What's In It For Me Page 2

  I pulled a bowl of boiled macaroni from the fridge and poured a liberal amount of cheese sauce on top. Just the way I liked it. I put the bowl in the microwave and pushed some buttons.

  "We only have Thousand Island dressing, my mom's favorite."

  "That's okay; I eat my salad without dressing."

  My eyes widened, "Wouldn't that taste, I don't know, disgusting?"

  "I don't mind the taste; I only eat for the sake of not dying," Andrew shrugged.

  The microwave finished its little magic and I removed the bowl of macaroni cheese. I grabbed a spoon and sat opposite where Andrew was sitting. Andrew watched as I ate my dinner. Call me crazy, but I could swear he thinks my dinner's much tastier than his. Which is totally true.

  "You dying? I don't know, that sounds pretty good to me."

  Andrew chuckled.

  "What?" I asked when I noticed that Andrew was watching.

  "I'll trade my salad for your macaroni," he said.

  I continued eating my dinner, "No way, Alleyn."

  Andrew looked at his salad. He memorized its taste since he decided to go vegan at age nine. Quickly, he dipped his spoon on my bowl when I weren't watching and ate a spoonful of delicious macaroni cheese.

  "What the -" I was taken by surprise. I moved a little bit farther from Andrew.

  "Why don't you try to be nicer to your guest?"

  "Guest your face! I'll kick you out of here if you dare dip your spoon on my bowl again."

  "Oh well, we might as well share my salad," Andrew took a nice big lettuce leaf and spoonful of tomatoes and dropped the vegetables on my bowl, "Enjoy, Sherlock."

  "Eew! Get your salad off my macaroni!" I was yelling but for some crazy reason also laughing. Andrew tried once again to dip his spoon on my bowl and missed. We were laughing. We may not be friends and all, but because we've known each other for so long, we felt very comfortable with each other. No awkward moments at all. We went on like this until we finished our dinner, talking in occasional one-liners and sometimes, dialogues. When we finally walked out the kitchen, Reed Crowe, the computer programmer, was already sitting beside Wesley in the living room; both were watching the Original Star Trek Series on DVD. I can't believe they did not wait for me.

  "How's work, Reed?" I greeted casually. Reed turned and smiled at us, "Great," he stood up and grabbed a small plastic bag from the side table, "In fact, I have something for you." He handed the plastic bag to me and I quickly looked inside. I gasped loudly in excitement as I pulled out the latest installment of Halo. Andrew eyed me intently.

  "You are the best, Reed," I said, emphasizing and meaning every word. For me, Reed has been more of a father figure than my own dad has been. I keep wondering when he'll ask my mother's hand in marriage.

  Reed humbly shrugged, "I see you have someone with you," he said.

  For a moment, I forgot all about my archenemy being inside my own house. I quickly turned to Andrew and introduced him to Reed. "Uh Alleyn, this is Reed, my mom's boyfriend. Reed, Andrew Alleyn, he's from my school."

  Reed nodded cordially at Andrew and Andrew nodded back.

  "I guess you can take your umbrella home now," I told Andrew and handed him his umbrella back, "Thanks."

  "Don't mention it," was all Andrew said before walking out the home he never imagined he'd visit.

  ***

  "I already said no, Sherlock," Mr. Parker, our principal, told me in his trademark I've-already-decided-now-scam way.

  I devised some plan to get the principal see it my way. I couldn't have strained more how important a spring ballet is to this school. This'll give an opportunity to the ballet club to showcase its talent. Plus it'll be great for the club members in need of a scholarship for performance arts or aspiring to have a chance at Juilliard. Mr. Parker's sister-in-law was a dean in Juilliard, so the arrangement wouldn't be hard. I'll even gladly do it myself.

  "It'd be good for our school. Think about what the parents would say. Think about all the praises."

  "Think about all the bother, with the championships coming up. I have to cut budget, Sherlock."

  I lit up, "Ah, don't worry about the budget. I can do something about it."

  He dropped his head in defeat, "You have to talk to Andrew about this."

