Chapter 19: Slow on the Uptake
"I cannot believe you're tying me up! You, of all people! Could I have not been taken down by a unicorn instead? That would be less embarrassing. But you!?" I shout as Max straps me down to the chair to make certain that I don't run again, given the opportunity.
Nobody puts Aqueela in a corner!
Max shrugs helplessly. "Bella is scary when she's mad or sad or whatever it is that she's feeling as of now in this time, present, past, future-"
I raise an eyebrow at him, cutting him off. "Huh? What are you speaking? Krang?"
Max throws his hands up to the ceiling and closes his eyes dramatically. "I don't know!" he shouts out in a high-pitched, warrior cry.
"Your infatuation with her is ridiculously stupid," I tell him, rolling my eyes at his simpleton antics, nevertheless, there is somewhat of a smile on my face - Max does that to a person, he's able to change someone's mood from grumpy to joyful in a split second.
Max's eyes widen at being caught out. "I'm not infatuated with Bells," he states with a carefree grin, his cheeks flushing.
He can't even say her name without grinning like some creep.
I bite back a smile at his reaction to my accusation. "Sure you aren't," I tease, drawing out the evident sarcasm in my tone.
"Get off my case, Lawson. We've spoken about this before, let me feel my feelings! You like Jay. You're in the same scenario. I could mess with you too, you know," he threatens and I almost laugh at the emptiness in his words.
I grin carelessly, watching him finish the last knot around my hands. "Well done for the observation, genius. Everybody already knows. You're incredibly slow on the uptake."
"Yes, but does Jay know?" Max asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows, taunting me.
"Of course, he knows. Told him myself. So go ahead and tell him," I reply with a straight face. "In fact, I dare you. I still haven't got a response back from him anyway. You'd be doing me a favor."
Max pauses, his brown eyes brimming with confusion. "But I thought Jay's the one that arranged your date with what's-his-face."
"He did indeed," I clarify.
Max raises both eyebrows hesitantly before asking the inevitable. "But he knows you like him?"
I nod, playing it cool. "He does indeed."
"I've hit a blank here. I'm so confused," he exclaims in total bewilderment, trying to wrap his mind around my lack of an explanation because of Jay's lack of an explanation.
"Get aboard the Aqueela train, me and you both, buddy," I snicker, finding his reactions to be amusing.
"Why would he do that to you?" Max asks, wanting to get to the bottom of the mystery that is Jay Taylor.
"Beats me." I make an attempt in shrugging my shoulders. "Jay's mind is like an impenetrable fortress. I've decided that trying to concoct a reason for his strange behavior is like trying to find a needle in a haystack filled with poisonous spiders."
Max scrunches up his nose, in turn. "Not the best analogy, Aqueela."
"The best way to study Jay is to dissect his brain," I add, a stray strand of hair bothering me.
Max scratches his forehead before sending me a look of pity. "And you're okay with all of this?"
"I'm not entirely sure," I admit, not wanting to push Jay to talk about it. If anything, he probably thought it was just the alcohol speaking.
"Then why are you not reacting more?" Max prods, knowing me all too well.
"What's the point? It's not like the mystery behind Jay is suddenly going to be solved," I answer, giving him my very sensible point of view.
"You could always tell him how you feel about this you know. It's a very simple option. One that normal people take," Max suggests, implying that I could be normal - the kid is a jokester!
I let out a long, over-the-top laugh while he stares at me with a quizzical expression. "Oh, Max, you poor, naive idiot."
Max presses his lips into a thin line, impatient, as he gestures for me to go on.
"The last time I told Jay how I felt, he drop-kicked me down the stairs," I inform him.
He stays quiet for a second or two before shaking his head, whistling under his breath judgmentally. "Your guys' relationship is real strange."
I glance around Bell's older brother's empty room. It's void of anything now seeing as it has been ages since it has last seen the vain, conceited monster. We were all shocked when he told us that he was leaving for college. It was...unexpected.
"Where's Bells?" I voice my thoughts.
"According to her, she and Jay are discussing important details on what you should wear," he answers, stifling a chuckle.
"As if Jay is going to contribute to that conversation at all," I snort, finding it to be comical.
However, I see why Bell would ask Jay for his opinion on the matter. He has good taste, at least in his own outfits. He's not sloppy like other teen guys. He's stylish without being metrosexual. He's well kept and takes pride in his appearance.
"Whose room is this anyway?" Max asks me, surveying the bleak walls.
"You don't want to know," I say, saving him the details.
Some days I do miss the walking explosive. It's a good thing he likes to make surprise visits on the most random of days. I also know that those days are the highlights of his sister's month.
His room has become my secondary room whenever I sleep over. Although, the house is just not the same without his arrogant presence. When he left, it wasn't just Bells who lost a brother.
Fortunately, Troy has just returned from Troy on his trojan horse for a pop in visit. It's actually quite unfortunate because, no doubt, he'll mock me on my newfound dilemma. That, or he's out killing Mason for devastating the highly strung Bells.
The door suddenly slams open and my eyes are met with familiar blue-green eyes, and this time they're not Bell's.
"Hope has arrived! Behold me and weep!"
I groan aloud at seeing him.
