'No!!' Owen shouted out of irritation. He turned to Brendan, 'I didn't quite understand what kind of language they were talking about, it wasn't important to me anyway but..,' his eyebrows helped him form a frown of suspicion, '…where did you hear the people talking about it, Brendan?' he asked him.
'I… I heard some two guys talking about it and I just got curious. Anyway, how is your father taking the boycott of his book?' he changed to another subject.
'He's a broken man, but he'll be fine,' answered Owen. 'He says the world will thank him one day because of something he's currently working on.'
'Do you know what he's working on?' Brendan asked.
'He never allows me into his lab. He says he will when I turn nineteen.'
'Oh, man…when will she stop?!' Simon's expression turned into disappointment and frustration.
Brendan looked behind him, the same direction Owen and Simon were looking in. Samantha was pacing steadily towards them.
'You know what, Brendan..? You were right,' Simon said.
'I was..?' he asked looking a bit puzzled.
'Yeah… It's high time I confronted the devil head-on.'
'Whoa, wait…what?'
'What do you want here, S.B.F?' Simon attacked her as soon as she arrived.
'Can I talk to you, Brendan?' she ignored Simon's obtrusive question.
'Brendan, sit down!' Simon ordered him.
Brendan was now half standing, exchanging glances at both of them.
'Simon, what is your problem?' she asked in a tone of contempt.
'You are, S.B.F. You think you can just come here and turn my friend into your personal goldmine?'
'Excuse me?'
'Simon, that's enough,' Brendan interrupted. He beckoned Samantha to follow him.
She hesitated at first, her gaze locked on in frustration at Simon but then she finally left with Brendan.
They stopped at a deserted table and they sat there facing each other.
'Talk about a pain!' she rolled her eyes in Simon's direction. She was not wearing her blazer but she was wearing her prefect's badge which was pinned on her chest right above her left breast. She ruffled her hair once before she tossed it behind her.
'What did you want to talk to me about?' Brendan asked her.
'Oh, it's about tonight.'
'What about tonight?'
'You know…the Dance. Are you going?'
'Why do you want to know?'
She gnawed on her bottom lip. 'I'm just curious.'
'I'm not going.'
Her eyes widened but it could not be confirmed if they had widened in surprise, 'Why?'
'Because it's stupid. I wouldn't want to place myself in such a predicament.'
'Predicament..?'
'This thing is clearly meant for couples, Sam.'
She looked aside as if she was holding back the thoughts and words fighting to break free from her mind and mouth. She turned her eyes back at him then said, 'We could…we could go together…not as a couple, I mean as friends just…just to chat,' she suggested.
'I don't think that's a good idea.'
'Why?'
'People could mistake us for…for…you know…'
'Oh! We could deny it,' she shrugged as if in protest.
'It wouldn't make a difference; rumor is a great traveler.'
'Come on, Brendan; sitting indoors and watching TV isn't much fun either.'
Although Brendan's mouth was trying to reason with Samantha, his brain was still trying to figure out how he had gotten himself into such a tricky situation. In fact, it wasn't tricky at all. All he had to say to Samantha was "no" and they would both call it a day. Instead, his mouth and brain continued on their own separate agendas. 'Sam, compared to the Dance, I think sitting in my living room and watching TV doesn't sound too bad.'
Samantha leaned in from across the table, her eyes considering Brendan's like he was an open book. 'You're scared,' she finally said, her words distinguishable but very low within the room of booming and ringing conversations.
Brendan's smile looked lost. 'Scared of what?'
'Brendan, are you scared of what people would say if they saw the two of us together?'
He shrugged twice, turned his head to the side then looked at the table, shrugged one shoulder then reluctantly turned his eyes back at her. 'I…I just don't like complications, Samantha, that's all.'
Samantha laughed. 'Complications? Complications, really?' She laughed again. 'Brendan, I've called you horrible names in the past two years and you never called me a bad name back. I insulted you in front of a lot of people but you've never shied away. But I suggest us going to the School Dance just to hang out and you suddenly turn as red as a beetroot?'
'So you think I don't want to go to this stupid event because I'm shy?'
'Well, yes. And scared of what people would say.'
Brendan felt himself lose his temper. He had never been accused of being a coward before. 'You're talking nonsense,' he said forcing a makeshift smile, 'the last thing I'm going to be afraid of is going to some stupid school Function…'
'With a girl,' she stressed the words, like they were the last piece of the confession in a murder trial.
Brendan glared at her with burning eyes. 'What's wrong with you, Samantha?'
She giggled like a little girl, which happened to be the first time Brendan was seeing her do. She said, 'If you're not as scared as you say, then come to the Dance.'