Head Strong.

Pierre. (Chapter 29.)

I kept running, in the opposite direction from last time. I found myself at a restaurant. I stopped. On a side angle, one of the waiters looked like an older version of Marc.

"Excuse me sir?" I said, walking up to him, and tapping him on the shoulder.

After he finished waiting the table he was waiter-ing at, of course.

"Clamshell, right? Marc told me you were coming."

"Yup, that's me."

"I heard what happened to Rayna. What would you like? It's on the house. Courtesy of Marc."

"What? No, I couldn't let him do that!" I exclaimed. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Pierre. Coco with whipped cream- wait, he also said your lactose intolerant... sandwich and soy coffee?" Pierre asked.

I nodded.

"Be right back." He winked.

"That's so sweet of Marc! I better call him!" I felt so special. He still did the little things.

"Hey, Marc? Is now a good time?" I asked.

"If my best bud is on the other line," He yawned, "Then anytime is a good time."

I smiled. "Thanks buddy. Your brother is nice. Thanks for telling Pierre I'm lactose intolerant. I didn't even know you had a brother!"

"That's ok. And the subject never popped up. Anyways, what's up?"

"Lance is a douche. That's the nicest way I can say it!"

"Slap him for both of us."

"Well, I've already punched him. Twice."

"Rock on girlfriend!" He said in a fake high-pitched voice.

I chuckled. "Thanks bud."

"Here you go! Oh, I'm on my lunch break- is that Marc on the phone?"

I nodded. "How did you know? Oh, do you want me to put it on loud speaker?"

"Yeah please!"

So I did.

"Hey bro!" They said in sync.

Pierre had obviously gotten an American accent, and Marc still had his Australian accent, so it sounded a little weird.

"Clamshell, what happened to your arm?" Pierre asked concerned and sternly, as he suddenly realized the bandage on my arm.

"What do you mean her arm?" Marc asked, sounding completely concerned, from the phone.

I quickly hid my arm under the table. "What are you on about?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Mhmm. Do you cut?"

"No...."

"Bobbi! That's it! When's the next flight to California?!" Marc practically yelled.

A few other people at other tables gave us stern looks.

I went crimson, "Stuff happens..." I trailed off.

I took a bite of the sandwich, hoping it would kill the awkwardness.

"Bro, ya don't need to come to the USA. I can look after your chicka." Pierre winked at me checkily.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Then the line died.

"He is so into you." Pierre laughed so hard he literally fell backwards off the chair.

I helped him up. "No he's not. He's just being a really good friend."

"Why are you chicka's so damn oblivious?!" He asked, slamming his fist on to the table. "Y'all get given the perfect guy, and y'all friend zone him! Why is this?!"

I jumped back. "Ok, Then how do you know that 'he's into me'?"

"Would he have told me it himself?" He asked, going into his phone, and into the voice memos app. "Oh yeah, he was sober when this happened."

He pressed play.

"So Marc, any chics you like at school?"

"Maybe."

"Name?"

"Bobbi Gustus."

I stopped. I took mouthful of coffee.

"He...No...That was acted-" I was stunned. "Technology these days. It's amazing what people can do! I bet that's photo shopped...but you know, for voice recordings? If that's even possible...?"

"Pierre! Breaks over!" A pretty red hair said from inside.

"Coming Anna!" He said, turning his head to inside the café. "He likes you, chicka." Then he left.

I finished eating and left a tip of five Australian dollars on the plate under the cup. Then left.

I didn't feel like going home, just yet.

"Maybe I can contact the Australian police agency from an American one? It's worth a shot- Oh fuck. That's a huge line." I was standing outside a police station.

 The line went out the door.

I turned back to the direction of home.

"Surely it's not that bad?" I thought, turning back.

The huge line was still there.

"Some other day." I vowed.