[ Chapter 3: ]
[ August 28: Friday... 8:10 P.M. ]
[ Zack's POV: ]
I wanted to stab him, burry him... Anything to stop his annoying snores. Alfred fell asleep like a log twenty minutes into the marathon, so much for the excitement he showed earlier.
Being on the other side of the bed with him beside me didn't help either. If this wasn't my only laptop? I would've banged this on him right about now.
My anime played in the background while his sleeping noises took the center stage. The blue light of the monitor serving as the only source of illumination in my dark room. The electric blanket hugging me, surrounding my body with its heat.
It would've been a perfect set-up if it weren't for this friend of mine, polluting the air with his catastrophic-level snores.
"Oh come on..." I quietly whined.
Even jalapeños wouldn't clear his sinuses, I'm telling you. It drove me insane. The sheer volume seemed like it would burst my eardrums at any moment.
No, I won't just lay the crap down and take this abuse.
With determination to not-go-deaf—I shut my laptop down, threw the blanket off me, and got out of the bed.
The curtains shrouding the outside world from my view, the annoying sound that repeated non-stop. If I was blindfolded, I would've assumed this was torture room.
I had to feel my way through the darkness, my shivering over the cold temperature didn't help.
"Door, knob..." I muttered, arms outstretched.
Once I felt the familiar texture of carved wood on my hands, I traced it down diagonally to waist-height. I found it—the cold, round metal stinging my skin oh-so-slightly.
I opened the door and got out of that hell-hole, closing it behind me. That's a place I won't be entering until the sun's up, that's for sure.
The second-floor hall stretched to my left, dim yellow lights of the lined-up wall lamps creating a cozy ambiance as I began to tread through. My slippers stepping soundlessly on soft carpet flooring devoid the narrow path of the familiar echo I experienced in school. This was home, and it felt like how it should be.
Next week I'll be moving in with my teacher—or possible fiancée.
My mind was settled. This was good for me and both companies. Both of our parent's businesses would gain something from this, all it takes is a ring around each of our fingers.
A marriage with benefits.
As immoral as that idea sounds, I can't do anything to avoid it. If it comes down to it, I'll just worsen my image and have her hate me—more than she probably does already—just to nullify everything.
An example of how life could change in a split second. Allergy to men my ass.
Down the stairs I went, my hand on the cold, glistening, wood railing.
A faint, barely audible voice came from the archway opposite of our kitchen.
"Mom?" muttered myself.
Approaching, her voice got clearer and clearer, louder and louder.
She was definately talking to someone.
"...He didn't seem against it. No. No. Yes, he said you asked him earlier today..."
Well now I know who it was.
The light—from the T.V. I assume—shot out from the room and onto the hallway floor. Background sounds of dialoguing actors resounded more potently as I neared.
Peeking into the dimly lit area, I saw her sitting comfortably on the couch, the phone on her ear. She must've been having a blast talking to her, the smile she had said it all.
I actually felt bad eavesdropping for once, she should enjoy this.
I turned around and went into the kitchen where I would most likely spend the whole night in. Turning the bulbs on and stepping through, my eyes adjusted to the sudden burst of light.
"God. Hate it when that happens..." More of this treatment and I'm going to go deaf AND blind on the same night.
Immediately heading towards the fridge, I grabbed a fresh bag of Doritos and a carton of milk. The island counter was mine for the taking.
I set my mini-feast down onto the cold, marble counter-top. A little celebratory smile jumped itself on my lips.
Chilling on a friday night, not worrying about tomorrow. Totally my cup of tea.
I bet I won't be able to enjoy these moments when they finally send me to my personal cage next week. Living with a very strict teacher? Doesn't sound chill to me.
Half-happy, partly-depressed—I opened my chips and poured the chilled milk on a cup.
I fished a chip out and devoured the little guy. The crunch— satisfying while the flavour got me wanting more. That's what these snacks of hell do to you. Before you know it, the bag's wiped out.
Temptation is one powerful thing, I tell you.
I scarfed it all down in a matter of five-minutes rough.
This is where mister milk comes in. The quenching, cold drink enough to erase the tempting flavours in my mouth.
"Ahhh..." I sighed, sky-high satisfaction after I had gone through everything.
"Zack?"
