❂ CHAPTER ELEVEN ❂
After a horrible, busy, stress-ridden week, I more than deserved to unwind on the weekend. Instead of spending my morning in a relaxing spa or a nail salon, I started my Saturday shoveling horse shit.
Since that wasn't punishment enough, I also had to work alongside Peter. Janice claimed it would, "Teach us the importance of teamwork and companionship."
It was all horse shit.
Peter and I threw snide comments each chance we could, and since we worked alongside each other, it was most of the time. We were only civil during our breaks— only because Janice was with us— and by 'civil,' I meant silent; although, that was pretty civil in comparison to how Peter and I were alone.
After last week, both Peter and I held a silent agreement to never fight in front of Janice again since she had really torn into us. Did we learn our lesson: to set aside our difference and get along? No, but we learned a lesson: that was to never let Janice lose her shit.
Improvement.
As we sat silently, eating the meal Janice had prepared us, she stood behind the sink. I watched her as she dropped the eggs we had found in coup into a bowl of water. The ones that sank down were put in a recycled egg cartoon, while the ones that floated got tossed in the trash.
"That's how you know when they're rotten," she said when she caught me looking.
"Cool," I said neutrally, unsure of what else to say but also hating the uncomfortable silence. Not to worry, Janice kept the conversation going.
"So do you two have any plans this weekend?" She asked out loud. She dried her hands with a nearby rag and turned fully to look at us both.
"No," Peter said.
'Shocker,' I mouthed the words to him, smiling sweetly. He gave me a dry smile back.
"You, skinny?"
"Our school is having a water polo competition today." Which I'm missing because I'm in this hell, I thought bitterly. "Some of my friends are competing. Then we're all going to this party after."
"Why doesn't Peter go with you?" She boldly reckoned, arching her eyebrows.
Before I could respond, Peter said, "I'd rather not."
She frowned, the wrinkles in her large forehead rippling. "Why not?"
"Doesn't seem like fun to me," he said, shrugging and successfully living up to his reputation as a killjoy.
I almost scoffed, As if you're invited.
She turned to stare at him. Hands on hips, eyebrows raised, and mouth opened. "Pete, you're young! Enjoy it while it lasts because, trust me, it doesn't."
Peter grimaced with clear discomfort. "I just don't like parties. It seems like the point of it is to socialize and have fun but the more people there is in a group gathering, the harder it is to communicate. Having to circulate person-to-person is also stressful and makes for more shallow and brief conversations. Not much fun in that."
"Jeez, socializing doesn't mean getting a person's life story," I interjected with an eye roll. "Do you try to get every stranger you've crossed paths with their life story? Sometimes just having a laugh with some rando about dumb stuff is enough."
YOU ARE READING
If I Fell
Teen FictionI had it all: the brains, the beauty, the fortune, and the popularity. I was queenbee and valedictorian-- the Golden Girl of Jackson Woods High, but I was also known as a 'mean girl' to a selective some, mainly known as the losers. I was problematic...
