Blog Story, P2

(Before I start, thanks to Emma and Will for the Karen and Karl dialouge below. Yes, they did actually say all that stuff.)

I headed out of German the next day (Evan was apparently President Bush in disguise) not feeling very chipper. We ran out of diet Coke, and the only thing that was left was one of those semi-putrid iced coffee bottle things. As long as i didnt gag, i could deal with it for the sake of not falling asleep in the middle of lunch and getting chicken noodle soup in my hair like that other time. I still hadnt had time to drink it, so i ran back to my locker during study hall.

I uncapped the bottle and took a tenative sniff.

Ew.

I looked at the clock. 4 more hours left until i could go home.

Bottoms up.

I took a sip and turned around...just in time for a UFB (unidentified flying backpack) to smack right into me.

I think you can guess what happened next. The frappachino went flying. I got slammed into a locker, and there was some shrieking from a few girls (you know, the kind who wear polos and really short skirts) who were concerned that a couple of drops had landed in their hair (which i was sure would probably explode if they got too near a bunsen burner in science, due to all the chemicals they put in it. Their hair, i mean). They didnt have to worry too much, though, because the majority of the drink had splashed onto this huge landmass of a guy. I looked around for the bottle so i could pick it up. "Sorry about that," I said to the guy. "I'm pretty sure that it won't stain or anything like that." I spotted the bottle at his feet and reached down to pick it up. There was coffee all over his big, black combat boots.

Wait a minute. Black combat boots?

I looked up. Oh, yes, I was dead.

He looked at me for a minute, like he couldnt quite place where he had seen me. Then he narrowed his eyes.

So very, very dead.

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"Mylie!!"

"Hey, Karen," I said to the five-year-old girl who had come to the door. "Is your mom here?"

"She just left. She saw you coming, and she was late," Karen recited. "Me and Karl are playing with our Beanie Babies. Come on, you can be the bunny rabbit." She pulled me into the living room, where her twin brother Karl was sitting on the rug surrounded by enough Beanie Babies to entertain five pre-schools. I took the animal that Karen handed me. "Aww, what a cute bunny," I said.

"Sergeant Bunny. He's a master." Karl said, completley seriously.

"Oh. A master of what?"

"War."

"Um...oh. Well, why don't i leave Sergeant Bunny here for a second." I walked over to the frige and grabbed a Coke. Katherine (Karl and Karen's mom) had babysat me up until i was like 11 years old, so i was allowed to do stuff like that. It's not like i even made she or her husband Kyle (yes, they have the whole cutesy K thing going on) pay me or anything. Technically my mom won't let me ask them, but it kind of makes sense since we're friends and stuff. Plus, i have a job at the ice cream place.

Anyway, even if we werent friends, i didnt want to fall asleep again. The last time that happened, it was disasterous. Think Sharpies and Silly String. I hadnt even had any caffine all day, so the whole Coke thing was definatley necessary. I squeezed my eyes shut as i remembered the stupid, stupid events of the day.

"Oh. It's YOU," he had said, a little sneer on his face. I pretty much wanted to hit him, but i HAD just spilled an iced beverage all over him. I didnt really get to be angry.

"Yeah, i guess so," I said, picking up the bottle and throwing it in a trash can. "Sorry about...that. I don't have the best coordination."

"I can see that. But whatever. I'm pretty much used to being assulted by you now."

"Okay, come on. It was two times, and one was an accident. Plus, i hardly think that having coffee spilled on you counts as assult. I'm sorry, but there's nothing i can do about it, and the bell is going to ring soon." I turned around and walked to my study hall. Actually, kind of more like ran. I took my usual seat in the second to last row next to Hannah. She peered at me curiously. "Why is your face going all weird like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you just swallowed something disgusting." So i told her the story, complete with Mr. Combat Boots's reaction when I elbowed him. She started cracking up as the teacher walked in and started calling roll.

"Hannah Gilbert?"

"Here."

"Mylie Herdman?"

"Here," I yelled.

"Luke Hull?"

"Here." Ugh. I turned around, and sitting behind me was Mr. Combat Boots, a.k.a. Luke. When he saw me, the permanent smirk on his face grew a couple of centimeters. I snapped my head around to the front of the room.

What's wrong? Hannah mouthed.

It's HIM, I mouthed back. She immediatley turned around and studied him for a straight thirty seconds. Then she held up nine fingers and smiled.

I shook my head as violently as i could without giving myself whiplash. In Hannah language, that meant that he was a nine out of ten on our Hotness Chart (have i mentioned how boring study hall gets?). One is Mr. Thomas, the gross old Tech Ed teacher in middle school. Ten is Hayden Christensen. I did NOT want Luke to be cute.

Although he was kind of attractive, in that poseur, shaggy-hair way. If you liked that kind of thing. Which i didnt. But when i looked back, he looked at me like he knew exactly what we were talking about. And study hall went by and i ran out of there so fast i think i left tire tracks. This was very, very stupid. Only the first week of school and i had already made an enemy who could probably pound my face in. Great.

I walked back into the living room, but Karen and Karl werent there. "You guys?"

"What?" I heard Karen yell.

"Where are you?"

"Looking for Wormy! I can't find him!" She came running down the stairs just as Karl came out of the basement and locked the door behind him.

"Karl, do you know where Wormy is?"

"I locked him in the basement," he said.

"Why?"

"He hit Officer Squirrel in the head. I can let him out, but only on parole."

Seriously. Why do I even bother?