"Yeah?" I turned around and faced my Mom who now stood by the archway, phone covered by her hand.
"Want to talk to Lesley?"
"No, thankyou."
"Come on!" She playfully insisted.
"Mom please."
"Les, Zack wants to talk to you." And my world stopped as she ran at me, phone stretched out, waiting to be grabbed.
I was sitting, don't expect me to jump up and run full-throttle after eating an entire bag of chips on my own. All I could do was rethink whatever life choice I took to end up in this scenario as my Mom came to a stop infront of me, her smile beckoning me to pick up.
"Mom!" I helplessly whispered.
No, she wasn't having it. The phone inched closer and closer to my face, making my teacher's words on the other side louder and louder.
"Hello? Did she say Zack?" the angelic voice on the phone went.
"Come on, come on!" Mom happily mouthed.
I wished time would just stop there, eject me from the natural flow of life and all of the misery that comes with it.
But that was it, just a wish—something never meant to reach any pleas-granting individual out there.
My eyes stuck to the name on screen— Lesley in huge, black letters just above a framed picture of her.
I sighed with dejection as I grabbed the phone, my heart thumping like a rapid-fire piston. A sudden spike of body-temperature arose from within, the nervous shaking of my hand undying. Awkwardness and nervousness mixing like a dance of unbearable sensations.
"Hello?" I spoke, a lump slowly forming in my throat.
"Oh, it's you."
I could feel the tears starting to pierce the sides of my eyes, my breaths turning shaky. Yup, this was the worst.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Okay, let me clarify some things here Valdez. Nothing's going to be different. At school—I'm your teacher and your the problem wimp, at home next week—we're strangers. Got it?"
It really was just about the papers and rings, that's good then. I could feel a sigh of relief just begging to be let out from the confines of my lungs. Nothing's going to change.
I was going to act the yes-man part again but a sudden question made me back up, smile returning to a confused frown. "Then why do you need this engagement?" I asked.
"None of your business..." was all that I got along with—"...give it back to your mom."
Well—with nothing else to say—I did just that and rewarded myself with a small smile as my Mom took hold of her phone.
Immediately, she dashed back out and moved their conversation into the living room.
Left here with my thoughts, I could vaguely picture out how insane my choices these past few hours were.
"Gave Alfred's umbrella to a rich stranger. Ran non-stop through the rain... And agreed to an engagement with their reason being her allergy to men which doesn't apply only to me. Brilliant."
A crooked grin found its way onto my face. Honestly, I wouldn't even be surprised if this was all just a nagging nightmare.
I sat back down on the counter stool—not knowing if I wanted to cry, laugh, or just die.
There literally wasn't anything I could do about it, even worrying about it was futile.
My eyes felt heavy, my head spun. My body felt hot, heart beating faster than a bullet leaving a gun.
Everything wobbled as the cold air hugged my heating skin.
I became brittle, my bones like sticks just waiting to snap.
My back arched and my face inched closer the counter-top marble tiles.
"What the...?" I sounded slurred, the sounds rippling as they entered.
Before I knew it—my consciousness faded and my worries were left unattended.
____________________________________
[ August 29: Saturday... 6:10 A.M. ]
[ Zack's POV: ]
My cheek felt cold, pressed up against a hard surface. I opened my eyes to see Alfred to my left, making sandwiches.
The slightly-sour smell of mayo coursing through the warm air and into my nostrils, flaring me up to wake. Sunlight bursting through the windows behind him, gracing the whole kitchen area with light.
"Oh! You're awake." he pointed out.
I wanted to say something witty in return but the moment I tried to speak, the right side of my faced ached and begged to differ my decision to do so.
Did I truck hit me last night? Maybe Titanic was rebuilt then accidentaly crashed onto me? My whole body definately felt like that all happened.
"Yeah, figures..." he said in a condescending voice. "...You slept on tiles, what did you expect?"
As sludged as my brain was at the moment, I still managed to recall last night's events.
"Ughhh..." I groaned as I lift my miserable-self off of the counter-top, rubbing the my cheekbone to ease the lingering pain. My neck felt like it was stepped on by an elephant, stiff and most-likely sore.
All of this because... "...You were hella noisy last night."
"Really? I didn't hear anything."
