|
Post by Lainey Carson on Jun 24, 2006 11:56:38 GMT -4
She struggled to keep her mouth closed, to look normal, and kept her mouth on her soda straw the whole time. Not only was he kicked out of his house because of his powers, but he’d been on the streets, for months, begging for food. All of a sudden she felt lucky. She couldn’t even imagine not having a home or having to beg for food. In a way, she was extremely lucky she was so independent; leaving home hadn’t been that hard. She hadn’t felt guilty about taking her mother’s money, in fact it was almost a one up on her along with going to a school she had been forbidden to go to. So there. What would it have been like to be in a family that loved you one day, and shunned you the next? She shuddered thinking about it.
This boy had just opened up a part of himself to her, telling her a story that he wasn’t completely comfortable with yet. And what was she doing? Sipping Diet Coke. Thinking how hard it must have been. She didn’t really know what to do. Should she offer her own story? Even though that would be the fair thing to do, she knew she couldn’t. She was angry at herself. What a nice thing to do, ask a personal question like hat, make things uncomfortable. Way to go Lainey. You’re a really great person.
“Wow,” she said mostly to herself, and then to him, “I’m really sorry. That was too personal. I shouldn’t have asked.”
But it seemed like he had moved on okay from that part of the conversation. He started talking about Jade, how she didn’t deserve to be on the team. Lainey fully agreed. Jade’s powers were to blow things up, and she blocks off all emotion so she doesn’t have to use them, right? But when something happens and she loses control, those powers are unleashed and ruin their House. She never used them in Combat or when she’s fighting. Could she do anything else? Was that it? Why did the Dean put her on the Team? Potential? As if. Jade had as much potential as someone on a treadmill—running forever and getting nowhere. It really didn’t make sense how she got the fancy House, the responsibilities, and all the built in perks, but didn’t do anything.
Lainey laughed, “I’ll make sure to do that. And you’re right, you’re powers are more developed and you’re easier to work with. Maybe we can bribe the Dean to kick her off or something.”
The waitress returned, asked them if they wanted dessert or coffee. She shook her head, and the check was delivered. But she didn’t really want to get up right now. Lainey was comfortable just sitting here and talking. She was getting used to his company, and he was nice. A little immature, yes, but sixteen year old boys are always immature. They’re normally only thinking about one thing and about how to get it. And she was sure Flick had getting laid on the top of his list like every other guy, but he had personality and he was fun. And it seemed like he’d never be all over someone if they didn’t want him to be. He had manners.
“Well, what else is there to do?” she asked, sipping the last of her Diet Coke. She began wondering if he wanted to spend time by himself now. Lainey had intruded on him sitting on a bench by himself and maybe he’d been thinking. Maybe he’d needed that time. She slapped her twenty on the table, then looked around. “Or we could head back to the Academy. Or I could head back, because you might have been doing something before I came, and then I just showed up and dragged you to lunch.”
|
|
The Amazing Flick
Full Member
I am awesome, and you know it...your just jealous because even when I shrink mines bigger than yours
Posts: 126
|
Post by The Amazing Flick on Jun 25, 2006 18:54:44 GMT -4
Jeremy felt kind of stupid. He should have just said it was an awkward story to tell and carried on. He could tell he had made her slightly uncomfortable and her uncomfort spread to him. This was...well uncomfortable. He never delt well in settings that were light hearted ones. One of things he had a great distaste for, were tears. He was never sure how to deal with anyone who was crying. So he always ended up just patting them on the back with an open palm and looking for someone who would take his place. Joking, story tellings, pranks or regular teenage conversation he was fine with. But not this stuff. Nothing that could make people sad.
"Its ok, I shouldn't have answered."
He said giving a meek smile and looking at the ice in his drink. So where to go from here. He cleared his throat and looked up at her with a regular, flickeroo smile. He had to do something, say something, instead of just sitting there like a grinning fool. Enter the waitress. Oh thank god, a break in the perpetual awkward silence. Jeremy flashed a 'thank you' smile at her and glanced at the bill, terribly wrinkled and wadded up money from his pocket and spreading it out on the table, before setting it down ontop of the bill and slapping an extra three dollars and fifty cents down for a tip.
"Trust me, talking to you is alot more fun than talking to myself. I can pretty obnoxious and your a very pretty change from being alone with me."
Did that make any sense? It had inside his head. With a shrug he stood up out of his both and followed her out of the dinner and back into the street. What was there to do around here? God it was Manhatten. There was...