"Well, well, well," he greets with a kilowatt smirk intact, "we meet again, Squirt."
I roll my eyes at his dramatic entrance, one of his many trademarks. He is literally not capable of just knocking and entering. It seems to surpass him and all his non-existent wit. "Hello to you too, Troy Story."
It's his nickname ever since he made me watch 'Toy Story' with him a couple years back.
Troy's lips lift into a cheeky grin as he reaches out to ruffle my hair, well-aware of the fact that I despise it. He knows I'll forever resent him for messing with my hair. It's an unsaid rule - 'don't touch the hair'. Simple as that.
"I'd slap you, but I'm a little tied up," I say and motion down to my predicament.
Max has no idea how to tie ropes, so instead of just tying my legs and arms to the chair, he tied my entire body down, except for my face. I currently resemble a 'rope' mummy. It even hurts to inhale.
"That I see," he smirks, thoroughly enjoying himself, "which reminds me, we've got to stop meeting like this."
"It's not funny. I'm being tortured," I complain.
He pretends to care, feigning seriousness. "It's a problem. It's a real problem."
I eye him warily and that's when he takes his cue to burst out laughing. I roll my eyes and scoff under my breath. He hasn't changed.
"Now enough about you and more about me," he says and then stops as a sudden thought occurs to him. "I meant to ask, who's the beefcake downstairs with my parent's lesser child? He's way out of Bell's league."
Max and I answer simultaneously:
"That would be Jay Taylor."
"That would be Aqueela's new flavor of the week."
I whip my head around to glare at Max. As if Troy doesn't have enough on me as is.
Troy grins widely, his eyes glimmering up in mischief. "How...interesting." Then, as if only catching up now, he turns to Max questioningly. "Who the hell are you?"
He is incredibly slow.
Max laughs, not taking offense. "A friend of your sister's and an enemy of Aqueela's."
I snort. "Yeah right. You love me."
"What a coincidence," Troy perks up upon hearing Max's explanation, "I, too, am an enemy of Squirt, and any enemy of Squirt, is a friend of mine."
Troy holds out his hand to Max expectantly as if royalty.
Max stares down at his hand in question before sparing me a glance, silently seeking my assistance.
I roll my eyes at Max in response. "It's easier if you don't ask questions, but basically, he's waiting for you to kiss his hand."
Max blinks in confusion, staring at Troy's outstretched hand contemplatively.
"Hey!" Troy suddenly snaps his fingers in front of Max's face as if insulted. "My eyes are up here." He accidentally pokes himself in the eyes.
"Troy," I send him a flat stare when noticing Max's discomfort. "You're so lovesick, with yourself, that I'm actually sitting here wondering when you're going to propose and just get it over with already." I clarify, "You have a serious problem."
There's not a person on the face of the earth who is more egotistical than Troy.
He surprises me by actually acknowledging my words. "You're right, Squirt." He turns to face the only object left in his room - one of his millions of mirrors. He stares at himself for a second or two before slowly running both hands down in his face dramatically, in total despair. He pats his cheeks as if checking to see if they're real, biting down on his bottom lip. "Other than good-looking, what have I become?" He takes unnecessary measures as always and panics, pulling at his perfectly styled hair in worry. "Squirt, what's happening to me?"
I open my mouth to speak but stop short when he takes matters into his own hands.
He drops to the floor, on both knees, and tilts his face to the ceiling. "Who am I?!" he shouts aloud into the room as if expecting an answer, both his arms raised above his head.
He's always over-the-top in absolutely everything he does. I'm used to it, but Max, on the other hand, is most definitely not.
"Troy Bensten!" Mrs. J calls from somewhere outside of the room. "We've been over this much too many times before, son!"
Troy opens his eyes as if having found his answer. He stares at the ceiling in awe. "Thank you."
It's then that Jay chooses to walk in, having heard the commotion from downstairs. He leans on the doorframe and takes in Troy's position on the floor. His eyes dart over to me, one eyebrow arched, as he nods to a preoccupied Troy. "Who's the blockhead?"
"Better you don't ask," I warn him ahead of time.
If he were here just a second ago, he'd know.
Unfortunately for Jay, Troy hears his remark and is quick to scramble back up to his feet. "Who am I, you ask, why I am the cereal you take in your milk, I am the comfy pillow you rest your head on at night, I am the dreams that plague your mind during the day," he pauses in an attempt to build up suspense, "I am the very heartbeat of the golden sun that shines upon your lowly head. I am," he concludes slowly, "Troy, Troy Bensten."
Jay turns to face me, regret pooling in his eyes. "You were right. I'm sorry I asked."
Max openly laughs, his discomfort turning to amusement. He holds his fist out to Troy, under the impression that Troy's only joking. "Nice one, dude."
A grin filters it's way over Troy's lips. "Thanks, No Name Brand."
Max already gave him his name. Typical of Troy to not pay attention. Nonetheless, I already don't like where this is going. The outcome of them being friends could be catastrophic on the world.
"It's Max, and are you going to leave me hanging?" Max asks, motioning down to his fist.
Troy stares at Max's fist before hesitantly raising his own fist to Max's. The second his fist touches Max's, he lets out a whimper and snatches his fist back, cradling it to his chest, a pained expression on his face as he scowls at Max accusingly.