That's because it was you—I wanted to yell, but instead chose the painless path and didn't.
*Achoo!*
"Ewww!" he leaned himself AND his beloved plate of sandwiches away from me.
Disregarding the over-acting kid beside me, I wiped my nose.
My head, ears, and nostrils all felt stuffed. I felt like gravity increased its strenght and chose to affect only me, standing would definately be a herculean task. Mr. Brain must've been sucking himself in cause boy did I feel like my head was going to implode.
I wouldn't even roll out the possibility that I was somehow transported to a desert overnight and came back just now if someone told me so—my throat said it all.
Stuffy nose, headache, fatigue, sore throat and body aching.
My face turned deadpan at the realization. "I might be sick Fred."
"You think?" sarcastic as always.
I slumped back down on the island counter, feeling the cold marble tiles colliding with my rising body temperature. I haven't been sick for years, why now?
"Aunty! Zack's caught a cold!" he yelled, albeit a little too calmly.
Seconds later, Mom walked in. She waltz to my side and pressed the back of her hand against my forehead, her skin felt freezing to me. That meant that mine felt searing hot to her, confirming the damned flu.
"Alfred, can you help me carry him up to his room?"
"Sure ma'am."
Lifting both my arms and draping one on each of them, they lifted my sluggish body.
"Don't go into the light Zack, you're still a virgin." Alfred mused.
I wanted to retaliate but a small, puny glare was all my body could muster at the moment.
I wanted to sucker punch him atleast, but then Mom laughed. "So he hasn't done it with anybody yet." she teased.
"Mom..." My own raspy voice disgusted me. What was supposed to be a booming protest became a pleading whimper, helplessly begging her to cut the subject off.
Luckily, she just laughed and said no more right after.
I made a mental note to myself that I would pay him back for this as they dragged my upstairs. Boy, all of the things in my head weren't humane at all, I could tell you that.
Through the second floor hall, my room door and onto my bed.
I was surprised that Alfred even fixed the bed when he woke up, I thought he'd be a total clutz with all that lax snoring but looks like I was wrong.
The pillows were warm, the curtains were open and everything felt relaxing. This could have be heaven on Earth if my head wasn't hurting.
"I'll make porridge for now. Can you stay and watch over him?" Mom asked.
Alfred, being the 'cool' guy he was, gave her a thumbs up. "I got this Aunty! No sweat!"
With a laugh of absolute amusement, she stepped out.
It was dead silent for a minute, only the sound of her fading footsteps was present to fill in the gap.
"So..." He grabbed one of my stacked up beanbag seats from the corner of my room and sat, staring at me with his blank expression. "...How does being sick feel like?"
I smiled. "Soggy cotton candy."
"I'm assuming that's not good."
"Pretty much."
"By the way, I heard from your Mom. About that thing with Miss Lesley."
Of course he did. "Yeah?"
"I mean... If you need any help that I could offer, just say the word."
"If you could switch lives with me, that'd be great."
His face turned deadpan as expected. "I said help that I could offer. You must have me confused with the AMAZING Alfred."
A little chuckle managed to squeeze through my lips. The guy was funny, no questions asked. "But seriously, thanks man." I told him.
"Of course, now that that's out of the way..." Here it comes. When you think he's finally stopped goofing around, the weird part of him will zoom in again. "...If you're getting married, you think she'll take your V-card."
Disgusting. Yup, right on que.
I didn't bother answering the vile stranger inside my room and just closed my eyes. Though his words continued, my mind didn't heed any. A very fancy way of saying that I was blatantly ignoring his further inquisition on the topic.
"You have a call! You have a call!" said Artoria Pendragon A.K.A. my ringtone waifu.
"Dude, you still have that?" he asked, disbelief and disdain both in his voice.
"She's beautiful, time won't change that." I kept my eyes close, making it clear I wasn't taking any rebuttal regarding the matter.
"Aren't you going to pick it up?"
"Do you want my limbs to fall off? Answer it for me."
"Okay, don't blame me if this goes south." the ringing ceased, finally he moved.
I opened my eyes and watched him and the person on the other side converse.
"...I'm telling you ma'am, he's sick. No. Sorry, ma'am is what I call women I'm not familiar with."
"Who is it?" I asked.
