A Night To Remember

Two: Poetry, Baking, and Lack of Sibling Privacy!

The day trained on as usual. A weird dread lingered over me all the way until classes ended; which I masked as best I could. What Raymond said stuck out to me, how they acted. Never in my life had I seen them like that. I mean, yeah, they'd get upset now and then; but never like that. Why didn't they just show me the text? What was so freaky about it? It was just Anne, after all.

Anne wasn't like that.

A loud ringing filled my ears as soon as the bell rang. The minute my period eight teacher freed us from the hellscape of a classroom; all there was was talking, shuffling, and walking, all over the halls. Pausing at my locker a moment to catch my breath, I noticed Anne at the locker next to mine. She had her door open, stroking through her hair with the brush she kept inside the locker. I closed my door, and the sound of the metal clanging against more metal caught her attention. She smiled, setting the brush back on the shelf and slamming the door shut.

"Hi~," she said with that sing-songy tone of hers. She leaned against the locker, glancing at me. I forced myself to be normal for once.

"Hey," I replied absent-mindedly, leaning against the locker next to her. The metal was freezing cold against my arms, and part of me wondered how she could lean against it like this without freezing. considering the fact she was wearing a crop top. "So, uhm, have you found your phone yet?"

Anne sighed irritably, crossing her arms with a pout. "Nope," she muttered, "I called my mom in the office...she said she was looking." I nodded, glancing at the carpet below us before speaking again.

"When did you have it last?" I asked. The least I could do was at least try and be helpful.

"Probably yesterday," she replied, "Then again, I don't know where I ever leave anything." She muttered in frustration. I stifled a laugh at her little pouting.

"Yeah, I'm still waiting for that hoodie back," I replied. Her face heated up and she shot me a glare.

"Come on, that was one time!" she said in a whiny tone, nudging my shoulder with hers.

"Still," I replied with a shrug, "I need that back, can't keep it forever," I replied with a smirk. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah I can," she muttered.

"Nope~ You'll have to wash it eventually," I commented. She did a double-take and spoke.

"But then it won't smell like you anymore! I won't have a reason to keep it," she said, speaking like a toddler after being denied dessert before dinner.

"Exactly," I said, bopping her nose. She rolled her eyes but failed to stay mad at me for long.

"Are you coming to the Poetry Club?" she asked, grasping at straws for a conversation about something other than her forgetfulness.

"Don't I have to?" I replied with an amused laugh, "I'm club president, love." She was about to speak but words failed her.

"Well, I knew that," she commented quickly. "You think Raymond will come this time?" I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"If I beg them, maybe," I replied with a smirk. "You know them."
"Yeah, you might need to pull out some Shakespeare or something to use as bait," Anne joked with a smirk. "We could recite Romeo and Juliet, that'd get their decades-old interest piqued."

I laughed, shaking my head slightly. "You know I'm more of an Emily Dickinson person. And come on, they aren't that old fashioned ... maybe."

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After what felt like centuries of begging and pleading and tackle-hugging, Raymond agreed to come.