"You're such a baby," I mock him, holding back a giggle.
Unimpressed, Troy glares at me before his gaze zeroes in on Jay, a cunning smirk taking over his features.
I gulp knowingly. Uh-oh.
"So, Bro," Troy starts, "this guy over here," he gestures to Max, having forgotten his name yet again, "tells me that you're Aqueela's new flavor of the year."
He's using me as the topic of his small talk. Once again, this is all Max's fault because he has yet to master the art of keeping his mouth shut.
Jay falls quiet before forcing a grin, looking anywhere but at me, feeling the awkwardness too. He eventually manages to clear his throat. "Well, if she's picking flavors then I must be bubblegum."
I merely smile, taken aback by his thoughtfulness.
"Are you Bella's brother?" Jay asks Troy, subtly (at least for Troy) changing the subject.
"If you're referring to that thing I call a sister, then yes, you're correct. Unfortunately, I'm related to that flesh-eating beast." Troy flashes his usual smug face, taking great delight in himself. "As you can see, I'm the child who got all the good genes. You'd never think that she's my sister."
Usually, I'd nudge Troy in the ribs and tell him to shut up, but I have another issue at hand. These people seem to think that a person tied up in the middle of a room is an everyday occurrence. "Can someone untie me, please?" I ask. "I need to go."
"Go where?" Troy asks, clueless.
Max facepalms himself, stunned by Troy's genuine stupidity.
"To the bathroom," I clarify my lie, frowning up at him in distaste. I just an excuse to get out of here.
Troy shakes his head, motioning to the others to get a load of me. "She needs to go, how attractive?" He mocks the way I phrased it. "You could've gone with 'I need to powder my nose'. I use that one all the time."
I don't miss Jay drawing his eyebrows up together in confusion.
"This isn't the 18th century," I glare at Troy, snapping out of my gaze. "Would would you have me say? Your Royal Highness, may I please relieve myself?"
"Better suited for a man of my stature," Troy answers, easily agreeing.
Of course, Max laughs and the small talk between the two continues, Troy using my head as an arm rest. The weight of his arm is giving me a migraine, especially since my head injury from both stairs has yet to cease in pain levels.
I glower up at Troy, wishing for his arm to fall off. When I do complain, Max threatens to duct tape my mouth shut. Fortunately, thank the skittles, Bells arrives in time to set him in his place.
Her frown sets into place when she spots her brother's arm resting atop my head. She goes to swat him away, but he moves away before she can, which only ends with me getting whacked in the face instead.
"This girl just doesn't catch a break," I hear Jay murmur as he winces for me, concerned.
"I'm so sorry!" Bell gushes, her hand in front of her mouth as her eyes cloud over with guilt.
"It's alright," I brush the matter off and grin in spite of the searing pain, "I'm used to it by now."
Bells immediately blames her brother as if it's second nature to her. "This is your fault! You're such a child, Troy! Grow up!"
Just to prove how much of gigantic kid he is, Troy mimics her in a high-pitched tone and imitates her with girly gestures, flinging his arms here and there for emphasis.
"Let's be serious, you guys," Max jokes, trying to ease the atmosphere between the siblings, "Aqueela had it coming."
Bells blatantly ignores him, slapping her brother upside the head instead. "Troy, I swear-"
"Troy, I swear!" Troy cuts her off, yet again taunting her.
"Mom!" Bell suddenly shouts, no longer able to tolerate him.
"Mom!" Troy shouts back, in turn, not threatened in the slightest.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Jay shake his head and sigh quietly to himself as if he'd rather be anywhere but here.
"Mom! I know you can hear us!" Bells calls again, aware that her mother has a tendency to tune them out when they're arguing.
When there's still no reply from Mrs. J's end, Troy smirks in victory. "I'm her favorite, Sis. She wouldn't take your side anyway," he gloats, satisfied.
"I'm calling Daddy then," Bells says, grabbing her phone, a sudden smirk of her own filtering over her lips. She knows her brother's weakness. We all do.
Troy's smirk instantly vanishes, his expression dropping. He holds his little sister's gaze. "You wouldn't."
"Oh, but I would," she grins, licking her lips like some evil wench.
Mr. Bensten always comes down hard on Troy. He thinks of Troy as some kind of failure and never hesitates to remind of the fact.
"Can you both quit it!" I shout, exasperated with their bickering.
Bells, being the more mature between the two, drops it. "Fine, fine, let's just do your makeup."
I should have just let them battle it out and fight to the death.
"No, I don't want makeup!" I whine, now joining in and becoming an immature toddler with them.
"You want some cheese with that whine?" Troy comments, seemingly very entertained in seeing me suffer.
Brothers. Don't I know how to pick them?
"Says the one who whined for two days straight because we didn't get you the chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs, which by the way, you're the only one that sees it!" I snap, now agitated.
Troy furrows his eyebrows, putting on a somewhat mature expression, as he addresses me in a very serious voice as if to contradict all that I just said. "Everyone can see they're dinosaurs, Aqueela."
"Because that's what everyone told you! They didn't want you throwing another tantrum in the shop!" I hiss at him. "Now come closer so I can bite you!"
