𝚂𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝙼𝚢 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 (Complete)

𝙰𝚗 𝚄𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏

Ｄｅｍａｎｄ

𝐓𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲

Ｄｅｍａｎｄ

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

When I asked for—more like demanded—Collin's ticket, he immediately agreed. In fact, he agreed so suspiciously quickly that at the time, I reached over to pinch his cheeks and jiggle them around for a minute. When he remained dead serious, I decided that I might believe him.

"Are you done doing whatever you're doing?" he asks.

I release his surprisingly soft cheeks and wipe my hands on my shorts. "Well, anyway," I say awkwardly, "just put the ticket in my locker whenever, and I'll be sure to find it. Okay, that's it, bye." I turn to walk down the hall when I hear him call after me.

"See you tomorrow for our date!"

"Yeah, okay—hold on, what did you just say?" I stop dead in my tracks.

"And don't think of denying that this is a date, Andrist! I know grandma says boys deny, but I've found out more times than once that girls can deny too."

I turn back in his direction to see him waving and walking with his back turned like he's some cool bad boy walking away from a few hundred girls that have fainted. I think I might join those figurative girls—but for a totally different reason.

"Gosh, he's so annoying. He thinks he's all that and more. News flash, buddy: You're the butt of all the girl's jokes," I mumble as I punch at the number pad on a vending machine. "Pickle-flavored Oreo chips? Sounds like something Justin would invent."

"You called?" a voice questions from behind me.

I leap into the air and stumble backward after landing on unsteady feet. "Do you have a thing for sneaking up on people?" I ask. "Or do you just have a death wish?"

"I don't sneak up on anyone," Justin denies. "And I would also never wish for something so dark and terrible. Are you becoming goth?"

"You're goth."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not times infinity."

"Yes, you are times infinity times infinity."

"What are we talking about again?" he asks in confusion.

"I have no idea," I reply with a sigh. My eyesight returns to the vending machine, and I realize that I can't remember for the life of me what food (if it can be called that) I had wanted to order. "Any recommendations? Wait, actually, never mind. I really don't want to know."

"I would try the pickle-flavored Oreo chips, personally, but the chocolate-covered macaroni and cheese crunches are pretty good too."

"I have better things to spend my money on," I mumble despite my stomach letting out a growl. I ignore it, walking down the hallway with Justin following in tow. Suddenly I'm pulled away from the cold tile floors into one of the dark classrooms. A hand goes over my mouth and prevents the scream from escaping my mouth.

"Um, do you really think this is necessary, Lucas?" a soft voice questions from the shadows beyond.

"Lillian?" I mumble through the hand covering my mouth, but it sounds more like 'Lee Lee Jin'.

"Hey, Paris!" I hear the same voice whisper louder. "It feels like it's been forever, doesn't it?"

I allow my lips to quiver upwards, just a bit, which reminds me of the foreign hand on my mouth. I'm done with filthy hands covering my most beautiful source for the most beautiful words. What right do these people have to cover my pride and joy?

Honestly, the world would be a better place without it.

But don't fill my mouth with the awful taste of your last finger food—maybe something like pickle-flavored Oreo chips or some other vending machine treat.

I grab the arm the hand on my mouth is connected to and pull it over my shoulder, flipping the heavy figure and allowing gravity to finish the job. My eyes finally finish adjusting, and I see the famous rock star rolling around on the cold, dirty floor. "Hey, Lucas," I greet with a smug smile.

"Hello to you too," he replies with a groan, rubbing his back as he winces in pain.

"That's what you get for scaring me half as bad as Justin just did," I reply curtly.

"Paris? Paris? Paris?" The final 'Paris' I hear from the hall outside is held out for about a minute. The steady footfalls echoing after suddenly pause. "If you jumped into a portal, why did you leave me behind? I want to go slay a dragon too!" Then the footfalls start again as he runs down the hall—probably to go find a 'portal' to go jump into. Let's all hope he succeeds.

I try the door handle and notice that it's locked. "Is there a reason I just got kidnaped and locked in a dark classroom?" I ask. "Because I kind of have to use the place. You know, the one with the whirlpools in uncomfortable plastic chairs."

"Whatever that place you have to visit is, it has to wait," Lucas returns. "There's a more pressing matter to discuss."

"Does it have anything to do with the crime you just committed?"

"Yes—I mean, no...Well, yes that's why we kidnapped you, but no, it's not a crime—Wait, is it...?"

"Just get to the point," I interrupt.

"The point...right...Well, as you know, my concert is tomorrow and there is a lot of work behind the scenes. Half of the staff canceled last minute for various reasons—odd, I know—, and I wanted to ask for your help since I need people I can trust on hand. I would pay you, of course."

"How much are we talking?" I ask narrowing my eyes through the dark.

"Whatever you want."

"Whatever? Like if I asked for—"

"Within a reasonable amount," he stops me before I finish.

I fold my arms, looking away and giving a little pout. "I'm reasonable." Sighing, I drop the ridiculousness, set a hand to my hip, and ask, "What about Justin? Doesn't this involve him too?"

"I couldn't find him."

"What do you mean? He's like...everywhere!"

"Except the places I looked, apparently."

"And where exactly did you look?"

"You know, places."

"What about right behind me when you pulled me into this classroom?" I question, giving him a pointed look.

"That...I admit—I did not look there."

I hear Lillian shuffle beside me before I hear her delicate voice echo through the room. "I don't mean to be rude and cut in but is that all we needed to talk about? We should be getting to our next class...I mean, if you want to...I'm not trying to rush you guys or anything, I swear, I just—"

"I agree," I reply. "Our next class is with the substitute, Mrs. Engroff, and her temper is even worse than her Shepherd's Pie—it sent a few dozen students to the emergency room and supposedly a few to their graves, but that's just last year's students' typical dramatic gossip. Although, their gossip is usually true, albeit a tad overspread throughout school. That's how legends start, after all."

"So her Shepherd's Pie is legendary?" Lillian asks with a shiver.

"Yeah but not the good kind of legendary," I reply.