Chapter 41: The Bet *Fortuitous Event

A reader suggested the song Glad by Tyler Hilton :) I like this song so much! Thank you for suggesting it. Banner by peanutFACE. Crazymusicfan12 made a poem about The Bet. It was great and I loved it :> Click the external link to read it.

Chapter 36 *Fortuitous Event*

~Drake

“What did you do to my baby?” Xyrielle shrieks, lunging towards me.

I take a step back automatically and raise my hand in a surrender mode. What is happening here? “What are you talking about?” I ask.

Pie tries to calm Xyrielle but she cries hysterically.

“What happened?” I ask Pie quietly.

Pie shakes her head, stopping me from walking towards them. Xyrielle’s cries turn into sobs. She glares at me while wiping her cheeks from her shaking hands.

“What happened to Rain?” I repeat more gently.

“He’s in the hospital,” she murmurs, “he’s confined there because of you. You fed him that food! He is allergic to it! He almost died!”

I can feel the world crashing and falling to my shoulders. Many words run through my mind in that instant. Rain is in the hospital because of me. He’s just a baby! He doesn’t deserve to be there because it’s my fault! I can’t believe I was reckless! Pie told me not to feed Rain with my food but I didn’t listen, so now he’s suffering. He might even be dying! And it’s really hard to accept that.

“What are we going to do?” I barely recognize my voice. It’s so different from mine.

“We have to wait for the findings of the doctors,” Pie says, glancing at Xyrielle nervously.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I walk to where Xyrielle is sitting and say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I will never—“

“Draky.”

Someone’s calling my name and I know I have to open my eyes. But I don’t know how to. I can feel my breathing speeding up. I am cold inside and out.

“Draky.” I can feel someone shaking my arms. “You have to wake up now.”

My mind’s in a fuzzy haze. I’m like a lost spirit, lingering outside my body.

“Wake up!”

Suddenly, I feel something splashed to my face. My hair’s dripping with wet water. I open my eyes in surprise and sit upright.

“Why am I wet?” I ask incredulously, wiping my face with the edge of my shirt. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest. I remind myself that it was just a dream. But hey, it felt real! I thought it was real! I’ve never been so glad to be awake.

Pie goes to my line of vision. She’s biting her lower lip and on her hand is a glass of water, half full.

“You splashed water to my face.” My voice is sort of accusing.

“You won’t get up,” she says sheepishly, “so I decided to splash water to your face. I heard it was effective.”

“What do you think?” I ask dryly.

“I think it’s effective,” she says amusedly, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.

“Why did you even wake me in the first place?”

Pie rolls her eyes and says, “It’s ten in the evening.”

“What?!” Really? I can’t believe it! I slept the whole afternoon and half the night.

She looks at me smugly and says, “It’s just six thirty.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “You like teasing me, huh?”

“No,” she says slyly, “I just want to see if you trust me.”

I raise my eyebrow and ask, “What’s the verdict?”

She turns away from me and make a point of organizing the pillows and putting them back on their original place.

Okay, no need to wait. I know Pie won’t answer my rhetorical question. Looking around, I notice something. “Where’s Rain?” I ask.

Pie looks at me as if I said something stupid.

“What?”

“Rain’s gone.”

“Gone?” I exclaim. The word has a different meaning because of my creepy-dream-slash-nightmare. “What do you mean gone?”

“Xyrielle came here while you were sleeping,” Pie answers, studying my face carefully. “She wanted to thank you for babysitting Rain, but didn’t want to wake you up. She said they have to go home because no one’s at their house and its getting dark.” She pauses and then continues, “As if you helped.”

“Excuse me?”

She grins, her dimple coming into view. “Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “Xyrielle said that she’ll call us and then she’ll have something for us.”

“What?” I ask curiously.

“I don’t know,” she replies, “she didn’t tell.”

I feel disappointed because I havent say goodbye to Rain. For the few hours we spent together, I care for him. Even though I didn’t admit it at first. Truth is, I like babies. I just pretended at the beginning that I don’t like him because, well, I wanted to see Pie’s reaction.

Now I’m going to miss Rain. I wonder when I will see him again. I hope soon. On the other hand, maybe I can ask Xyrielle if she wants Pie and me to babysit Rain again.

“What comes first, the egg or the chicken?” I ask Pie.

“That’s not a question,” she says wryly.

I can see that she’s fighting off a smile that wants to form on her lips. “What do you think?” I probe, just to have a conversation with her.