Troy scrunches up his face, his eyes widening, as it dawns on him. He turns to Bells accusingly. "Is this true, Sibling? Have you deceived me?"
"Pretty much," Bell answers, owning up to her crimes, not ashamed in the least.
"Told you so. You're an idiot," I tell him with a happy-go-lucky smile.
He shakes his head, sending both me and his sister glares as if to express his anger without words. He's giving us the silent treatment again.
"Where is all this anger coming from?" I ask him, faking concern. "Is it Max's presence that's upsetting you? You can tell me." I talk aloud on purpose. "He has that effect on people," I conclude, feeling Max drilling holes through my head with his narrowed gaze.
I guess I could always call Dylan, if I actually had his number, and cancel. Being taken hostage is a good enough excuse for just about anything.
"I thought I could trust you," Troy vents, shooting daggers at his sister with his sharp stare. "You broke my heart, Sister, broke it!" he says over dramatically as he places a hand over his stomach instead of his heart.
"Oh, do your kind have hearts where us humans have our stomachs?" I ask, messing with him further before trying to hop away on my chair.
Bells pulls my chair back, having noticed my near escape. She ignores her brother's complaints and refocuses her attention on me. "Back to the matter at hand - Aqueela's makeup."
I groan aloud in response much to Max's brewing snickers. "Do I have to?"
"Just a little..." Bells begins to give a lengthy explanation, one that I completely zone out of, sincerely bored. Even Troy leaves, using breakfast an excuse in spite of it not being breakfast time.
"Blah blah blah, not doing it," I eventually say, cutting her rambling off with a single breath.
"This girl..." I hear Jay murmur under his breath as if amused.
"You're so difficult," Bells sighs, facing me. "I'm only trying to help you."
Then cancel the date!
"You're not doing a very good job." I point out, ungrateful.
"Stop fighting me." Bell leans down to pat my cheek playfully. "I'm on your side."
"Aqueela fights hard 'cause she loves hard," Jay tells Bells, leaving everyone in the room, including me, dumbfounded with his perceptiveness.
"Where ever you're going with this," I fix my gaze onto him, biting back a grin, "just don't embarrass me."
He smiles down at me reassuringly, his eyes holding promise. "I got you." He waves me off before turning back to Bells, "Just let her be herself."
"A little makeup is not going to change her character," Bell argues against him, passionate about looking good all the time. "So rest assured, your Aqueela will remain the same at heart. Don't worry your pretty little head over it."
"What I miss, Freakshows?" Troy addresses us, entering the room again with a bowl of Oreos in milk. He notices the raised eyebrows at the sight of his 'food'. "What?" he asks innocently. "It's my usual breakfast."
"It really is," Bell groans when seeing Max's perplexed stare.
"Can't be healthy," Jay chuckles, cringing at the sight.
"Gives me everything I need for the day," Troy answers in certainty.
"Sugar?" Jay mocks.
Bell glances around the room before beckoning everyone forward before Troy can reply. She takes in all their faces before motioning to them to come closer. When Jay doesn't move, she stares at him expectantly.
He lets out a resigned sigh and lifts up one hand from his laidback position against the wall. "I'm good here."
Bell leaves him be and continues on with her game plan. "Who here agrees that Aqueela should wear makeup? If so, please insert reasoning."
I should have seen this coming - the cursed 'group' vote!
"You guys always do this!" I immediately complain, already knowing where she's heading with this. "It's not fair. I'm always outvoted."
"If you're outnumbered, Babe, you're outnumbered," she answers says in a prim and proper voice, acting like some rich prima donna.
I shoot her a flat look.
"Just a saying, girlie," she resorts to a New Jersey accent, acting as if she's chewing on bubblegum, going as far as pretending to blow the bubble before popping it.
"Oooh me! Pick me! Pick me! I wanna go first!" Troy jumps up and down all too enthusiastically with his hand raised high in the air.
"Is there anyone else?" Bell asks, pushing her overeager brother aside. She looks to Max hopefully. "No one else?"
Troy starts talking anyway. "I definitely think Aqueela should wear makeup. It shouldn't even be a choice. It should be a permanent, spoken rule. I mean you've got to shield ugly from the public's eyes. The world just isn't ready for her for unspeakable atrocities yet."
Of course, he would say that. I know he's only messing with me so I don't take offense. Besides, he wears makeup too.
I shoot him an edgy glare. "Watch your words, boy. I can't stay tied up forever," I threaten.
He adds in a smaller voice, "And because I think she looks pretty when she wears makeup."
"Does that imply that I look ugly without makeup?" I question, putting him on the spot, enjoying seeing him squirm for once.
"Naturally, yes," he answers and then sees my face, quickly correcting himself, "I mean, no. You look interesting without makeup is all."
Interesting? As in some animal that can be analyzed?
Bells nods, taking her role as group leader very seriously. "I see your reasoning, brother," she replies, continually nodding her head as if taking this to the next level. "I hear you, I hear you. I'm following your thought patterns and process, and to some extent, I understand where you're coming from. Aqueela's stares can frighten one out of one's wits. Thank you for adding input. Your vote has been counted."
"My pleasure," Troy retorts in pride.
