When Time Ran Crooked

36 hours, 52 minutes, and 21 secinds Until

"Bees, tell me a story," Claude ordered.

"A story?" I repeated.

"Yeah."

I scowled. "Why should I tell you a story? You probably have way better stories to tell me."

"But you already know so much about me, and I feel like I don't know much about you," he insisted.

But I wasn't convinced. "What could I possibly tell you that would be of interest to you?"

Claude considered this for a moment. "What were you like in high school?"

This felt like old news. "I already told you about Sonja."

"But I want to hear everything," he told me. "Remember, I was graduating college when I was a teenager and heading into the working world- I didn't exactly have a normal youth. So tell me about yours."

"But where do I start?"

"Start anywhere," he urged me.

"You're lucky that I'm getting no bored, or else you'd be getting none of this." I rolled my eyes. "I guess Sonja's a good start as any. Like I told you before, we were apart of a bad crowd. We ditched class to smoke cigarettes in the girl's locker room. On the weekends, we'd chug beer in our garages and sneak into punk shows with fake ID's and complain about society."

"And was it fun?" He asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

"Fun?" I repeated, imitating his tone. "At the time, I thought it was. But I was ... empty. I was lonely. I didn't have any purpose in my life and, honestly, I was just waiting for the day this stupid lifestyle would kill me."

"So what changed?"

"Since I couldn't have cared less about my grades, I didn't have great grades. So, in my junior year, all of my friends and I were placed in these classes designated for all the dumb, failing kids. But I had this one teacher, she taught English," I informed him. "Something you have to understand is that for most of my school career, I had caused trouble. A lot of trouble. Like setting-fire-to-garbage-cans and vandalizing-the-principles-car sort of trouble. So despite the fact that I should have been failing all of my classes, my teachers just kept passing me, since they didn't want to risk having me again the next year."

"They sound like horrible teachers," he remarked.

"They were, but I understand. I was pretty bad. But my English teacher was different," I explained. "I don't know what it was Mrs. Hasmioto saw in me, but at the end of the first week in class, she called me into her office. To summarize, Mrs. Hasmioto pretty much told me that she wasn't going to accept my bullshit because she knew I was capable of doing more than I lead on to. And Mrs. Hadmioto made me a deal: if I could get an A in her class, she would convince all of my other teachers to give me A's in their classes as well."

Claude raised his eyebrows, seemingly impressed. "That's generous."

I agreed,"It was, but I couldn't have cared less at the time. But it was like she knew just how to push me hard enough to make me care. In class, Mrs. Hasmioto would grill me with questions like she did no other kid. At first, I would be snarky and sarcastic in response, which made my classmates laugh. They seemed to think it was hilarious that I was sticking it to the man, or whatever the hell those punk losers used to preach."

"So what happened?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, obviously something changed," he insisted. "You turned things around. But what changed to motivate you to do that?"

I couldn't help but tense up at his question, the truth stirring in my mind. Because it mainly all had to do with one Christmas dinner and a meal I could, and will not, every forget. But I couldn't tell Claude about that, he would ask too many questions."Oh. Uh, well ... after awhile, the joke got old and they seemed to think it was funnier that I never knew any of the answers. It even became a class joke that if you were being stupid, you were supposedly Pulling a Bea. So I started studying, just enough to correctly answer Mrs. Hasmioto's questions. And since I was doing all the work to do know the answers, I started doing my assignments, since they were fairly simple. And since I was doing all of my work for English, I started doing it for my other classes as well, and soon enough I didn't really need my English teacher's deal. I got straight A's all by myself."

"And then you broke up with Sonja?" He inquired.

"Yes. I lost the rest of my friends, too. I get that we were in high school and sometimes it feels like we were thrown into sea, lost in the tossing waves with no life preserver to keep us afloat. But they were drifting in all sorts of different directions and I couldn't keep up with all of them once I realized I knew which way I was meant to go," I described. "I spent most of the rest of high school alone. I even left my senior prom halfway through when I remembered that I hated all of those people ... and I had spiked the punch. But, I mean, there was an open, unguarded bowl of lunch that was the only drink choice for a crowd of five hundred. How was I supposed to not spike it?"

Claude chuckled. "You were a real nuisance, weren't you?"

I smirked up at him. "You could say that."

"You were a real nuisance," he repeated, but he smiled down at me to let me know that it was a joke.

"Smart ass," I muttered.

"To be honest, I would say you still are," he responded. "A nuisance, I mean."

"You're a real charmer, Claude," I commented, dryly.

"Professor Flitwick would be so proud of me," he retorted.

"You know I was being sarcastic, right?"

"Duh." Claude rolled his eyes dramatically at me. "I'd obviously be a whiz at Transfiguration."

"Would you transfigure food for me?" I demanded.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" I snapped.

"Maybe," he confirmed.

"What does a girl have to do to get some food for herself transfigured around here?" I muttered.

"I can think of a couple things ..." he mused.

I narrowed my eyes up at him. "If they're sexual, I swear to-"

Now he eyed me cautiously, but I could still see the blush forming on his cheeks. Feel the heat radiating off them. "You know I can't really transfigure food for you, right?"

"No, Claude, I thought you were a real wizard," I deadpanned, sarcastically.

"Well, admittedly I could see how you'd be confused by my magical looks," he said.

"No."

But he kept on going. "Or even my spell-binding wit."

"Nope. You're not funny," I insisted.

"You can say no all you want, but I know you love it," he insisted.

"Please." I rolled my eyes. "The only thing I love is Oreo's."

"And me."

"I don't think you understand, Claude: I will cut off your testicles if you keep being so annoying," I threatened.

He gulped. "Understood."

*

Hey Reader!

Notice: hey, sorry for the late (and short) update. But for this part in the novel, I wanted to write their time together in Brief excerpts. I have more ready to publish, which I probably will tomorrow, and I promise that it will all have a ... satisfying end ;)

Thanks for reading :)

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