I feel like an idiot, wanting to hear her voice, wanting to have a conversation with her, wanting to. . .

Okay, I have to stop now. I really don’t like where my thoughts are headed. I hear the stupid voice smirking. Am I crazy? Do crazy people ask theirselves if their crazy? No! No! I don’t think I’m crazy. Crazy people don’t think they’re crazy.

Why are you talking back to me then?

Shut up!

“Draky? Draky?”

I have a feeling it’s not the first time she’s calling my name. This stupid voice is—

“Why do you look so annoyed?” she asks curiously.

“Do I?” I ask, trying to put on my poker face to no avail.

“What were you thinking about?” she asks, nudging me on the elbow.

“The voice,” I blurt out without thinking.

Pie’s eyes widen, and then she grins. “You’re still talking to it?”

I don’t know why I speak honestly with her; not that I always lie, but I talk without thinking when it comes to her. I speak without filtering my thoughts.

“Draky?”

“Yes?”

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “Do you want something?”

Pie will cook a food for me? Now, that’s interesting. “Yes, I’m hungry,” I say. My voice is too cheerful. Why am I so excited?

“There’s a food in the fridge,” she says obviously, “you just have to cook it.”

This girl!

It’s hard to make her fall in love with me! It’s not easier than I thought. If only I know how to cook, I can make her fall in love with me because of the meals I’ll prepare for her. If only it is that easy. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I think of that.

“First, talking to yourself,” Pie says, breaking me from my reverie, “and now, smiling for no apparent reason at all.”

“I catch myself smiling when I think about you.”

Heat rushes to her cheeks. I like to see her blush. She’s so shy, she fidgets on her seat nervously.

“Stop staring at me!” She scowls and turns away from me.

“Why are you blushing when I say things like that?” I ask curiously.

“I’m not blushing,” she lies. "Staring at someone is rude," she quotes me.

I smirk. “So you’re just—“

“Shut up,” she interjects. She stands up and starts to head towards the door.

“Wait,” I say quickly, standing up as well. “I was just kidding!”

“Whatever.” She stops from walking away but she still doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll cook something for you to make it up.”

Her mouth forms a wry smile. I’m glad I can make her smile.

“You said you can’t cook,” she says bemusedly, putting her hands on her hips.

“I said that,” I admit, “but for you, I’ll cook something.”

“That’s so sweet,” she mutters.

“You don’t believe me,” I say matter-of-factly.

“It’s because you said so yourself.”

“But didn’t you hear me? I said I’ll cook something for you.”

“I’m not deaf!”

I move closer to her and brush the hair that’s falling to her eyes, obscuring half of her face from my view. Her eyes widen at my action and I swear I hear her catch her breath. Her mouth forms into a little O as we stare at each other for a few heartbeats. I wait for her to speak but she seems frozen in place.

“Are you hungry?” she whispers, taking small steps away from me.

“I’ll just eat later,” I mutter. I’m still hungry, but not the same as before. Something weird happened to my appetite.

“Okay,” she says, “I’ll make a sandwhich.”

“I think I’d like to eat a sandwhich too.”

She smirks and leads the way to the kitchen. Pie prepares two peanut butter sandwhich while I take two glasses and fill them with juice.

“I want to breathe fresh air,” Pie says.

“Let’s go outside,” I suggest.

Therefore, we make our way towards the back porch and sit beside the pool with our feet dangling in the water. We eat our food in a comfortable silence.

It’s like dejavu is visiting me because I remember the last time I’m here with Pie beside me. That was the time she wanted to tutor me. That was a few days ago, and until now, she hasn’t really teach me yet because there are always fortuitious events occuring.

And then I remember that that was the night I had a creepy nightmare. I shiver inwardly, visualizing the scenes in my mind. I shake my head furiously to clear my—

“You know,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. “I’ve been here for a couple of days but I haven’t swum yet.”

“Are you afraid of the water?” I ask teasingly.

“No.” She scolds.

“You want to swim now?”

She shakes her head. “Maybe tomorrow. I don’t know. I just like watching the water in the pool.”

“Why?” I wonder.

“The water calms me,” she says, “it’s like going on forever. It doesn’t have an ending. It always goes back to where it came from.”

I don’t know how and what to respond to that so I just keep quiet. Now I’m regretting not reading a lot of books. Maybe when I read something interesting, I can share it with her. Something memorable. Something I treasure. And then I remember something that she likes. Not that I know she likes it but I notice her gazing at them when we’re together.

