Killer Queen|✔️ (Book 1)

8. Everything, All The Time

   When I woke up the next morning and looked at my phone. I had a two missed calls and a new voicemail. Someone had called at 2:00 A.M.                        

"Hello, Taylor Bryant? This is Keith with The Lion King fan club. We missed you at the meeting this week. If you could give us a call back, it'd be greatly appreciated."                                         

Even with the attempts to muffle and change his voice, I knew it was Kiwi. I couldn't believe he'd called. I thought he just wanted to exchange numbers to be polite, not to really talk. I assumed he'd be busy calling sluts and cheerleaders all night; not having time to bother with me. Not that I wanted him to bother with me, mind you. I wasn't the most social person on the eastern seaboard, if you hadn't picked up on that already.

                                                                

    

I'll spare you the mundane details of the day and get right to the cream filling. Classes went by as usual and Kiwi followed me around like a lost puppy, on the way to Religion and English again. After English, he accompanied me to my locker instead of going home. Since I didn't drive to school, I had to occupy myself through ninth period, until my bus came.
K: "Where do you go after this? I saw you waiting for the bus the other day; do you play a sport or have practice for something?"
T: "I considered doing softball freshman year, but practice was the same time as Dr. Phil, so I couldn't. My mom won't let me drive here, so I usually stand in the handicapped bathroom stall and listen to my iPod for forty-five minutes, until the bus comes. There's a lot of room to kick back and relax." 
K: "...Well that's fuckin' weird. Why don't you go to the art room? That's where everyone else goes who has to wait for the bus." 
T: "I didn't know it was open. Can you take me home? Where do you live?"
K: "I don't have a car, I walk here. I literally live down the street, but I'll walk you to the art room."

Upon arriving in the art room, I felt my phone start to vibrate. There were maybe seven other people in the room and they all flipped out when they saw Kiwi, like Elvis had risen from the dead and came to paint a picture. I took the opportunity to excuse myself from the hysteria and take the call in the sculpting room. It was Ally and I knew she never called unless it was urgent. She usually shot me a text if it was her run of the mill baby bullshit.           T: "Hey, bud."
A: "Hey...just wanted to see how you were holding up."
T: "What do you mean holding up? What happened?"
A: "I just checked Facebook, I thought you might've already seen it."
T: "Seen what, Al? What the hell is going on?"
A: "Dan read your message days ago but he didn't respond." 
T: "...I'll call you when I get home, I gotta go."