  "Who?"

  "Andrew Alleyn. I'm surprised you don't even know your own president."

  I rolled my eyes. "Of course I know Alleyn. Why do I have to?"

  "Simple. He's the drama club president. He practically owns the stage."

  "But -"

  The principal put up his hand to disrupt, so I stopped talking. I cant believe he said Alleyn owned the stage. He's the freaking principal for crying out loud. He still have a trick up his sleeve. This is his secret weapon. He knows full well how Andrew Jet Alleyn was my archenemy. Now he's saying that I can't plan a spring play without coordinating with the drama club. Screw that.

  "Coordinate with the drama club or no play, Sherlock."

  I stood up and said my goodbye. As I pulled the door and walked out I could here the principal chuckling. What an immature person. I know he still lives with his mom. Where will boys be without their moms? Ugh.

  I flipped to my notebook's first page, where my sched was written in a neat table. Not that I'm a forgetful person, I know that I have Commercial design next, but I still have to make sure. I don't even know why I'm taking this class, it sure feels out of place next to my Creative Writing and Advanced Physics class. The only thing good about Commercial design was that it's probably my only class without Andrew Alleyn, who's having Home Economics (tee-hee).

  Before heading directly to my next class, I decided I'm thirsty so I stopped by the drinking fountain. This particular drinking fountain was located beside the girl's locker room. I could hear Tara's voice along with her cheerleader friends. I completely forgot I was part of their troop of green and white witches that I showed up for school in my usuals, jeans and long-sleeves. I don't even know why they wear those silly garbs everyday like uniforms. Do they really think that just showing up in school in preppy short skirts make them superior and more confident than other girls? I weep for the future of womankind.

  ***

  "You pathetic little nepotistic jerk. Pass me the putty knife so I can slit Mr. Parker's throat here," Winona told me in commercial design class, which was basically just art class. Winona Richards has been my best friend since middle school. She barely changed since then. Both of her parents were hippie, and I loved visiting their house on Saturday nights if I don't have work and singing 60's songs about peace and love. Wins, on the other hand, hated it, for she favored more of the-world-sucks-I'm-really-angry music.

  "What, so you're a pirate now?" I handed her the knife but I was laughing. "Why is he nepotistic?"

  Winona looked at me as if I just asked why birds have wings. "He was like Alleyn's uncle-in-law now. I thought you googled?"

  "Uncle-in-law?"

  "I heard Andrew's brother married the Principal's niece or something like that. Anyway, slitting people's throats was not an exclusively pirate way of killing." She held the small Mr. Parker model clay she just made on one hand and the putty knife with the other.

  "Wait," I interrupted, "Why don't you just resort to non-violence? You know, people like him deserve second chances."

  She dropped both items on the table and tugged her hair (which was also black) in frustration. "Shucks Kit, you sounded just like my parents."

  "They're totally right."

  "I thought you were my best friend."

  "Uh huh, that's why I'm stopping you before you even make a big mistake."

  "It's a clay model, for crying out loud," her voice was high now, and some shot us inquisitive looks, "it's not even bigger than my hand!"

  "Oh Wins, you are such a big brat." I patted her back in an overly-sympathetic way.

  "You are so funny, do you know that?" Winona and I laughed the whole commercial design period.

  ***

 
; "Sherlock," I heard Tara called my name through the crowd in the hallway. I was absent-mindedly loading my locker with my books that I dropped a heavy bio book when I came to my senses. I picked it up and looked at Tara not unkindly.

  "My parents were out of town this weekend and I'm wondering if you'd like to come to my party this Saturday," she said. Guessing on her tone and body language, I think she was just obligated to invite me. Maybe it's her invite-all-my-cheerleaders-to-my-parties-so-they'd-invite-me-too rule or something.

  "Uh," I checked my sched posted on my locker door, "I'm sorry I have work Saturday night." This was not a complete lie. My mom told me to watch over Wesley, which is 13 years old, by the way.