"Well, shopping. Um theres an arcade a couple blocks down, we could take the metro to time square or rockefeller center but you prolly want to stay close to the school. Um, theres an ice skating rink somewhere around here. Ice cream. An art gallery, uhhh a few bars."
He had to throw the last one in there. Most of the kids at Hawthorne were terrible drinkers, but they liked to go out and get wasted anyway. Flick himself had been drinking since he was about twelve and could out drink almost the heaviest guy in school, and he had three stomachs. Hawthorne liked to drink so much, they even had their own personal supplier of booze and fake id's. He had one, it was his picture on "Theodore Worthington Esquires" ID. The man was 22. Did this skinny sixteen year old boy LOOK anywhere near 22? No.
"Just depends on how much time you have and what your in the mood for I reckon."
|
|
|
Post by Lainey Carson on Jun 25, 2006 21:39:39 GMT -4
She smiled. Did he just call her pretty? And yes, by now she was glowing from a completely unexpected compliment as they crossed the street and Flick ticked off what they could do. She wasn’t a huge art lover, although every once in awhile she did feel like an art trip. Ice cream sounded good, but she had just eaten. She could probably stuff it in if needed. Ice skating sounded fun, although she hoped she wouldn’t make a huge fool out of herself. Except one thing stuck out to her: bars. Who didn’t like the bar? The never ending flow of drinks, the occasional table dance, the way all your inhibitions were left at the door. The bar sounded like the perfect way to end a successful day with a fun guy.
“I’ve got all the time in the world,” she said, grinning. “Let’s go to a bar.”
Problem Number One: getting in. Not only was she short, her face just didn’t have the look of an adult. Sure, she could pass off seventeen or eighteen at the most, but twenty-one? Hardly. She didn’t have a fake ID or any ‘friends’ that could help her get in. And she certainly wasn’t Blair who could manipulate anyone to let her in. She was just a normal underage girl, or as normal as a superhero could get. Her powers couldn’t help her out at all in this situation, unless she wanted to hurt someone, which wouldn’t be a smart thing. And as Flick lead their way down the street, heading to a bar, Lainey brought herself to…
Problem Number Two: watching what she said. Lainey, despite her size, was not a light weight. Her powers had given her a boost, an unexplained tolerance for pain and any pain to her body—like alcohol. She could withstand drinks like a large adult male could. Except that made it hard for her to even reach a buzz. And by the time she started, she probably wouldn’t be able to stop. She was a happy drunk, but even they can reveal things they’d rather not like anyone else to know. For example: “My dad’s the Devil, the most evil guy on Earth. You’ve heard of him right?” And although she was small, cute, and relatively harmless looking, the coincidences would pile up, and suddenly everyone would know, including Seth, and that would be the end of everything. No one would trust her anymore. It would only get worse from there.
Problem Number Three: feeling good. Now, who could deny that the sting of alcohol surging through their veins doesn’t make them feel free? She always felt like she could fly, take on the world. The feeling would last for awhile, and slowly, but surely it would fade. Enter: the hangover. Hers, since she always seemed to be thick with alcohol seemed to be more intense and painful, even with her powers taking it down a few notches. But since she needed so much more to feel good, it hurt so much more when she finally came down from Cloud Nine. And sure, she dreaded the pounding headache, the way she could barely move her body from her bed, and the way she talked back to anyone who looked at her, the feeling during intoxication was one she treasured. And that scared her.
No, she was not and never had been an alcoholic. She’d never gotten alcohol poisoning or felt like she “needed it.” But the feeling while she was intoxicated was real, tangible. Growing up independent and by herself, had made her lose things she hadn’t even realized. And alcohol seemed to give her those memories and those feelings that she’d never had. It filled in the many gaping holes in her childhood and her daily life. So of course, when Flick had said bars, her mind had jarred. She’d been excited. Suddenly she’d be able to feel the things she’d lost and experience it with someone new. What wasn’t to like?
But back to Problem Number One.
“How are we going to get in?”
Security was always tight. Lainey had never even thought about the idea of trying to push through the bouncers. They could easily step on her and laugh. All she could hope for was that it was ‘Ladies Night’ or Flick was friends with someone at the door. All unlikely, but as she linked arms with the blonde boy, she felt assured and confident, like nothing could go wrong. Everything would be okay. It had to be.
