More Than Just a Krelboyne Friend

Chapter 8- The Dewmyster

Heather opened her door to see a monkey-eared, blonde boy who, she could sense, was related to Malcolm by the smokey/peanut buttery smell radiating from the boy's corduroys. In a moment she remembered what Malcolm had been telling her about his family-- let's see; an older brother-- Frank, was it?-- who had been sent to military school and now worked a dude ranch; there was Reese, the infamous school bully yet a zaddy nonetheless, she thought; and, yes-- Dewey! Dewey was the boy she was thinking of! Intuitive..sexy...talented...creative....

"Guh.. stop looking at me like that?" Dewey mumbled, squinting at the drooling Heather slouching in the doorway. She was brought back down to Earth suddenly-- she hadn't realized she was physically gawking over this handsome fella.

"Haha.. uhm sorry about that.." Heather gulped. She macked her lips together and felt the excess blueberry pancake in her teeth rub against her tongue. She said, "What can I do for you?",  looking confusedly at the basketball he was squeezing anxiously in his fists.

He looked up at Heather with his big pleading blue eyes. He smiled like a baby, a classic Dewmyster tactic used to manipulate people into getting people to do things for him. He turned on the lisp.

"Well, I need help with a tetht I have in a few dayth, and Malcolm thaid you're the only Krelboyne who'th not a total weirdo. I wath wondering if you could meet me in the park at 5? I'd athk Malcolm but I don't think he'th happy with--"

"DEWEY!" A roaring call echoed from outside. Heather looked past Dewey at a muddy figure coming down the street, marching towards the house. Before Heather could even piece together who it was coming down the lane, Dewey let out a high-pitched "EEEEEEE!" that broke every wine glass in Heather's kitchen. He then fled the scene waving his arms behind his back, and Heather missed his presence instantly. She felt as if she had no purpose now that Dewey was not with her.

Her sudden sorrow distracted her from the mud monster coming closer, so when she almost turned back inside and heard a "Heather, wait!" in what she recognized now as Malcolm's voice, she was a bit startled. She turned back to face the road and went onto the sidewalk to meet Malcolm. There he was, covered in brown muck. She took one whiff and realized it was not mud she was viewing on Malcolm-- it was dookie!!!

She jumped back. "Yeesh, Malc! What have you been doing?!" She pinched her nose.

Malcolm grunted furiously. Waving his fist he shouted, "I'LL tell you what I've been doing! I was minding my own business in my backyard just shooting hoops when DEWEY comes up to me and takes the basketball! I threaten him and it doesn't work and he starts running down the street with my ball! So I was chasing him for several blocks when he finally stops, and I charge at him and then he MOVES at the last second and IIII FALL INTO A GARGANTUAN PILE OF DOOKIE HE'S BEEN  MOLDING FOR WHO KNOWS HOW LONG!"  Malcolm raged. He huffed and puffed but gave up his fury, realizing that Heather could do nothing.

Heather had been backing up slowly towards her front door during the story because of the stench, and slight fear of Malcolm's anger. She cleared her throat. "Could you tell Dewey for me that I can?"

Malcolm furrowed his brows. "What? Can what? What did he say to you?" he spat out quickly.

Heather had to come up with a lie to ensure that Malcolm wouldn't ruin her little rendezvous with Dewey. "Oh, he just asked me if I can.. start walking with you every day after school! He wants to be more independent haha, what a cutie right! Just make sure you say the words I can, please."

Malcolm let go over his anger towards Dewey. He was doing Malcolm a favor, he thought. He couldn't see through Heather's lie.

Heather was back on her porch at this point, back turned to Malcolm, about to walk in the house. Lastly, the boy called out, "Oh, great...we'll talk later, see you at 5 right?"

Heather's eyes widened. She gulped and turned back toward him. "Yep! 5 p.m.! See you at the arcade!" She laughed and went inside. She sighed and pressed her back up against the closed door. She could feel no pity for lying to Malcolm and setting him up to be stood up. And she could feel no guilt for doing the same with Dabney, or not calling Lloyd back. For her mind and heart were set on her plans for her evening, and she couldn't be happier. Just thinking about Dewey's irresistible and affable character was enough to make Heather weak in the knees, and weak her knees were indeed was.