Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Pitch

EMERSON

Arsonist's Lullaby // Hozier

"So, handsome, how'd your first day go?"

A familiar voice draws my attention and I turn to face the blondie from this morning. I'm secretly glad she found me because I'd planned to keep my eyes open for her as soon as the bell rang. The need to find her and interrogate her about the girl with the purple beats has overwhelmed me all day.

But that flyer I've been eyeing has distracted me. That flyer hanging on the wall at end of the hall has stopped me in my tracks.

I look down at blondie who is eyeing me with open curiosity, making me realize I need to keep my own curiosity in her friend on the down low. I just have a feeling that showing too much overt interest will put little miss nosy on overdrive and honestly no guy needs that kind of help.

She wants to know about my first day. For the most part, it sucked as expected. What was unexpected was the girl in the hallway with the words and intense eyes, but instead of admitting that, I keep my tone neutral and answer, "Typical."

She nods her head, but eyes me hard. I don't get the feeling that she's checking me out, more like she's giving me a visual evaluation.

She doesn't say a word, just keeps staring. "What?" I finally ask, only semi-curious what's on her mind, but if its something that shakes her off of the matchmaker trail I'm fine with a new line of questions.

"Nothing, really. Just that you seem less disgusted then this morning. So "typical" couldn't really be an accurate description of your day." Her head tilts to one side and her eyes narrow.

Shit. She's more observant than I gave her credit for this morning. Awesome. I've got a five-foot blonde psychic trying to sniff me out. How the hell did I end up in this place, with this chick seeing right through every wall I've put up to keep myself hidden away? What the fuck even is my life?

I wonder, for the millionth time what my dad's response would be if he ever realized in what direction my deepest darkest desires ran. I know with certainty that he would despise and probably disown a son who admitted he wanted a career in music. Kicked out of the house would be the worst scenario, more likely his solution to straighten me out would be military school. Biding my time has always been the plan. Waiting until I'm old enough to be on my own to do what I want, has been the goal, but I'm kind of over the game I've always played at this point, acting unaffected by the world around me. Like now, with blondie, trying to act like I don't give a shit about the girl in the headphones who I haven't been able to get out of my head the entire day.

I look down at those inquisitive and searching eyes and I make a split second decision: ask the little blondie what I really want to know and then try to make a quick escape.

Before I can second guess myself I say it. "What's Zoe's story?"

The knowing look on Chelsea's face makes me want to groan. But it's too late. I asked so now I straighten my shoulders preparing myself for the onslaught of questions I'm sure are about to head my way.

A shit-eating grin spreads across her face. "Called it, SMH. I knew your morning drool was in direct correlation to my girl."

"Did you...just say s-m-h? Like, the letters?" Who talks like that?

Blondie just shrugs. "It's a quirk. You'll get used to it, everyone does." She gives me a knowing smile. "But back to the issue at hand. You want the deets on Zoe and I'm here to provide them." She reaches out and gives me shoulder a slight smack. "I have a good feeling about you, Em." Then her eyes swing away from me. "WTF?"