"Would anyone like to expound on that?" Bell asks, glancing around the room with expectation.
How difficult can it be to count four votes? You'd' think the process would be a speedy one, but no, they have to drag it out every damn time. A group of babies could do a better, faster and more accurate job.
"Onto Max," Bells commands despite him being reluctant.
"But I wasn't finished," Troy whines, unhappy.
"I'm sorry, Troy, but time is against us. We only have a limited time period. Another time perhaps," Bell replies, gesturing for Max to have his say.
Oh goody, she just implied that there would be another time.
"Aye-aye, captain! Following," Troy salutes her, submitting to her leadership.
"Well, I'd reckon Aqueela should wear makeup because she has two head wounds on either side of her face," Max says, being the logical one of the two. "Maybe, just for the date, it can be covered."
Bells nods again, indicating that she agrees. "I see your point. Nothing really to back up your reasoning like Troy's debate, but it will do." She stupidly adds, "Also, not coming from a logical perspective."
Not logical? Nothing to back up his opinion? Try the gigantic bruises across my forehead and the swelling on either side of my face as back up.
I've never had the heart to shoot Bells down, but honestly, she is the most useless group leader that has ever walked this planet. If she ever had to become president, I'd move countries in a heartbeat. The States would go to hell.
Troy, unfortunately, speaks up again. "I see what Max is trying to say, but I'll put it into a more in-depth perspective. You see, Aqueela's head is disproportioned right now. Yes, both sides of her head have swelled up immensely due to throwing herself down the stairs, twice might I add, but her left side, her recent injury, is more inflated than the other side. In fact, it resembles a hot air balloon, causing her already dysfunctional face to look all the more hideous. It makes her head seem like some bobblehead toy, that, or she's finally sprouting her demon horns."
It can't possibly look that terrible. As a result, I automatically glance to Jay for reassurance. He catches my gaze and smiles at me gently, shaking his head, signaling that Troy is talking utter garbage yet again.
"But look on the bright side, people, now when you say she has a big head, you're technically not lying," Troy jokes.
I grit my teeth in irritation. I'll kill him with my bare hands when I get out of here...if I get out of here.
"Perhaps if we look at her head from a different angle..." Troy suggests and cocks his head to the side, closing one eye as if to compare the difference. "Nope. Nuh-uh," he says, shaking his head defiantly, standing back upright. "There's no difference at all. Her head is still enlarged and inflated more than ever. I'd say it's the lighting in the room, but then I'd be lying. It's definitely her disproportional head, her face in general really."
I close my eyes and draw in a sharp breath. Please grant me grace so that I don't end up in jail for manslaughter.
Bells nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Mhmm," she says, having the mannerism of a professional warlord in spite of this not being the A-Team. If anything, this is the Z-Team. "What do you have to say about this dilemma, Jay? Makeup? Yay or nay?"
Max grins at seeing Jay's reluctant expression. "One of us. One of us," he approaches Jay like some walking, talking, breathing zombie.
"I hate that I'm being dragged into this, but if you're asking for my opinion, let Aqueela do whatever she wants," Jay answers in a smooth voice, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he steps away from the wall that he'd just been leaning on. "Either way, she'll look fine," he tells her, avoiding my puzzled stare.
Unbelievable. Jay Taylor just stood up for me.
Bell pulls a face, her lips quivering into a thin line, a contemplative expression as she takes in his suggestion. Dismissing him, she shakes her head, relinquishing his statement. According to her self-proclaimed rise to leadership, she's allowed to throw out any vote that she doesn't agree with, or, in simple terms, any vote against hers.
"So that means everyone says 'yes' to makeup!" Bells squeals ecstatically, clapping her hands in excitement.
Jay argues. "But-"
"Enough, Jay. Your reasoning made no sense to any of us. It was just utterly senseless," Bell persists, cutting off his protests before he can put a stop to this.
I guess, by taking my side, he automatically kicked himself off the group's so-called 'team' vote.
Speaking of which, the team, consisting of Max and Troy, chorus in agreement with Bells, just so they can beat me at all odds.
"All in favor say 'pie'," Bell states, pleased with the outcome. All she wants to do is use me as her guinea pig to gain more experience.
"Pie," Max says briskly, raising his hand in agreement.
"Hi," Troy waves, mishearing.
"Pie," Bell corrects her brother in a vicious tone of voice.
"Die," Troy corrects himself, well attempts to.
"Pie!" Bells snaps, growing more impatient with each passing second.
"Oh, I see what you're doing," Troy responds knowingly. "'Good cop-bad cop', huh? Smart thinking. I'll do bad cop," he insists before any of us can protest. "Die, Pie!" he yells in an aggro voice before backing out of character, "and then Pie's reply would be 'not today'!"
I scoff at what's taking place before my very eyes. Revolting.
"'Kay, now good cop," he says, before jumping back into character, "'hi, Mr. Pie'. Pie would be like ''sup, how's it going muchachos?' Personally, I like to view Pie as an outlaw who plays by his own recipe book."
Like Jay then.
"Since when did Pie get given life?!" Bells snaps, her voice laced in frustration.
Since the 'Life of Pi'.
Troy is the deciding vote, so all he has to do is reply with 'pie' and we we're good to go. But no, Troy always has to make everything ten times more complicated.
