Malcolm continues to meet me throughout the day. Actually, he seems to be wherever I am. Outside my third period after the bell, near the lunch table with the girls – though he didn't talk to me. Just stood with his friend in the wheelchair, whose name I don't actually know, and kept glancing and smirking at me.
It would have been annoying if it wasn't somehow endearing.
"Hey," Malcolm says as I walk out of sixth period psychology. I hide my smile behind my hand and give a simple nod.
We walk side-by-side toward the parking lot without talking, something that is somehow also endearing. Most of the times we walked together today, we didn't always feel the need to fill the air between us with incessant chatter. It's kinda nice.
Setting my book bag onto a bench, I sit down to wait for Toria. Malcolm sits on the other end of the bench and looks around.
Today is one of those unnaturally bright and warm days. It makes me miss Seattle and its actual fall weather. Here the leaves are losing their color and falling to the ground, but somehow the sky doesn't realize it's supposed to be cold.
"Where's Terry?"
I squint at him, "Who?"
"Your sister."
I laugh and shake my head, "Toria, not Terry."
Malcolm makes wide eyes, putting his hands up in front of him and shaking his head. "Hey, don't fault me – your parents named you really weird stuff."
I roll my eyes. Partially true and not the first time I've heard almost those exact words, so I don't respond.
Today has been one of those days where everything is borderline bad but it never goes full-on worst day ever. After Mr. Luke's—stupid jerk—weird nosiness, my classes went by sluggishly and without incident. I managed to complete my homework before it was due at the end of each period without any teachers noticing, which was nice. Definitely don't want to make any more waves when there's already talk about knocking me out of my AP courses. Herkabe, whose still subbing for Mrs. Ridley in psychology, never even indicated he knew I was there.
Whatever. I'd really rather be off his radar after this morning and the first two weeks.
What a terrible teacher. And person, for that matter.
"Are you and Reese over?"
Shaken out of my thoughts, I stare at Malcolm, mouth slightly open. What? He itches the back of his neck and scoots a few inches closer to me on the bench. I instinctively scoot away, my backside partially not even on the wood at this point.
"Did you hear me?"
My head movements are somewhere between a nod, 'yes,' and a shake, 'no.'
He glances beyond me as he asks again, "Are you and Reese over now? After what happened with—"
I put up my hand. "Thought we agreed not to talk about it ever again?" I shake my head and grimace at the concrete. "'Member that?"
"I know, sorry. It's just that . . . what's going on with you two now?"
Oh gods, why? This is literally the last thing I want to think about, much less talk about with Reese's brother. I push up my sleeves and press my fingers into my forearm, watching as my skin becomes white around my fingertips.
"Malcolm," I say in a low voice after a few seconds.
"Yes?" He scoots closer to me.
I stand up without thinking and keep my gaze trained on my arm. "To be honest, I don't want to talk about this—"
"Sure, but—"
"—with you," I finish.
"Oh," is all he says.
A little sliver of guilt seeps into my mind. Damnit. I really, really don't want to talk about this, but we're friends now, right? And friends talk about this type of stuff.
I glance at him without turning my head too much. My gaze catches his and we stare at each other a few moments. A small flip. Gulping, I shake my head inwardly.
But we're not just friends. It's not that simple.
I sigh and sit back down. Looking at him, I shrug with my hands before clasping them in my lap. "I don't know, ok?"
Malcolm's pale blue eyes remain focused on me as he tugs on the front of his shirt.
"I haven't really talked to him yet," I say carefully yet honestly. If I maneuver this right, he won't ask anymore questions. "I'm really just trying to figure out my next move after"—I grimace but force the words out—"what happened with Donny."
Malcolm nods slowly. "Sure," he says.
Nibbling my bottom lip, I nod, too, and look down at my hands.
"So tell me more about this rave of yours."
Despite myself, I smile and roll my eyes. "It's not a rave," I grumble.
Malcolm smirks at me when I look up at him.
That wasn't so bad. Maybe we can be just friends after all.
~~~~~~~
A/N: I apologize for the very delayed update -- winter quarter has been super hectic. Also, I know, it's a short chapter. But I'm already working on the next chapter and it's already shaping up to be longer. Hopefully it won't be so long again before I post. :)
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Marney in the Middle
FanfictionA Malcolm in the Middle fanfiction. After fifteen-year-old Marney Dillon moves to a new town in Southern California, her sister decides it's the perfect opportunity for her to remake herself. She'll trade fantasy writing for jewelry, role playing fo...