Pencil, Paper, and Passion.

Chapter Six: Ugly Tempers.

    The next few weeks passed quickly as summer slipped away.  I automatically looked out the window to see the once-green trees and stared blankly when I found myself gazing at a messy shelf, instead.  A scowl furrowed my brow and I turned my head to glare at the doorway of Mr. Gallagher's supply closet.  I was sitting on the floor in the middle of the closet, filing the loose papers I had picked up two weeks before.  I didn't even know if he wanted the damn papers filed.

    I didn't know because Mr. Gallagher and I weren't speaking, at all.  He didn't even call out on me in class.  Everyday, when I came to organize his stupid closet during lunch and after school, he'd sit at his desk grading or making assignments.  In an unspoken agreement, we had decided to completely ignore one another in an attempt to pretend nothing had happened between us.

    I frowned, shoving more papers into the filing box before I stood up.  Groaning, I leaned backwards, stretching my back.  I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and checked the time.  4:05; I could leave.  I bent over and picked up the filing box to put it on one of the already crowded shelves.  This was the sixth box I'd filled with papers and I glanced around the closet with a grimace, knowing I'd be filling at least six more. 

    Sighing, I checked my phone again, but this time for any texts or missed phone calls just as my phone started vibrating.  I checked the screen:  Brandt Baby ;P flashed and I rolled my eyes before answering.  "Hey, baby.  When did you change your name in my contacts?"

    "Like, a week ago.  You and Charles were playing Uno at lunch and your phone was on the table.  I took advantage of the opportunity."  Brandt said nonchalantly, as if it were okay to steal others belongings.

    Again, I rolled my eyes.  "Jerk.  Why are you calling anyway?"

    "When do you think you'll be home?  I don't want to get there before you."  Once a month, Brandt, Charlotte, Micah and I convened at my house to consume copious amounts of junk food and to scare ourselves with an all-night horror movie marathon.  It was the second Friday in September and after my little spat with Danielle, we weren't even sure it was going to happen. 

    I grinned, thrilled to hear that our monthly terror binge was still on, especially considering that my mother had taken my brother, our cook and the maid with her to the Hamptons, for who knew how long.  I hadn't been invited.  "I'll probably be there in thirty or forty minutes.  I'm about to leave the school, now.  Are Charles and Micah coming, too?"

    "Yeah, they're sitting here with me."  Brandt said.

    "Where is 'here'?"

    "Starbucks.  Hey, do you want anything?"

    "Hm.  Oh!  Yeah, get a couple dozen Tiramisu Cake Pops."

    "'Couple dozen'?  That's like, thirty dollars.  Without tax."

    "I'll pay you for them when you get here, okay?"

    "Fine, it's your money.  Those things are gross, by the way."  He pretended to gag into the phone.

    "Wrong, darling boy.  They are delicious and I love them.  The only thing better than a Tiramisu Cake Pop, is a Chocolate Tiramisu Torte.  Either way, I get my Tiramisu fix."  I was addicted to Tiramisu.  For over a year, I'd eaten it whenever I could.  I glanced down at my flat stomach and sent a silent thanks up to my father, whose quick metabolism I had inherited. 

    "You need Tiramisu rehab, Eliza."  Brandt stated flatly.  "This addiction is getting out of hand.  Plus,"  He said with actual worry, "It's definitely not healthy."