"Well, if you look at it that way-"
Bells cuts him off from reasoning any further. "There's only one way to look at it, Troy!"
He shakes his head and, unfortunately, begins to elaborate. "It depends if we eat Pie, then obviously no life is given, and if we don't, then Pie can thus rise as-"
"How can he rise if he never died first?" Max, the supposed smart one, reasons...much to my dismay.
"Wait a sec', who said Pie was a 'he'? Pie could be a badass chick too for all you know. You're all sexist," Bell replies, falling into their stupid debate. She's supposed to be above this, but I'll let her off the hook because she's still getting over 'he-who-shall-not-be-named'.
Yeah...I am going to be here a while.
I check the clock on the wall, the only thing Troy left behind in his room - his reason being, and I quote, 'you can count down the hours until you see me again' - and sigh softly. A couple of minutes have already been wasted on these pointless debates.
I should have never ever ever never ever never never never told Bells anything!
"What do you think, Jay?" Bells asks, wanting him to side with her. His antisocial persona apparently makes his opinion on the matter seem all the more powerful.
"Oh," he arches a brow, a frown tracing his lips, "so my say is suddenly worth something again?" he bites back rather aggressively, clearly annoyed by all of this. He's not used to their level of insanity.
"Well, only if yours matches mine, nuh-duh," she replies in an 'isn't-it-obvious' tone of voice, flipping her long brown hair to the side, mimicking the actions of a diva - her brother for instance.
"How do I always get dragged into these crazy shenanigans?" Jay asks loudly, everyone fixating their attention on him since he's barely been speaking - that's nothing new, I have grown quite accustomed to his content silence. However, this time, it's discontent silence.
Max simply motions to me, hoping that it will somehow answer Jay's question. "You know Aqueela right?"
Jay nods in response.
"There. You just answered your own question," Max retorts with a cheeky grin. "She be trippin'!"
I'm quick to jump to my own defense. "Yeah, 'cause I'm the crazy one giving life to 'Pie' here. Everyone knows that the saying is 'all in favor, say I'," I state in a matter-of-fact way, annoyed.
Bell's expression grows serious as she waves an accusing finger in my face. "You want another round of 'who the sanest is' like last year? Because I can guarantee that you will lose by a long run again."
"Hey!" I snap, remembering that specific event. "Only because you and Troy called a group meeting and outvoted me...again!"
"You always lose." Troy openly laughs at my expense. "You should be ashamed of yourself and your family."
I open my mouth to argue but fall silent when seeing Bell's signal.
She stops the debate from progressing any further. "Girls, you're both pretty, now shush! I'm trying to count up the votes."
"I am prettier, though, right?" Troy, insecure, asks, flicking his hair to the side in a girly pose.
"There are only four votes, Bell! Three, seeing as you cut Jay out. Besides, all three of you said the same thing. How difficult can this be? I swear, a group of girl scouts can do a better job," I huff in protest, finally giving my say on the entire matter.
It's amazing how Troy can drag out a simple procedure into a lengthy, complex one. How does he endure himself?
"Wow, Aqueela. Tame that temper. There's no need to get hostile." Bell sends me a disapproving stare as if I'm the one in this room that deserves it most.
For once, I'm being the normal one. I blame Troy. He always manages to change up the dynamics. It's like he has superpowers. Personally, I have no idea how he does it, but he does.
Troy runs his hand along the top of my head like I'm some kind of pet puppy that he's reprimanding. "Yes, Aqueela. You've got a hot temper and you need to cool it before you burn someone."
I merely scowl at him in turn.
He removes his hand and shakes his head, clicking his tongue to indicate his disappointment. "Now, now, Aqueela, temper, temper."
Max changes the subject, aware that I'm about to lose it. "So..." he starts awkwardly, "have you guys heard about Pluto?" When none of us answer, he shakes his head, quoting 'Gus' from 'Psych'. "That's messed up."
Before I can even reply, Troy has already got his cell phone out, snapping pics of me. I give him a furious glare, still unable to stop him. I might as well make the images as scary as possible. I hope he gets nightmares!
I honestly think I will kill him when I get loose.
"Everybody we need to get Aqueela to a mirror," Bell insists, her mind on the task at hand. "Troy!" she exclaims bossily, gesturing to the chair and me expectantly.
Troy, surprisingly, seems to understand and picks me and the chair up effortlessly.
"This would all be a lot easier if you idiots just freed me," I voice my thoughts aloud with a deep sigh. I hate being taken captive. It happens much too much for my life to ever be considered somewhat normal.
Troy skips ahead with the chair and me intact in his arms before leaping down all the stairs at a fast pace. I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid. If he trips and I fall down the stairs for a third time I will seriously rip him to shreds!
"Careful," Jay warns quietly, watching Troy's every move with unease. "That's precious cargo you're carrying there."
Troy Story and everyone else enter into Bell's parent's room for the usage of the large, fancy mirror - the apple didn't fall too far from the tree, in Troy's case anyway.
"Where is Mrs. J when you need her? Murphy obviously hates me because I seem to have the worst luck in the whole universe," I complain.
"Nope," Jay shakes his head, disagreeing, "that would be me."
