Dylan

Sleepy's Wake Up

A lot of people like me, and I think just as many people hate me. It's confusing, to say the least.

"How's your day?" Dylan asks as we trudge across the school grounds to his car. 

I scratch my head. "Uh...interesting?" I wave a hand around. "Apparently I've already finished the math syllabus for the entire year. And the scientific experiments. And--hmm..." I tap my chin. "Now that I think about it, they're probably going to place me one year ahead."

Dylan smirks. "So you're gonna be a year ahead of me, birth buddy?"

I snort. "I thought you said I can't say those words? Does that rule not apply to you?"

"Mer," Dylan rolls his eyes. "I said not in school."

I wave my hand around again. "We're still in school."

Dylan gives me the usual exasperated look and I grin back. Just then a group of cheerleaders--squadron? Team? Posse?--squeal when they see Dylan and they bounce their way up to us perkily. Dylan groans and I smirk. Poor guy, tortured to have so many girls after him. 

"Hi Dylan!" one of them thrill excitedly. Well, make that most of them. Okay, all of them. Dylan turns his head and glares off into the distance. I'm curious. Going the distance? Does he see Mount Olympus when he stares that hard and that far?

"Hey!" one of them burst out, pointing at me. "I know you! You forgot your textbook in history! I shared my book with you, remember?"

Hmm...I stare at her vaguely. "Yeah, maybe? I don't really remember."

"For someone so smart, you sure are damn forgetful," Dylan smirks at me before turning away to give a bored look at nothing again. 

I point at myself. "Excuse me, mister, but the more intelligent a person is, the more forgetful they are!"

The cheerleaders giggle somewhat nervously at the way I'm talking to Dylan. I've picked up things here and there, and I understand that Dylan sits on the throne at the very top of school hierarchy. Apparently people do not talk to Dylan this way. Ever. 

Dylan continues looking bored at nothing. 

"So anyway!" the history textbook cheerleader perks up. "How about joining the squad?"

Ah, a squad. I knew that. 

Wait, what? 

"Uh, like the cheerleading squad?" I clarify.

They nod at me enthusiastically while one or two of the cheerleaders giggle and touch Dylan's suspiciously muscular biceps. The two seem to be the leaders and they're trying to make conversation with Dylan, who has his expressionless look on. 

I nudge Dylan with my elbow, grinning. "Did you hear that? Should I be a cheerleader?"  I turn back to history textbook cheerleader. "What's your name? It's kinda tiring calling you history textbook cheerleader in my head."

She looks confused but smiles anyway and goes "I'm Carol. You're Merissa, right?"

I nod. "Yeah, that's me. So, about cheerleading--"

Dylan groans and shoves the girls off. He doesn't do it roughly, no one gets hurt, but it's effective. "Leave her alone, girls. She's not going to be a cheerleader." Then he puts a hand on my arm and practically drags me to the car. 

I twist around and salute them. "I'll come and try out! He doesn't speak for me!"

Dylan barks over his shoulder. "No one better let her cheer." 

I fume as he opens the door for me. "You serious? They're really not going to let me cheer. Why do people listen to you anyway? You're just Dylan."