And problems two and three? She’d deal with those later.
|
|
The Amazing Flick
Full Member
I am awesome, and you know it...your just jealous because even when I shrink mines bigger than yours
Posts: 126
|
Post by The Amazing Flick on Aug 1, 2006 11:54:46 GMT -4
you know how many times I've started a post and then i had to delete it? it's driving me crazy, I'll try to post now
|
|
The Amazing Flick
Full Member
I am awesome, and you know it...your just jealous because even when I shrink mines bigger than yours
Posts: 126
|
Post by The Amazing Flick on Aug 1, 2006 13:03:27 GMT -4
Jeremy Swanson could have just watched her for the rest of his life. True, he didn't know her that well. True, she could be some psycho murdering temptress from beyond the grave. True, she could be the most boring person in the world. But true, she might have been one of the most attractive girls he had ever seen in his life. He watched her glancing around, her hair shimmering as she turned her head. He watched her eyes as she wondered what to choose.
“Let’s go to a bar.”
Jeremy could have done a backflip he was so excited. ok so she wasn't the most boring person in the world. The most boring person in the world would have said Gee golly jeepers, lets go to the library! Actually if they said gee golly jeepers that might be too interesting. But we're wondering. Anyway. Flick tried to his his excitment but it snuck up in the corners of his lips, a grin spreading from ear to ear. One eyebrow raised and he looked at her with big blue eyes.
"You mean...you don't have one yet?"
God was this adorable. HOw innocent she was. How are we going to get in? They could make a Lainey Carson doll, dress her in a little yellow sundress and give her overly exageratted rosey cheeks. How are we going to get in? Maybe they shold take her back in time to a 50's sitcom, she'd be quiet cute in a poodle skirt and pigtails. How are we going to get in? How was it, that shes been there the amount of time she has and no one told her about the ID man. Flick reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open and passing it to her.
"Theodore Worthington Esquire at your service madame."
He said with a low bow and a wink. He stood up and crossed his arms proudly over his chest as if he just won some gold medal.
"We can get you one, you just gotta be sure this is something you really want."
(Complete shit, i was on the phone and then couldn't think of anything once I got off the phone)
|
|
|
Post by Lainey Carson on Aug 1, 2006 22:08:59 GMT -4
He grinned at her and those big blue eyes teased her at the same time. She pouted. Had she done something wrong? Said something wrong? God, Lainey, how naïve could you be? And then he asked the question. You mean you don’t have one yet? One what exactly? Why did he expect her to have one? She tilted her head, shook it, felt her face getting warm. Lainey predicted her cheeks would be turning a nice pink color right about now. She wasn’t used to getting embarrassed. It was one of the most uncomfortable feelings for her because she didn’t have control over the situation; she didn’t know what was going on or what was coming next. No, she wasn’t a control freak, but that feeling of uneasiness should always be reserved for fights. She was used to feeling it in combat, having to train her mind to expect the worst and trusting her reflexes to keep her safe no matter what happened. But this was just an ordinary situation and she really didn’t know what to do. So she crossed her arms and watched the boy talk.
He pulled out an ID and gave it to her. She looked at it thoughtfully. It definitely wasn’t his name and it wasn’t like Flick was twenty two already. Who would possibly fall for that? But it looked real. And maybe for a bouncer who really didn’t care who was getting inside it would do. She raised her eyebrow at his proposal. If it’s something she really wanted…She bit her lip.
“Sure,” she said confused, then added a smile. “You make it sound like I’m signing my life away or something.”
Maybe he had just said it because if one was caught with a fake ID, you could get in serious trouble. Probably not as serious as driving under the influence or something like that, but it was a mark on your permanent record. Not that hers really mattered anyway. And even if the Dean ended up finding out about her fake ID she could make some kind of excuse that she was doing it for the Team. It had been an investigation and she needed a fake ID to fool people, to get into places where she shouldn’t be, to follow someone. If he didn’t buy that story, it wasn’t like he’d send her out of Hawthorne Academy. The Dean was the kind of guy who picked people up off the streets, not the kind that threw them back on. He’d probably give her a slap on the wrist and a few detentions at most. Plus, she was on the Team. It must give her leverage somehow, right?
“So let’s do this,” she said grinning, letting him lead the way to wherever they were going. “We’re gonna have fuuun.”