  Tara put on her pleading eyes and grabbed my hands. I have to say, I was shocked. "You have to come. Please? Please? Pretty please with cherry on top?"

  "I'm actually allergic to cherries." Which is totally true. The last time I consumed cherries my tongue grew the size of a brisket.

  "Oh, sugar then."

  I sighed, "Okay."

  "Thank you." What she did next surprised me. Never in my life have I been hugged by a cheerleader, now Tara the cheerleader captain was hugging me. Not that it's a compliment, it's not even close to one, and it's just that it's so hard to believe.

  I was now suspicious that it wasn't just about the stupid girls' rule. It's about something else. Something bigger. I have to ask her something. I got this theory coming up.

  "Tara," I cleared my throat, sounding all business-like, "is Alleyn coming?"

  "He is now." She waggled her fingers at me and walked away pixie-like. Most of the heads turned as Tara walked down the hallway as if it was covered in red carpet.

  So I was right. Andrew never wanted to go to her shallow party and he devised an almost foolproof plan that included yours truly. He knew I wouldn't want to go so he told Tara that he'd only go if I'll go. It was a perfect plan, but he forgot one teeny tiny detail: that I hate him so much I'd rather go to one shallow party than make up his day.

  My relation with Andrew Alleyn is really confusing. We hate each other very much, that being a given, but we never truly hurt each other, either physically or otherwise. In some cases, the most popular being the time we were teamed up as the Greenvale representatives for the all-state Battle of the Brains, we were almost friends and an indestructible team. I guess I wouldn't have to mention that we emerged victorious after battling Virginia in a do-or-die championship round.

  The three o'clock bell has finally rung. I picked up my bag and headed to Toni's, were I worked Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays after school. Of all my work (receptionist at Sonya's Salon Saturdays and Sundays and cashier fifteen items or less at Greenvale Mart Tuesdays and Thursdays), Toni's Pizza Parlor is my favorite. For one thing, I totally love pizza and second, it's just a few walks away from school and my house.

  This particular Friday there were very few customers. I used the time finishing my homework, which was pretty much easy-peasy. Hours passed the usual at Toni's and I timed out eight o'clock sharp after polishing the counter, the floors and arranging the tables. I bought a family-sized Bacon and Cheese pizza to bring home. After waving goodbye to Toni the incredible pizza guy and Josie his lovable wife and waitress, I headed home with my pizza in hand.

  The smell of pine trees surrounded me as I walked the dim-lighted streets of Greenvale. What is unique about Greenvale is that it sticks to its theme: green and white. While everything was pine trees, the houses were all white. Some even nicknamed Greenvale as the small town of White Houses. Each and every house painted clean white, bringing to memory those perfect families you see in suburban pamphlets, where they advertise real estate. As I watched a particular white house that is slightly larger than the others I was beginning to think that not all families in Greenvale were perfect. The inside of the house was well-lit, well enough to illuminate the green mailbox, the word Alleyn written clearly on it in bold letters, but there was no one inside. Well, none that I could see. I shrugged to myself and went back to walking, but I heard a faint rustle by the bushes. I stopped dead on my tracks. I could feel that there was something watching me and it appears to be very near. I breathed deeply and readied myself to run, but when I finally moved, a figure loomed over me and cupped its hand on my mouth to prevent me from screaming.

  "Shush, Sherlock." Andrew Alleyn removed his hand on my mouth.

  I untangled myself from him. He was a good head taller than me. "Don't shush me."

  I noticed he was glancing nervously at his house.

  "What are you doing outside your own house?"

  "They think I'm sleeping now, but I just got home from Big Joe's." Big Joe was the coffee shop where he worked without pay.

  "So what? Get inside."

  "You don't understand, I haven't had dinner yet."

  "So what? Ask your mom for some."

  "Stop using 'so what'. My mom doesn't cook. They order everything or just eat outside."

  I felt the pizza box still warm on my lap.

  "You can have some of my pizza here. Just make sure you don't finish it all off."

  "What have you got there?" He was still glancing back at the house.