“You like stars, right?”

She looks at me, a funny expression on her face. “I like heavenly bodies,” she replies.

“Why do you like them?”

“Do I always have a reason why I like something?” she asks amusedly.

“Because if you don’t have a reason, that means love.”

“When did you become so poetic?” she asks, smiling slyly.

“I’m not poetic,” I say. I don’t know why I feel embrassed. As if there’s something to be ashamed of.

“The moon and the stars are my light when it’s dark,” she says, looking upward. “They give me hope. I’m facsinated with what they really are. They appear to be blinking, but they are not. They are always there but you can’t see them because of the sun.”

I am speechless again. I forgot how many times she already makes me speechless by what she says and what she does. So unpredictable.

“Do you know where Andre is?” I ask curiosly. I wonder where he is. I called him a few times earlier but he’s not answering his phone.

“Aren’t you his best friend?”

“Aren’t you living with him?” I retort.

“Well, I’m not his best friend so I don’t know where he is,” she says dryly.

“Just because we’re best friends doesn’t mean we know everything about each other,” I return.

She turns, so she's facing me.  “I thought best friends doesn’t have secrets from each other,” she says thoughtfully.

“Sometimes you have to keep a single secret to yourself,” I mutter.

“Andre’s on a date,” Pie says after a minute.

“With whom?” I ask, surprise.

Andre has a date? Andre Lavigne, my best friend? He told Pie, but not me? Are we talking about the same Andre here? Suddenly, I feel an overwhelming surge of betrayal.

“I didn’t ask him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me,” she says evasively. “And I think it’s rude to ask him a personal question.” She gives me a pointed look. “Didn’t he tell you?” she acquires.

“No.”

“Why?”

Now it’s her asking the why question. “I don’t know,” I answer. “Andre’s been secretive lately. Especially about his love life.”

I didn’t mean to tell Pie about that. It just came off my mouth. Again. It’s easy to talk to her. Words are flowing from my mouth without me thinking about them.

“You don’t know much about his love life,” she states, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes,” I say, “because I don’t want to intrude.” In addition, because he’s keeping it a secret from me.

“Maybe there’s a reason why he didn’t tell you.”

“What are you trying to imply?” I ask, a bit annoyed. I know Andre doesn’t want me to know, and now Pie’s rubbing it to my face. I feel like an outsider in my own world.

“Nothing,” she mutters.

“Tell me about yourself?” I ask, changing the topic. I want to get to know her personally but she seems. . . I don’t know, I can’t expalin it.

“What do you want to know?”

I shrug. “Anything about you.”

She rolls her eyes and says, “Why don’t you just ask me a question and then I’ll answer it.”

“That’s a good idea,” I say.

However, I’m afraid you’re not going to answer my questions. I still remember the day when she said, “Just because I gave you a perimission to ask me a question doesn’t mean I’m going to answer it.” I smile at the memory. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“So?” she asks, raising her eyebrow.

“How’s your love life?”

The instant the words are out of my mouth, I want to reclaim them. Their effect on Pie is immediate-- she stiffens, and that’s when I realize that her love life is a taboo subject. Maybe something happened. Something bad, that’s why she doesn’t want to talk about it.

I’m so stupid for asking that question! There are a lot of questions out there, why did I ask that? Why am I not thinking?!

We have an uncomfortable silence after that. I chastise myself again and again. Unfortunately, you can’t change the past.

That’s why it’s called past because it already happened.

I know!

“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.,” she says thoughtfully, ignoring my question.

“That’s deep,” I say, after clearing my dry throat.

“That’s from The Alchemist.”

“I’ve heard of it,” I reply. It’s a popular work of fiction.  I heard a lot people talking about it and saying it’s their favorite book.

“Maybe you should read it,” she suggests. “We’ll study it after A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“I haven’t even finished it yet,” I say sheepishly, scratching the back of my head.

“That’s because you’re a slow reader,” she mutters.

“I’m not slow,” I say indignantly. “It’s just I’m not interested with it.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’ll see,” I say smugly, “I can finish it with just one sitting.”

She raises her eyebrow, like she’s daring me. “Let’s see.”

I’m still curious about her past, but she’s right. You just can’t ask a person about her personal life because it’s rude. I just have to be patient for her to open up to me.

Somehow, because of this, I have an idea on what will I surprise her for her birthday.

*****

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