She could really use a drink right about now. And she wouldn’t mind dancing away the calories that drink would add. And she wouldn’t mind dancing with Flick, either, that is if he was up for it. It would just be up to him to keep up with her. Not many boys could.
|
|
The Amazing Flick
Full Member
I am awesome, and you know it...your just jealous because even when I shrink mines bigger than yours
Posts: 126
|
Post by The Amazing Flick on Aug 2, 2006 15:35:20 GMT -4
It took alot to get Flick drunk. Or even a little tipsy. So it was typical of him, when going to these kinds of things parties and bars to watch over other people. It seemed people always did the stupidest things when intoxicated, whether it be totally out of character or some deep desire locked away. Alcohol was often a release of true feelings, and Jeremy loved to watch these feelings unfold at Hawthorne parties. John slept with Becky. Becky slept with Johns twin Ben. But didn't know it was Ben. And Ben has been trying to sleep with Casey who is inlove with John. And none of them would know this if it weren't for an empty keg in the middle of the room. It was like magic. But psh magic didn't really exist.
So what kind of person would Lainey Carson be when she was drunk? Even after a talk in the park and lunch, she still seemed like such a mystery. Which was so very much attractive. Most girls at Hawthorne wore their live stories on their sleeves. Within fifteen minutes of knowing them they'd tell you every intimate detail of their lives, down to when their first dog got hit by a milk truck. BUt not Lainey Carson. What would she reveal about herself? What deep dark secret or desire? Or what would she do? Some people set things on fire, or hooked up with random people or got into fights. What would she do? Or would she even drink? So many people would go to bars or clubs just to dance and socialize. That'd be cool too.
"Your life? Nah, he only takes cash."
Jeremy said with a wink and a little laugh. He nudged her slightly in the arm and grinned trying to make her more comfortable. Some people might have found this situation awkward. Offering her his arm, as an escort he led her down the street to a secluded alley. He stopped in the middle of it and looked at the dumpster tapping it three times slightly and then kicking it in the center.
"Come on Mr. Jones. Wake up."
The dumpster creeked and groaned, rattling a bit. Jeremy just shifted his weight from leg to leg and crossed his arms over his chest impatiently. Mr. Jones was always one for a show. A small door, carved out of metal, burst open from the front of the dumpster, and the roof was raised a bit, revealing flowered plants. It was almost a little house in disguise. A thin hand reached outside the door, its thin spinny fingers motioned to enter. It retreated back into the dumpster and two stairs unfolded. Jeremy took a step forward toward the door and was crouching down before he turned to her.
"You ready then?"
He grinned. this was almost like magic. People at Hawthorne studied it, Jeremy himself wasnever sure if he really believed in magic. But if it did, Mr. Jones definetly had a whole shit load of it. His blue eyes stared into hers and smiled reassuringly, before he crouched and ducked into the dumpster. Once inside, he could stand up fully. It was definetly a house on the inside and didn't resemble a dumpster at all. The room he now stood in was a warm living room, with glowing white walls, covered in pictures and newspapers and books. A large red sofa sat by a fire place, and two leather chairs beside that. On the other side of the room sat a large round wooden table, and two regular wooden chairs.. And a rocking chair..which now held Mr. Jones.
No one is really sure how old Mr. jones is, or where he is from because for the most part he ummbles all his words together and its very hard for most students to understand him. The more you talk to him though, the more you get used to him. Jeremy loved Mr. jones, he was a frequent visitor though Mr. jones still weirded him out now and then. The man was about 5'3, and had a large head, with whispy gray hair and large ears. His forhead was wrinkled almost over his large brown eyes, and he had a large hooked nose. He pocessed a wide mouth and a small chin connected to a very thin neck. It was a miracle that the neck could hold up a head that big but it did its job well because Mr. jones still pocessed very good posture. His body was thin except for a slight lumpy belly which looked very strange compared to the rest of his body.
"Hello Mr. Jones."
"Mistaswansonhownoiceofyoutocomvisitinmeageenatthestoimeofday,whatbringsyahere?"
"Mr. Jones this is my friend..Lainey Carson."
Jeremy looked over his shoulder and gently grabbed Laineys hand giving it a squeeze and gesturing for her to move closer.
"Takeaseatwillyalemmegetabettalookatya."
"its cool Lain, sit down."
Jeremy said, taking his own seat.
|
|
|
Post by Lainey Carson on Aug 2, 2006 22:17:47 GMT -4
Lainey let Mr. Jeremy Swanson lead her wherever they were headed. She half expected some tattoo parlor or something, but what she got was far more surprising. He stood in front of a dumpster. She raised an eyebrow. Did he go digging through the trash for them? But, no, he tapped on it, then kicked it and called out a name. She was seriously fearing for his sanity, when the dumpster started rattling and a finger motioned for them to enter. She followed him, nodding at his question, and found herself in the most unusual place she’d ever seen.
