamlet book." He stated with a shrug. I bit back a sharp retort. What was with the snide comment?
"Sure, I'll put that in now." I responded tightly, holding back the urge to send a bolt of power right through Boomer's skull. It wouldn't hurt him...no matter how much I wanted it to. You're starting to sound like Blaire, you need to leave. I hurried back into the kitchen, making certain no one was around before I collapsed on a box of hamburger buns. I couldn't figure it out. Boomer would be flirty one moment, sarcastically witty the next, and then he'd go back to being the idiot he was. What was his motive? Brooke—you're over analyzing again. Stop doing that. No motive—just an idiot.
"Brooke, are you going to go out and look at your other sections?" Nate asked curiously as he poked his head around the corner. He rubbed his hands on the green fabric of his apron nervously and glanced around. "You don't want the manager finding you like this." He continued urgently. I stood up and smoothed my apron defiantly. When I went to pass him, Nate grabbed me softly by the arm. "Brooke about the—"
"Nathan, Brooke, get back to work, I'm not paying you to have conversation." The manager sneered from the kitchen. I cast Nate an apologetic glance and hurried back to the front of the restaurant. I completely bypassed the boys and went to check on a group of jocks from the basketball team. I recognized one of them as Mike Stevens, a boy who had created an imaginary friend that wasn't so imaginary back in Kindergarten. We had been close back then. What happened to 'back then'?
"Hello boys, welcome to Sparky's, Can I get a drink—"
"Yo hot stuff, where's our order?" I shuddered in response to Butch's voice. Yeah, I definitely wished they were still ignoring me. Quickly shirking my disorientation, I turned back to the group of boys, but not without shooting a quick beam to the Rowdy's table. There was a groan and a low chorus of snickering, followed by a moodily mumbled "Bitch" on Butch's part. This was going to be a long night.
"Brooke, you're shift is almost done with. Haven't those guys left yet?" My manager asked moodily from the back of the kitchen as I shuffled through some of my tips. It had been four hours since I started my shift. Nate had long since left, and I was the only server out there and there was only one table occupied. It had been occupied since I got there. I sighed and blew a strand of my silvery blonde hair out of my eyes.
"Not yet." I muttered, a little defeated. My manager, a stout balding middle-aged man rolled his eyes.
"Well once they leave you're free to go. I hope they leave soon, they're louder than the football jocks." He mumbled to himself as he made his way to yell at some of the cooks. I saluted mockingly and pressed through the doorway back to the front of the restaurant. I had just spun around when I froze. The lack of Rowdy at my booth was mind numbing. Hadn't they just been there a second ago? I approached the table hesitantly. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, bombs, booby traps, the overpowering smell of Axe? But it was none of those things. Instead placed neatly on top of the bill was the money for the meal and relatively generous tip.
Appalled, I picked up the money and shuffled through it. Was that a twenty? "Holy shit," I muttered, completely dropping my anticipation. Were they serious? Twenty bucks for a tip? This was the Rowdys? With a shake of my head I scolded myself. They're bad Brooke, so they gave you money, they probably pitied me. Or this is fake, or stolen. Forget and get home.
I quickly pocketed the money and cleared the table. I wanted to get home before the booby traps or mustard gas kicked in.