He covered the phone, a worried, scrunched up face shown. "It's Erika Hera, she said you told her you'd call her if you'd be free to come to hang out with her today."
Well one—slightly amazed by how he was able to say that confusing sentence that fast without fail, and two—I can't believe I forgot about what she and I agreed on.
No one could blame me, I just got an engagement dumped on me. Who wouldn't have their brains blown off? Especially if it was with your teacher.
"...I'm telling you ma'am, he's down for the count!" he argued.
"Just give me the phone."
"Really?" he mouthed.
I could flat-out hear her yelling through the phone even with him standing atleast three-meters away. One of the prime examples that show you should never mess with women who have extremely loud voices.
Reluctantly, he still handed me the phone and stood there, probably waiting for me to hand it back to him.
"...I'm going to ask you nicely this time, bucko. Let me talk to him and nobody gets hurt."
"What a way to be nice."
"Finally!" she cheered. "So, are you coming over today? I have the theater ready."
I suddenly feel like she just flexed over me in the most noncholant way possible. "About that, your highness. I'm sick, unless you want me to die just to get there, then please accept my apology."
"Wow, just wow. All that effort for nothing huh?"
"Sorry."
"You better be."
"I am."
"Good."
"So...?"
"I'm coming over."
"What? I'm sick, didn't you hear?"
"Exactly."
"What do you mean 'exactly'? Are you just looking for someone to transfer their cold onto you or something?"
"See you later, low-life."
"Hey—" and... the call dropped. Great.
"How did it go?"
"Lock all the doors Fred." I handed him the phone back and crashed down on my bed. Was today really a saturday?
____________________________________
[ August 29: Saturday... 6:25 A.M. ]
[ Erika's POV: ]
I stood infront of the full-body mirror, my unclothed skin bared for me to examine. The blinds of my windows down to shroud me from the outside.
With the only lighting being artificial, there was only one thing I noticed— coincidentally, the only one thing I didn't like.
"They're still growing?!" my yell echoed off the four walls of my room, repeating my whines in a fading volume. Foot stomped on the polished wood flooring, my legs feeling the slightly-bearable vibrating backlash.
I have nothing against bigger breasts in general, don't get me wrong. But they just get in the way—running, dancing, exercising. Everything, they're there to restrict most of your upper-body movement.
Plus these things aren't exactly the lightest things on Earth. Not any easier than having permanent weights stuck to your chest to be honest.
I sigh, pressing the two mounts of useless fat. They should just stay as they are, not grow any bigger and attract more attention.
"Mine didn't grow at that high of a rate when I was in highschool." Ahh, the comment of misplaced envy. How sweetly painful.
I turned around and faced my mother, sitting in the most lady-like manner you could have ever pictured out.
"It's not a competition that I should be proud of winning in, Mom." replied myself.
All I got was another one of her passive grins, like a queen holding back what was supposed to be a full-blown laugh just to show proper manner.
"No, on the contrary, you should be proud. Not many women are blessed with desirable assets like yours dear." she explained.
"Assets?" I turned back to the mirror, frown showing everything I was feeling. "How could something so useless be called an asset?"
"Jeremy Valdez." She randomly blurted out.
My eyebrow raised. "Zack's dad? Why on Earth would you mention him now?"
I could clearly see her undying grin on the reflective-glass. Our eyes meeting indirectly through the mirror's reflection of ourselves.
"He always chased big-breasted women back in highschool. One of the reasons he married Emily, the queen of beauties back in the days."
My jaw dropped all the way through the center of the Earth and probably pierced the other side.
Wow, okay. "Are your words going somewhere or...?"
"Little Zack, I know he would love those mountains of yours. You want to look good for him right?" Her eyes trained on my 'Assets' with a hint of tease in her voice.
Boy was she way off the mark—by a thousand miles.
I scoffed, brushing my hair and putting on my best sly look. "You're wrong, mom. He's definitely different than your typical guy."
The woman returned the favour. "Really now? How so?" she questioned, her tone implying nothing else but a challenge.
I so got a strong proof for that though. I could already feel my lips involuntarily forming a triumphant smile, feeling the victory a sentence away.
"He brushed me off without a second thought in mind. How's that for your 'How so' line?" It wasn't something to be proud of but now? This was my win, no doubt.
