Alex Strike

2. "Brook"

It was midnight. Exactly with twelve strikes of the clock. The number twelve flashing in the window of a nearby car.

I walked towards the porch of the Hoover's home. I paced back and forth to keep myself from freezing half to death.

"When is she going to get here?" I said to myself, but just loudly enough for Mrs. Hoover to hear.

A bright porch light came on, and Mrs. Hoover came out. She was carrying at least four blankets, and was bundled up in several coats. She placed on over my shoulders, and handed me a hot cup of coffee.

"I thought I told you not to wait for Ivy, Alexander."

There was a silence. A dead silence after her words. I kept staring down the calm street. Waiting, waiting ever so patiently, waiting for Ivy. Why exactly I will never know. I will never know.

"Alexander, you've gone into one of your freezes again, boy." Mrs. Hoover shook me, and I broke my almost forever holding stare to look down at her. "Do you want to come inside?"

"No, I can't. I have to be here." My eyes went back to looking down the street.

"Whatever floats your boat, but I'll be inside once your ready to come in." She slowly shuffled her way into her house as the sound of houseshoes faded back into dead silence.

The crickets chirped, the stars glowed so brightly they shunned through the dense clouds and the streets grew brighter. Brighter with two lights, car lights. They were turning the corner, and were coming down the street.

My face lit up, my heart skipped a beat, and I ran to the porch and put the blanket down. The car stopped outside the yard on the street and a teenage girl got out.

She was pale as the moon. Her long hair was a light teal that matched her eyes. She was wearing her signature pink lip gloss that looked like it didn't belong.

My baseball cap flew off my head and landed at her feet. She bent over and picked it up.

"First Strike!" She put my hat on her head. "The original black one is still alive, even after all the pain you've put it through, eh?"

I grabbed her duffel bag, and rolling suitcase. "You mean what torture you've put it through, Brook. I mean the poor hat gets ruined by that dirty water." I pointed to her.

Ever since we were little we looked up our last names. Rivera meant stream or brook. Her last name was passed down through generations. So I called her "The Streams Legacy" or "Brook".

My last name was Strike. Aunt Valentina had picked it. She said her son had died during a hunger strike. My last name was to remember him. Besides my father's last name was pretty similar, Stroke.

So that was our running joke. Our last names ruined, but a smile brought to our faces. Not so much of a win for a win, you could say.

Ivy ran over to me and threw the hat at my face. She then ran into the house. Leaving me to carry in her things.

Mr. Hoover chuckled, "she's a wild one, ain't she?"

"Yes sir. Very wild." I picked up my hat, dusted it off, and put it back on.

He went into the house and grabbed two large suitcases. "See you two in fall. Wanda and I are leaving for the summer." Within a few seconds Mr. and Mrs. Hoover we gone.

"A little heads up would have been nice." I said to myself, and walked into the house.

Once I had put Ivy's suitcases in the corner of her room. She locked the door, took off her jacket, and threw it across the room.

"Ivy, what are you doing?" I walked towards the door, but every time I tried to unlock it she pushed me back. Each time she pushed me a little harder. "Brook, stop and let me out."

"Are you ordering me to do something, old man?" She looked up at me, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot.

"Yes, I am. Now you will  move and let me out, or else." I started to mock her, by crossing my arms.

"No way, little boy. Make me." She backed up, dropped the key down her bra, and sat on the ground. "See you won't, little boy, and you can't make me."

"Little boy? I can't make you?  We'll see you about that!" I picked her up over my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" She started hitting my back.

"Your grandparents just left, and now your mine to do whatever I want with." I smacked her butt, and threw her on the couch.

"Alex, you're a pervert!" She got up and sat on her knees.

"I know. Now hand me the key or I'll get it myself." I crossed my arms, and looked down at her.

"Hmm, I'm tempted to see what you do."

"Strike!  You cheater! That's not fair!" Ivy pulled a plush throw over her torso.

"Well, I got the key back. So it is fair." I laughed, but I had won yet lost. Now we're both sexually frustrated.

"Alex Strike, your just a dick. I guess you have to be to make up for your lack of a cock." She smirked.

"Excuse me? What did you just say?" She was asking for it.

"You heard me." She was most certainly asking for it. So without another word we carried out the dirty deed.