I laugh, stopping when Bell's holds my head still, applying a light coat of makeup to my face.
The guys get bored after precisely two minutes and eventually leave me at Bell's mercy to go play 'Need for Speed' on the Xbox. I have no doubt that Jay will win hands down, at least in real life anyway.
Being tied to a chair for so long does things to you. It's something you can't come back from.
It seems as if hours have passed when Bell finally speaks again:
"All done!" she exclaims in excitement before calling for Troy to come and undo the knots. However, he's taking his sweet time in getting over here.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings. I glance to the clock in panic, only for Bells to state calmly, "Oh, its seven o'clock already. Would you look at that? Man, time passes by quickly."
No, it doesn't! Too agonizingly slow, if anything!
I try to put up my own calm façade as I casually address her. "Hey, Bells?"
"Mhm," she answers, her thoughts elsewhere.
"That would be my date at the door. Jay gave him your address," I remind her.
Bells nods, barely registering what I've just said. She speaks up, a blank expression on her face. "I'm sorry, who's at the door now?" she asks, her calm amidst the storm still intact as she blinks down at me in bewilderment.
"Dylan, my date," I repeat, far from ready to go.
I don't even know what I am going to wear or do with my hair. I saw this coming. I knew they'd waste enough time and this would be the outcome. To be honest, I guess a part of me wanted it to happen so that I could cancel on Dylan.
"Oh, Dylan? Your date, Dylan? Dylan the date?" Bell responds all too smoothly, and then, as if suddenly realizing the issue, begins to shake me back and forth by my shoulders. "Holy cheese and bacon! Dylan's already here!" she shouts, most likely waking up the entire neighborhood.
She shoves me back so hard that the chair, conveniently, tips backward and I fall to the ground. The worst part is that I can't even pick myself up off the floor. "A little help," I mumble, only for my words to fall on deaf, crazy ears, "and maybe a littles less conversation with yourself."
"Sherbet, schnitzel, shalom! This is so bad!" Bells shouts in panic, overreacting so that I don't have to. For some reason, I have an oddly tranquil pretense up but it's about to crumble very soon.
"You think?!" I finally explode. "I'm not even close to ready. Just look at me! I'm stuck to a chair! I'm even upside down! Not even the right way up!"
"I know!" Bell whimpers dramatically. "Flip! Flip! Flip! Flippety flip! Flippy flip!" she panics as she scrambles around the room, pacing back and forth as if truly worried.
"Well," I huff, "untie me, dammit!" I yell back just as Troy enters the room.
His immediate response is to place his hands over his ears to tune out the frantic screaming. "Ladies, ladies, what's the ish and sitch?"
"Dylan's at the door," I tell him.
Troy grins giddily like a child about to receive a present on Christmas morning. "The pizza guy is here?" he asks, wiggling his fingers in excitement and patting his stomach. He's never not hungry - always thinking about food.
"My date!" I correct him in a vicious tone.
His face drops. "Oh, him." Then, as if too realizing what is happening, he starts sprinting in circles around my toppled over chair, his feet just missing my face. "Crud! Crud! Crud! What are we going to do?! What are we going to do?!"
Bells stops pacing and joins her brother, running in the opposite direction to him on instinct. She too runs in circles around me and my chair. "I don't know! I don't know!" she shouts, in turn, pulling at her hair frantically.
I can only imagine how this scene must look to a bystander...me lying in a mess sprawled out on the floor stuck to a chair whilst two complete morons run in circles around me in sheer panic. I get chills just thinking about it.
"Think, you overgrown gerbil! Think!" Troy commands sassily.
With their panic attacks, you'd think they're the ones going on the date.
"Here's a thought, untie me and answer the door!" I raise my voice in frustration.
Troy immediately scrambles down and crawls to me. He tries to untie the tight knots Max made, only to fail miserably. Again, Max's fault. Troy is too panicky. His fumbling hands are useless!
I sigh internally, wishing for his imminent alien abduction to come soon.
He tries for a solid good ten minutes as the doorbell continues to ring. You'd think Max or Jay would answer it, but, instead, they are chanting away at the racing game playing on full volume.
Troy finally gives in after a second or so. "I can't! I can't do it!" He throws himself down, face-first, onto the floor. "These knots are impossible. I'm not sorry but you're going on your date like this! If you're lucky he might find it spunky."
Bells slaps Troy upside the head so hard that the sound echoes around the room. "She's not going like this! Look at her, she's a gigantic heap of mess!"
"Jeez, thanks Bells, you're the greatest. You always know how to boost confidence levels," I remark in sarcasm.
"Go answer the door and stall while I get Max to untie this!" Bells ignores me and rather barks more orders at her brother instead before yelling for Max.
Troy doesn't bother responding. He's already opening the door, judging by his high-pitched tone as he answers - a clear indication that he's nervous. "Oh, Aqueela?" I hear him say. "Yeah...um...she's a little tied down at the moment if you know what I mean."
No, he does not know what you mean, Troy!
"I know my brother," Bell says, staring me down in pity, "it's about to get worse."
We continue to listen.
"I'm Troy, a radiant glow in the dark. That's all you need to know. But say, you're a good looking fellow. How did Aqueela snag you up? You want toast? I make the best toast."
