Torn » h.s./marcel

Chapter 22: The "Date"

Chapter 22: The "Date"

Marcel's POV

"A DATE?!" my mother shrieked. "You're going on a DATE?! And Allie asked YOU!! Oh my goodness, I--"

"Mother!" I shouted over her. "It's not a date! Allie and I are just going someplace nice to talk and hang out so we can know each other better."

"Marcel, that's the definition of a date," my mother said matter-of-factly.

"Well, I know for a fact that it isn't a date," I stated confidently.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Allie already has a boyfriend. So why would she go out with me?"

"Maybe she's cheating."

"Mother!"

"And all of those other reasons you said before. To talk and hang out and know each other better--"

"Mum, just be quiet!" I said, annoyed. "It isn't a date, and that's that."

"Then why do you look so nice?"

I looked down. I was wearing a dark green embroidered sweater, khakis, and my favorite pair of loafers. It didn't seem like much to me.

"I always want to look nice for Allie," I said, looking back up.

"Aw!" my mother cooed, pinching my cheeks. "My little baby's in love!"

"No, I'm not!" I shot back and pushed her hands away. "I'm not in love! It's just a stupid crush. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go put some more gel in my hair."

As I ran up the stairs, my mother called after me, "Someday you'll have applied so much gel, your hair'll stay like that forever!"

"Good!" I retorted. I hated my hair.

I stood at my bathroom counter and grabbed my gel bottle. This one was halfway empty. I had an unopened one in the closet in case I ran out.

I squirted about half a quarter into my hand since my hair was already pretty gelled. I smoothed it down some more and washed my hands when I was done.

I might as well shave my head till I was completely bald. Yeah, that sounded good. I could join the Navy or the army. I could do something with my life.

But I was far too intelligent for that. I would probably start my own business or be some marketing guy. I liked marketing.

I checked the time on my watch. It was almost 5:00pm. I wondered if Allie would be on time or "fashionably late". I kind of wanted to wait by the door, but that would seem creepy and desperate. Wouldn't it?

I went into my room and took out the lyric sheet. I had suggested the "Now I'm floating like a butterfly" lyric. Allie had pointed out that was rather girly, but I told her she would be singing that part. She readily agreed.

That lyric meant something to me. It was special. It reflected my feelings on this life and how much I wanted to get away from it. It also reminded me of a certain scar I had, right on my--

The doorbell rang. My heart leaped in my chest. She was here! Allie was here!

"Marcel!" my mother yelled, but she didn't need to say anything else. I was already bounding down the stairs as fast as I could.

"I'll answer the door, alright?" I said pointedly.

My mother held up her hands in surrender and took a step away from the door. I rubbed my hands together and took a deep breath. I opened the door.