Torn » h.s./marcel

Chapter 21: Let Me In

Chapter 21: Let Me In

Allie's POV

I tried to sprint all the way to Marcel's house after school, but I ran out of breath before I got there. So I settled with a jog and decided to sprint the last block.

I was completely out of breath by the time I reached the front door. I knocked on the door weakly and put my hands on my knees, panting dramatically. When no one answered, I tried the doorbell. Then I heard people.

Mrs. Styles opened the door, Marcel right over her shoulder. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I got detention in Chemistry right after school so I had to get here alone? No? Well, now you know.

"Hi, Allie!" Mrs. Styles chirped. "Are you okay?"

"Just... fine," I gasped. "Can I... come in?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed and practically pushed me inside. Marcel shut the door behind us.

"Do you want to sit down for a moment or--" Mrs. Styles began, but I interrupted.

"I think Marcel and I should get started on the project immediately," I said. "Sorry, Mrs. Styles, but we don't have much time left."

"Oh no, that's okay," she said quickly. "You kids get going! I'll be up there later to give you a snack."

I nodded at her. "Thank you," I said.

Finally I could breathe properly again. But then I had to rush up the stairs, Marcel right behind me. I had to tell him something important.

As soon as the door shut, I said, "Marcel, I have to talk to you."

"Okay," he said slowly, frowning. "What about? The song?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Something else. I looked up 'stereotype' last night."

Marcel blanched. I knew it, he didn't actually think I would do it. "O-okay," he stammered. "So... what?"

"I want to say I'm sorry. Again," I added. "I don't know you. I thought you were just some nerd, but you're not. In all honesty, I don't know you at all. So I'm sorry for being stereotypical and discriminating against you."

"Wow, you even looked up 'discrimination'," he said.

I shrugged. "The 'stereotype' definition told me to. So, do you forgive me?"

He nodded right after I asked him. That didn't feel significant enough. He had to mean it.

"Marcel, seriously," I said in a pleading tone. "I want to be true friends with you. I want to know who YOU are, not the nerd. Okay? So can you please forgive me? For real?"

This time Marcel paused before answering. He didn't say anything. He got a look on his face as if he was thinking hard. After a second or two, he finally relaxed and said, "Okay. I forgive you. For real."

I grinned. "Thanks, Marcel," I said.

"But you know, there's a problem here," he said in his thinking voice.

I stiffened. "What problem?"

"I kind of proposed the very same idea at my club yesterday. They didn't believe me. They said they didn't want to ruin their reputation over something stupid like friends."

"Who's 'they'?"

"The members of the Advertising and Marketing Club."

I somehow managed to prevent myself from saying, "Told ya so!" That club definitely sounded like a nerd convention. But I wasn't supposed to be thinking like that anymore, so I pushed the urge away.