"Told you." Bell winces on my behalf upon hearing her brother speak.
Dylan answers him. "No, actually I-"
Troy cuts him off with an anxious laugh. "You're hilarious, bro! Let me get you them toasts. I'll butter them toasts real good."
Bell slaps her forehead and if my hands were free, I'd do the same to her.
Dylan falls quiet and I can only guess that he's complying with Troy in the hopes of shutting him up. Welcome to my world, Dylan.
Meanwhile, Max is struggling to get his own knots out. He tries to no avail and the leaves the room. When he comes back in with and a sledgehammer, I send him a deadpanned stare. When he suggests a flamethrower, I officially declare him a lost cause. He'll pummel me into a pulp and burn me alive.
When Jay, my saving grace, arrives on the scene with a sharp pocket knife, we all groan in dismay for not thinking of that sooner.
Who thinks of a flamethrower before thinking of a knife? A deranged Max, that's who.
Jay doesn't waste any time. He effortlessly tips my chair back upright before moving in with the knife.
A strangled scream leaves my lips. "Don't cut me! Don't cut me!" I try to jump away, wiggling out of his reach in the fear that the knife might slip.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Aqueela," he reassures me before yanking the chair back to him as he carefully cuts away all the rope.
I grin in delight when the rope falls loosely at my ankles. "Thanks, Jay."
He's the only one with common sense in this household.
Bells doesn't hesitate to throw a dress and cardigan at me, the weather having warmed up due to the start of Spring. Max, following her lead, tosses me a brush, just missing my face.
"Work on your aim, my friend." I glower at him, unimpressed.
"Don't think I need to," he winks, teasing. "I'd hurry if I were you," he suddenly says, "last I heard, Troy told Dylan that he has lovely eyes before asking him what hair conditioner he uses." He shudders as if scarred. "He literally smelt Dylan's hair."
It's more serious than I thought. Troy's weird under pressure. Troy's just weird in general. However, us weirdos gotta stick together.
"Hurrying," I tell Max, frantically running a brush through my hair before entering the bathroom to change.
I step out and do a twirl for the three standing before me. "How do I look?" I ask, in a rush.
Max responds with a thumbs up. Bell squeals. Jay nods.
"I'll take all that as good signs," I reply with a carefree smile.
Bells, satisfied, embraces me quickly before stepping back to admire her unfinished work. "The raw material may have been rushed, but all in all the finished product ended up being gorgeous."
I sigh in relief. "First things first," I hold up a finger and pause for a second before sprinting away in the hopes of making my grand escape.
Jay, as if having expected it, catches me by the waist before hauling me to the kitchen where Dylan cowers in a corner, trying to avoid further conversation with Troy.
The last thing I want is for Dylan to find out what happened here this afternoon. Unfortunately, my wish doesn't come true.
As it turns out, Troy panicked within the span of the five minutes that he was left alone with Dylan. He ended up showing Dylan the photos he had taken of me in the chair just to keep the convo going.
Troy thought that the best way of not letting the secret slip is to purposely let the secret out. He played himself. Although, I do somewhat get his logic.
He continues to show Dylan. "And this is one I took an hour ago when Aqueela-"
"Troy likes to mess round, don't you, Troy?" I say, making my presence known, nudging him hard in his ribcage to get him to stop talking.
The purpose of stalling Dylan was so that Dylan wouldn't have to find me stuck in a chair. Troy managed to defeat the entire purpose altogether.
Troy laughs awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. "Always," he responds in a pained tone as I shove my elbow in his ribs yet again, just because I can.
He's convinced himself that he's the one going on the date.
Dylan looks away for a second. In that split moment, I flick Troy across his forehead and mouth 'moron' to him. When Dylan turns back to face us, I am quick to offer him an innocent smile, ignoring Troy's groans of pain.
Dylan turns to me, his eyes brightening. "Hey," he greets warmly.
"Sorry I took so long," I apologize, uncaring, "I got held up."
"I see." Dylan grins playfully and motions with his head in the direction of the photos Troy had snapped of me, still on full display.
I swear...the audacity of this kid.
"Why were you tied up?" Dylan clears his throat in an effort to get me talking.
What is this? An interrogation? I will get tied up if I want to without being questioned about it!
"Why weren't you tied up is the real question," I respond on impulse, not at all thinking that one through.
"Stupid," Max coughs to me in a not so subtle fashion.
Dylan flinches back, eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry, what? Did I misread whatever this is because-"
"I usually tie myself up before dates to prepare my mind."Â I might as well try to lie my way through this one somehow.
I glare at Max when he snickers aloud at my expense.
Dylan is perplexed by my explanation. If anything, I've just confused him more.
Seconds pass before Dylan finally clears his throat, managing to replace his bewildered frown with a soft smile. "You know what, I don't want to question it. Clearly, your methods of preparation are working. You look beautiful."
So cheesy...
I avert my gaze in irritation. My eyes land on Jay instead. He's standing nearby, leaning against the kitchen counter, with his usual expression - an icy look that could kill nations, even the fire nation.
He meets my gaze and raises an eyebrow.
I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, Dylan's already talking animatedly, tugging me right out the front door.