Yeah, it's in the bag alright. Her wide eyes and hung jaw only serving as the perfect trophy. "He rejected you? Not the other way around?"
The voice of disbelief cracking her previously composed demeanor. Toppling the queen of the household like nothing—I seriously deserve a medal or two for that.
"Uh-huh!" I nodded. "He's so not like other guys who just flock on bodies. Don't lump him in with just anybody, mom."
Just like rubbing salt on the wound of defeat, well done Erika Hera.
"Ohoh? I've never seen you smile so much. Do tell me more."
"What?" I verbally questioned.
She heard me—I'm sure—but only stood up and walked over to me. The sound of her high-heels clacking on polished wood, getting louder and louder.
I didn't dare look back, just the mirror showing her business-suit clad body progressing closer to me was enough of an overview to tell that she had something.
If memory serves right, grins aren't meant to be the loser's signature. Yet why was she brandishing a fresh new one?
"Just accept that you were wrong. Don't press the topic mom."
No, she wasn't doing that any time soon.
"Little Zack..." Once close enough, her finger ran through the back of my neck. Cold tracing on my rising body heat as she trailed my back. "...seems rather important to you..."
"Come on mom, we—"
"...Plus you didn't actually reject the fact that you wanted to look good for him, just the statement that those assets of yours would be the ones to lure him in recieved a rebutal..."
I couldn't speak cow-poop even as her head craned over my shoulder, whispering her next decisive phrase. "...I'm curious. Who might he be to you my little Erika Hera?"
I rolled my eyes. "I told you already. Just a friend mom, don't just jump the gun willy-nilly."
"Really? Nothing more?"
"Nothing more."
"Well..." Her teasing touches ceased, leaning back and finally giving me back my personal space. "...If you say so."
Oh trust me, her smile didn't scream 'satisfied' at all. Deciding to set it aside just to continue bugging me for an answer in the near future? Could be.
All I could do was sigh though. Just deal with it when it comes, that was basically it.
We were shoulder to shoulder, our perfect copies looking back at us.
Now standing next to her, looking at the same mirror— I couldn't help but compare. I felt inferior.
Hair? The same.
Eyes? The same.
Skin? The same.
Yet somehow she displayed those things better than I did, like an upgraded version or something.
I bet she could ask out just about anyone—man or woman—and they won't even think about refusing.
"You'll be even prettier than me." there she goes again.
My eyebrows shot upwards in surprise as I felt her hands gently sweeping my hair—a total three-sixty from the sadistic/inquisitive woman she was earlier.
I knew Mom was never the kind of woman to hold back on words that meant something, words that could affect someone in anyway possible. That's why she and my Dad got together actually, a little rom-com story they told me once.
"I wasn't comparing."
"Well my eyes don't lie dear..." She said, now tying the copper-brown strands off her straying hair into a messy bun.
To some people, talking with your daughter while paying most of your attention to fixing yourself might have seemed insensitive on the parent's part. To me? It seemed like every word she spoke flowed out naturally, something she never processed inside her mind. Just the truth and only the plain truth.
"...Give it time and you'll see what I mean."
Me as beautiful as her in the future. That could work, asking just about anybody out without having to feel the feeling of rejection just because the guy cares more about your 'reputation' than he cares for you.
Speaking of him and his nerdy sick ass, I needed to hurry up before he locks his doors up.
I turned to Mom. "I need to get dressed."
"For what?" She asked, gently applying her lipstick.
"I'm going to visit someone."
Well that seemed to poke her attention. Her eyes tore themselves off of the mirror and onto me. "A boy?" she asked.
"He's not into girls from what I can tell."
"Oh. Should I help you pick out something to wear or...?"
"It's fine, I'm not dressing to impress."
I could faintly—BUT SURELY—hear her little giggle. Boy was it rewarding in a weird mom-daughter sense. "I'll head out first then..." she said, putting her few cosmetics back into her purse.
I gave her a nod, allowing her to step out. "SEE YOU LATER!" I yelled.
I expected a cheerful yell back in reply but instead, my door creaked open and her head poked in. "...call me." and then closed again just as fast.
Now left alone in my room to dress up...
[ To be continued... ]