  "Bacon and Cheese."

  He automatically put his hand on his mouth and gagged. After all these years he still can't process the idea of eating meat.

  "Don't be such a vegan princess," I pulled out a slice and picked out the pieces of bacon, "see, I'll pick the pork out."

  When I finally got all the bacon pieces out, I handed the pizza slice to Andrew. He was unsure but he took it. I bet he was really hungry. Even I myself will refuse to eat something handled by someone else.

  "Uhm, thanks. I guess," was all that he could say before eating up the slice of pizza. I pulled one for myself and we ate while sitting by the curb. If this was happening to other people, you might even say that this is kind of romantic. That kind of stuff will never happen to Andrew Alleyn and me, Kit Sherlock.

  "So what's your plan?"

  He just looked at me, his blue eyes reflecting the moon, clearly not understanding what I just asked.

  "How are you gonna get inside?"

  He nodded as if he suddenly understood all. "I'll wait for them to fall asleep and I'll climb up my bedroom window."

  Seriously? He's gonna climb up his window like a common burglar? I cannot believe this guy's parents.

  "And what time is that, exactly?"

  He shrugged, "I don't know, ten maybe."

  My eyes widened. I looked at my watch and read the time: 8:45. "You're going to wait here until ten?"

  He only shrugged as if this was common. He swallowed the last of his pizza. For a moment, nobody said anything. I wanted to leave, but the thought leaving him right there on the curb all alone felt horrible, evil even.

  "You should go now; your parents might be looking for you."

  I guess he's right. But did he just say 'parents'? Oh well, I don't mind. I shut the lid of the pizza box, tied the ribbon and stood up.

  "You're right."

  "Thanks for the um, dinner."

  I shrugged, "No problem," then turned to leave. I've just walked exactly twelve steps when I heard Andrew's voice called from behind.

  "See you tomorrow night, Sherlock."

  ***

  I spent my Saturday working at Sonya's. Due to my friendliness and my erudite personality, I easily get along with people. My job was even easier. All I have to do was to mind the cashier, answer phone calls and make appointments. This particular Saturday, Sonya, the owner of the salon was attending a wedding reception nearby so we have to close early. That gave me more time to prepare for Tara's party. I forgot a tiny detail when I planned on ruining Andrew's Saturday night: I haven't been on a high school party. Nobody ever invited me. Besides, I wouldn't have come even if someone did.

  "I'm home," I called out to no one in particular as I opened our front door and stepped inside. It was just our family custom. My mom peered out from the kitch
en and greeted me, "Oh, hi honey."

  I removed my jacket and dropped my sling bag on the sofa, where Wesley was reading the latest issue of Reader's Digest. I subscribed to it, but Wesley always got his alien paws on it first before I can even see the cover. I thought about asking my mom for tips when attending a high school party, after all, she was one of those popular kids back when she was in Nebraska.

  "Mom," I approached her as she prepares a complicated Indian dish, "I was invited to this party tonight."

  She smiled at me, as if it's been the first time I'll be out socializing with people, which was not true at all. I'm a very outgoing person, it's just people tend to ignore me. I wonder how Andrew Alleyn invokes attention without even meaning to.

  "That's nice. Be sure to come home by twelve and drink lightly."

  "I won't stay that long. Plus, I don't drink."

  "Oh honey, you're eighteen years old. In few months you'll leave high school. Go out, have fun. Life is too short. Just don't get trashed like there's no future to worry for."

  "I know better. Thanks mom." I turned to head to my bedroom.

  My bedroom has been my private place for as long as I can remember. Outside, a neat sign that says "Kit's room, Go away" hung neatly on the door. The inside was decorated by me. The floor was covered by a cheap fluffy blue carpet I bought from a nearby D.I.Y. shop and the wallpaper reminds you of night time in a city. Since second grade, I was collecting glow in the dark stickers and has been sticking them on the wall. By now, my bedroom wall was practically covered with glow in the dark stars, moons, comets, spaceships, etc., that when the lights were off, I wouldn't need a night light.