Butterfly Years

Chapter 12

Boys are bipolar.

One word to describe boys? Bipolar.

Here’s an example. A boy decides to keep you up till late at night, just to watch a movie. The both of you have fun together, but then for the rest of the week, said boy ignores you.

Boys are bipolar.

Ryan, true to the BAB law, avoided me like the flu for the rest of the week. Sometimes I felt like whacking him upside his head with a hammer, and at other times I tried ignoring him as well. Naturally, the latter was easier…but not entirely enjoyable.

“Hope you haven’t forgotten about today, little octopus,” Tia informed me, pouring a grey liquid into a new beaker.

I looked around the chemistry lab at our classmates’ results, before glancing at the board. “Um, Tee,” I began, “Shouldn’t our potion by green by now?”

Tia winked at me. “Trust me on this, chica,” she said, setting the beaker down near the tap, “We’re doing this the Miranda way.”

She snapped her fingers, before pulling out a new beaker and filling it with water. Then, she whipped out a bottle from underneath her lab coat and squeezed a couple of drops from it into the beaker full of water. Immediately, the water turned into the necessary shade of green.

“Is food colouring allowed?” I asked Tia cautiously, looking around to check if anyone witnessed that little scene.

“Does it matter?” she countered, smiling wickedly as she set our masterpiece in the middle of the table and stepped back. “Mission accomplished,” she declared, wiping her hands down her lab coat.

I giggled, imitating her. There are only two people who can’t be influenced by Tia. I’m not one of them.

“So is the sleepover still on?” Tia asked, once our ‘experiment’ was approved by our science teacher. I couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty over it. It wasn’t exactly our science teacher’s fault that she believed Tia’s little food colouring act. Once again, there are two people who can’t be influenced by Tia, and none of our teachers were one of them.

I sighed. “Yeah, but you know the drill. Lights off by eleven, wake up by eight. No midnight snacks, gossiping or both.”

Mom.

“And we’re still doing all of the above,” Tia stated, flipping through a magazine she fished out from her bag. 

“Naturally,” I muttered, smirking as I sat on a lab stool next to her and peeked over her shoulder at her magazine.

“No way!” Tia gasped, staring at a picture of some celebrity or the other, “She’s pregnant!”

Again.

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Random Question: If mom’s in the kitchen and I’m in my bedroom, can there be an equation showing that no matter the circumstances, mom will always be the first to answer the door bell?

“Tia!” mom’s strained voice echoed through the living room as I ran out of my room.

“I’m so sorry!” I mouthed at my best friend as my mother began chatting her up. I walked up to Tia and grabbed her overnight bag, tugging her hand as I shot mom a look.

“Mom, we have homework to do. This is more of a study group than a sleepover. We really need to get all that homework done. Can we head to our room?”

“Yeah, Ms. June, we have tons of papers to complete and projects to discuss. We should really get a head start on it all.”

Oh Tia and Syaz, you dirty little liars.