And Lainey had thought Hawthorne Academy was a little different. While some classes appeared to be completely normal, there were the ones that were completely insane. Futures, for example, was the oddest looking room ever. All of the walls had been painted entirely black. The windows were boarded over so no light could get in the room. Occasionally there were candles burning. Instead of wooden floorboards or tile, the floor was covered in cushion. You had to take your shoes off before going inside. It was because some people, like her, tended to pass out when getting an intense vision. When you can never tell when they’re coming, it’s better just to have the whole room safeguarded. One half of the room was filled with the most random assortment of objects ever. And there were so many that no one had ever gone through every object. The objects changed monthly. They were used as ‘triggers.’ Some people who could see the future had to touch something to get it started, so there were many different objects to try.
While she could go on and on about the Futures classroom, she had to look around the “dumpster.” It wasn’t a dumpster at all—it was a little house. There was a fireplace and chairs and a table, and a man just sitting in a rocking chair. He didn’t look much bigger than her, which was saying something, but he looked old and sort of insane. She wasn’t scared of the man, but almost uncomfortable. How’d Flick find out about this man anyway? And was he the manufacturer of the fake IDs or were they on some wild goose chase through Manhattan? He was definitely a sketchy man, but he looked relatively harmless. Surely a man like that wouldn’t make fake IDs. Then again, he lived in a dumpster.
Flick said hello politely to which the man responded in some kind of mutter. Her mouth dropped open and she watched Flick to see if he knew what the hell the man had just said. He did because he answered and then squeezed her hand—a warm gesture that she had felt before, but in a different situation than this. In fact, the last person who squeezed her hand was Shorey. Lainey blinked a few times, snapped out of it, stepped forward, and kept her hand in Jeremy’s because it felt better there. The second time Mr. Jones said something, she tried hard, she really did, to understand what he said. But she failed and listened to Flick who’s warm voice was the only thing that really made sense.
So she sat down next to him in one of the chairs and she smiled at the man in front of her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jones.”
She hoped it wasn’t forced, and she played with a strand of hair as she looked at the strange man in front of her. God he was so skinny; did he eat? Was she supposed to say something else? Lainey didn’t want to, just in case she offended him or something. It was the first time in her life she hadn’t rushed into something, the first time she actually thought before she acted. It made her happy to know that she was finally maturing somehow. It made her happier to know that it had happened in someone’s presence who people would have thought was immature. But behind all Flick’s jokes and sarcasm, there was a great guy who had grown up a while ago. Lainey smiled to herself as she looked at Flick, waiting for him to do or say something, since she had no idea what to do.
|
|
Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
|
Post by Liao Zhang on Aug 3, 2006 10:10:39 GMT -4
She seemed a little unsure of how to react to what was going on, but not as freaked out as Jeremy thought she might be. Hawthorne did make kids excepting of their surroundings, thats one good thing. After going to combat in that huge smelly arena, or cooking in the kitchens built for five people and that hold fifty, he could pretty much stand any setting. He was glad that she didn't cringe or gape at Mr. Jones or his home. He was an easily insulted old man. Jeremy once brought a girl he was 'working on' to meet Mr. Jones and she was immediatly freaked out.
"Whats wrong with him? He looks like a wrinkly old elf or something"
Oh man Mr. Jones went off on that. Of course the girl couldn't understand a word the old man said and Jeremy didn't dare repeat them. So vulgar. There were honestly words in there that not even Jeremy would say, and some he didn't know. He actually mentally wrote them down and looked them up once he got back to the school. It was sickening and at the same time very funny. Well the girl was so alarmed at this old man yelling at her, she pulled Flick by the arm out of the dumpster and walked briskly down the street demanding to know what Mr. Jones said. He told her, that Mr. Jones put a curse on her. The girl left the school the next day. Jeremy hasn't heard from her since and doesn't really care if he ever does.
He watched her face from the corner of his eye, as he talked to Mr. jones and couldn't help but be amused at her confusion. Two..maybe three more visits and she'd get his mumbling down. You just really had to listen. Mr. jones once told him, that people always talked in a way that all their words came together. These were in the days when people still listened to each other. When communication was still very important in the human life. When people still had enough restraint that they weren't staring at a womans breast while she was talking(something Flick had a bad habit of doing). People actually sat in circles and mumbled conversations and actually listened to them. Who would have thought something like that actually existed.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jones.”
