Morphine

Chapter Thirty

Michael the Fourth climbed in the van. "You're excited for your second date with Parker?"

Artie nodded. "Yeah, she's cool."

Michael looked at him. "You sound queer."

"You gotta stop saying that. I keep telling you that means something else here."

"Yeah, I know but it doesn't make any sense. It's rude."

"Yeah, yeah, you're for the rights of all living things."

"You still sound down." Michael wasn't distracted.

Artie sighed. "I don't know. I think I might need a girl's perspective."

"Call Mercedes Catherine. You've talked to Marceline Anne, right? Even Santana might help you. I know she comes off as uncaring but I don't believe that."

Artie blushed accidentally.

Michael raised a brow. "Is it about Santana?"

Artie twitched. "No!"

"I think it is."

Artie parked in front of Mercedes Catherine's house. "Don't say anything, alright?"

"My lips are sealed. But you know I'm always here for you, right?" Michael put his hand on Artie's shoulder.

Artie calmed somewhat. "I know. Now go get yo girl."

M-

"Don't you want to go on a double date?" Malcolm slid a look to his wife.

"For what?" Marceline Anne didn't get that.

"Isn't that what all girls like?"

"No."

He was tickled by her expression of disgust. "I think you do."

She gave him an unamused look.

He grinned.

"You're lucky you're cute." She faced forward again.

"You think I'm cute?"

"I can see you're cute."

He smiled. "I think you're cute, too."

"No shit I'm cute."

He laughed. "Are you vain?"

"Very much so." She parked and turned off her car.

"No, you're not."

"Okay, boy scout. Keep ignoring the signs."

"I was a boy scout."

She scoffed. "Figures..."

"You weren't a girl scout?"

"Do I look like I was a girl scout?"

"Look, yes. Act, no."

She sent him a withering look. "Yes, I was a girl scout."

He gave her an amused face. "We were both scouts."

She leaned over and kissed him. "Get out of my car."

He laughed and they exited.

M-

Santana smiled. Her face hurt from smiling so much but she had to so she wouldn't look like a shrew to this poor boy, who'd done nothing to her.

She'd learned her lesson.

Mark Saunders was a nice enough boy but he was boring. He didn't have any quick remarks or a sharp wit. He didn't get what she said. He wouldn't even look her in the eyes.