Sorry - I haven't written for 2 WEEKS. Yeah, I had writer's block, the severe type. I think this chapter is a bit longer - but almost completely pointless. But, anyway, enjoy etc etc.
PS: In case you don't remember, Marley Coleman is Paige's best friend.
-Chapter 3-
Marley Coleman
"Paige, you have to tell me more," I cried "Pleease".
"Marley, I've already told you everything there is." Paige said. A faint red crept up her neck, a surefire sign of her lying.
"You know, I'm afraid you don't tell me much." I said, leaning closer while I steepled my hands, psychiatrist-style. "In order for this friendship to work, you have to tell me more about your life." I added.
She blinked.
"Right." She ignored my random act of psychiatric-ism.
"Just tell me, will you?!"
"Okay, okay." She licked her spoonful of ice cream clean, and then repeated what happened the day before.
"So you know how he caught me leaving the Yearbook-er meeting, right?" I nodded dutifully "Well, after that he asked me if I'd like to have a walk in the park." Then she smiled "And then --" She broke off abruptly.
I narrowed my eyes. What was she about to say?
"Paige..." I said, "You were saying?"
She then looked all panicked and flighty, looking at everything except me. After a while, I could see her expression slowly give in.
"Well, if you must know," she said blushingly and hastily, "he and I... we... erm... sort of.... made out?"
There was a moment's pause, and then I squealed.
That made Paige stare daggers at me and caused a few people to turn their heads in our direction.
I ignored them. I was so happy for Paige. Ever since Rick, her last jerk of a boyfriend, happened, she's gone all hermit-nun on every member of the opposite sex that dares approach her bubble of hermit-nun-ness. She's my best friend and I love her, but methinks she needs to go out more.
"Marley, stop it," she said red-faced, "don't draw any more attention than you already are." We acknowledged my hot pink-and-black ensemble of miniskirt, patterned tights and pink leopard-print coat. I was the only person in this town that wears these sorts of things. Paige was more or less growling by then.
It sounds weird written down, but trust me, you do NOT want Paige Castell growling at you.
"Paige, do you have any idea how amazingly cool this is?" I semi-whispered "For you, and your street cred?"
"Street cred? What the-"
"And I'm going to ignore the little fact that you failed to mention that vital piece of information when we were talking earlier," I said, easily interrupting Paige, "and say how happy I am for you."
We were beaming at each other now. The sugar from our ice creams and the changed status of Paige's love life made us high.
"You know what this calls for?" I grinned wickedly. "Another round of ice cream, please!" I asked the passing waitress, who was startled from my sudden exclamation.
"Um, miss? This isn't a bar." She replied, trying not to sound impolite or impatient, both of which are complete no-nos in the policy of Sun-day's waitressing.
I looked her up and down. Her nametag read 'Hello! My name is Sasha!' in bright pink bubble letters. She looked quite young - maybe 20 - medium height, a good complexion. She had a cascade of red ringlets tumbling down her back. That, and Sun-days' uniform - cotton-candy-pink, pinstriped sundresses and a jaunty, cap-like thing patterned with ice cream toppings that made calling it a hat an insult to hats all over - made her quite an eyeful. I don't know what made me do it, but I always seem to be doing that. Analyzing, I mean. To everyone.