By the large smile on Mr. Jones' face, that was exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Noicetomeetmeh?Wellyahardlayknowmehlassbutyaknoanyfriendofjeremaysisafriendo'mine.yaseemlikeanoicelassthough,whatcanidoyafor?"
Jeremy looked from Mr. Jones to Lainey and grinned.
"He says you seem like a nice girl and whats to know what we're here for.." Jeremy turned to Mr. Jones, "We need an I.D. Mr. J."
The old man raised his wrinkled eyebrows and his grin grew a bit bigger as he looked the two teenagers over.
"YeahstillhaveyoursthenJeremay?"
"Yes sir I still have my ID. But I know you've gotten alot better at it.."
"IsupposeIaveyagotthemoneysthough? Or doyagotsomethintobarterwith?"
"He wants to know if you have any...actually don't worry about it." Flick paused, "I got it covered Mr. J, don't worry."
"Excellentboywaytowinawomans'eart."
Mr. Jones clapped two large hands together and got up from his rocking chair, hobbling over to the bookcase and rifling through newspapers. THe mans large feet and hands were astonishing, they looked like those medical gloves you get after you blow air into them. And man did they make some noise. Flick flinched at the racket coming from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder as he watched Mr. Jones remove a large black camera from a shelf.
"Ta-da"[/size]
|
|
|
Post by Lainey Carson on Aug 3, 2006 23:21:38 GMT -4
She noticed Flick’s gaze every once in a while, amused. But she wasn’t upset about that. She’d be amused, too if she was sitting where he was at this point. And as Mr. Jones said something else, she caught the beginning of it – nice to meet you? Little as that was it made her happy to be able to understand something that he said. Mr. Jones said something else and she couldn’t understand it, but luckily Jeremy translated for her. He answered the question for her and she watched the situation, an outsider. Mr. Jones would say something and while she was starting to understand tidbits of the conversation, she couldn’t translate the whole thing. Jeremy was incredibly helpful. And she couldn’t help but notice Mr. Jones had called him ‘Jeremay.’ Perhaps, she’d keep calling him Jeremy, too. Flick was so…informal.
And in the next segment of Mr. Jones’ language, she caught the word money. Jeremy started to translate and stopped, but she was already going through her pocket. He said he’d pay for her. Yeah, boys were expected to do that for dinner and such, and yeah this was a fake ID, but who knew how much it cost? And still, she couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t know why it had affected her that much.
Maybe it was Mr. Jones’ comment that she could piece together, way to win a woman’s heart. Yeah, he might have been a crazy guy and he didn’t know anything about their relationship—if you could call it that—but maybe he had something there? That was what made her smile.
“Are you sure?” she asked, then paused. “Fine. Drinks are on me.”
Lainey grinned at the boy next to her, but her chocolate eyes were drawn to Mr. Jones who was rummaging through a shelf. He pulled out a camera and she raised her eyebrows for a second. Oh duh. Fake ID – need a picture. But truth was, she never had good pictures. She just wasn’t very photogenic. Her school pictures had always made her friends laugh and only when they’d hang around their room with a Polaroid did any decent pictures of Lainey come out. So she kind of didn’t want Jeremy to see her picture, let alone her taking it. And then she thought about it. The boy had been making her smile all day; surely he would have stopped if he didn’t enjoy it or couldn’t put up with it, right? One more smile couldn’t hurt.
Mr. Jones lumbered over and she realized he really wasn’t that much taller than her, a few inches at the most. He lifted the camera up, prompting her to step back and smile, catching Jeremy’s eye in the act which provoked a real smile to come out in the depths. The flash blinded her, but she shrugged it off, hoping that her picture wasn’t too horrible. She’d have to use that fake ID for the next six years—it better be good.
“Thanks for doing this, sir,” she said to him politely. She didn’t know if he had been busy (could you be busy in a dumpster?), but they still had walked in out of nowhere and just expected him to get it for her. And that’s what he was doing. It was nice. Lainey was mentally mapping her way back to this dumpster, because maybe when she got Mr. Jones’ lingo down, she could come visit him anytime she wanted. Until then, she’d have to come with the blonde boy beside her, but that wasn’t exactly a bad thing.
|
|