It is always nice to have some boys around, even if they are under the false impression that your brother is cool. And anyway, it would be nice to meet some of Aeden’s friends so that I could torment him through them the way he was tormenting me through Giselle. I had, of course, managed to nip that in the bud for the time being, by lying and saying that she had a boyfriend, but I’m sure he would figure out that that wasn’t true soon. Aeden may not be the brightest crayon in the box, or whatever that saying is, but he’s not that dumb.
So, I asked him on the way home from school that day. Speaking to him on the way home was a task all on its own, because now that I had told him what he wanted to know (ie. that Giselle had a boyfriend), he had no interest in walking home with me or Niki. So, I had to kind of linger at school, hiding behind the outdoor gym cupboard, where they kept all the skis and field hockey equipment and other such things to torture us with, watching Aeden. He was talking to some people who were presumably his friends. Some of them were actually quite cute. I was a little amazed to tell you the truth, but that’s beside the point. The point is that I had to lurk behind a cement bunker, which was covered in bugs and half-immersed in some particularly overgrown shrubbery, waiting for Aeden to leave school so that I could accost him. It was quite a while before Aeden decided to leave, too, and by the time he finally did, I had been bitten over twenty times by mosquitoes (I counted), I really had to pee, and I’m pretty sure had a rash from poison ivy, which I had most likely been sitting in for over forty-five minutes.
“So, how was your day?” I asked perkily, jumping out from behind the cement bunker and beginning to walk beside Aeden. He had clearly not noticed me standing there for the past forty-five minutes as he jumped about three feet into the air and dropped his bag on the ground, which split open and all of his books and what not exploded onto the sidewalk.
“Bloody hell, Emmie!” He exclaimed angrily, stooping to pick up all of his stuff. I figured that since I was trying to get something from him I should be nice and I helped him gather up all of his stuff, which he shoved unceremoniously into his bag. And then he stormed off ahead of me, not bothering to wait. I was, of course, angered by this, but decided to put it behind me for my friends. Well, really, because his one friend was really good-looking.
“So, was it good then?” I asked, racing to catch up with him. He huffed, trying his best to look disgruntled and put-off I’m sure, but I just ignored it. Eventually, after I had been beaming at him for a good three minutes of silence, he answered.
“Yeah, it was alright,” he grumbled. “What do you want?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. It was a voice I often used on teachers and it never really worked on them. It certainly didn’t work on Aeden. He rolled his eyes at me.
“You want something or you wouldn’t be talking to me right now,” he replied. “So, what do you want?”
He’s good. I think it’s from his years of practice of being Mum’s lackey. He’s a crafty little bugger.
“Well, my friends Poppy and Piper, you know, the Oliviers, are having a house warming party—” I started to explain.
“They moved?” Aeden interrupted. Usually, this would really bother me, and this time was no different, except that I didn’t tell Aeden that. I knew if I complained that he would get all huffy and wouldn’t talk to me for days, which, honestly wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if I didn’t want to meet his friends. He is such a woman.
“Well, they moved their bedroom to the attic,” I replied. Aeden laughed and it wasn’t a good, friendly chuckle, more of a mean, harsh scoffing. I let it slide this time, but it he was making it pretty hard for me.
“Not much of a move is it?” He said, still laughing meanly. I ignored him again. I had a feeling that I would have to do a lot of that during Poppy and Piper’s party and I started to change my mind about inviting him.
“Anyway, do you want to come?” I asked, grabbing the bull by the horns. Aeden stopped walking and turned to look at me, a strange look on his face. It was kind of quizzical and also kind of like disbelief.
“You want me to come to your friends’ party?” He asked. I nodded, still smiling, though inwardly thinking about how dim he was. That is, after all, what I had just said. Not exactly brain surgery. But then I remembered that the stupid are to be pitied, not angered.
“Yes,” I answered, giving Aeden my best smile. You know, the one where you beam from ear to ear and show all of your teeth. Sometimes there’s a fine line between “I am overjoyed right now” and “I have finally cracked and should be committed to an asylum”. I hoped that the smile I was giving my brother was of the first kind and not the latter, because God knows he’d jump at the chance to get rid of me. He’s such a caring person.
“Umm, okay,” Aeden said uncertainly. I had clearly thrown him by inviting him. “Should I bring something?”
“Just your dancing shoes!” I said brightly and had a sudden urge to bang my head into the nearest wall. “I guess you could probably bring some of your friends if you wanted.”
“Okay,” Aeden said and we continued to walk the rest of the way home in silence, but, for some reason, it was less awkward than usual. It was very strange. I clearly needed to spend less time with him as we appeared to becoming comfortable with one another. Unacceptable.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 5, 2010
Emmie Rolland #4
Later, in Latin class, I almost wept again, but for an entirely different reason. In this class, I had to sit in the middle, which is not as good as the back, but far better than smack dab in the front. In any case, it wasn’t much better because I wasn’t allowed to sit with any of my friends. No, I had to sit beside Ginger Rogers and her best friend, Cally Pritchard. She was almost worst than Ginger Rogers. Well, except that Cally didn’t have ringlets in her bangs. She did, however, have glasses so thick they looked like she was wearing glass bottles over her eyes. The effect was that she looked like an enlarged insect.
Anyway, we were sitting in Latin class, reading up about Roman life in a text book called Roman Life. Historians are really imaginative. Anyhow, the text book was dull as sin, which doesn’t really make sense to me, because you’d think sin would be interesting at the very least. This sin, however, was definitely not interesting. The author, Mary Johnston, was rambling on for ages about togas, couches, and grain grinding. It was so boring I thought I would have to stab myself in the ear with a mechanical pencil to stop the endless boredom. Plus, Mary Johnston was the biggest prude imaginable. She actually said that no “respectable” woman would use co-ed baths. Also, Mary said that there were drinking parties with dancing girls for young men with “questionable” interests. On top of that, the book was so old, Mary used the phrase “gay and luxurious life” and meant happy.
Fortunately, to prevent myself from having to actually stab myself in the ear with a pencil, my friends sent me amusing notes. Giselle sent me this note.
What was the real reason Cassius and Brutus killed Caesar?
I turned back to her and shrugged. She sent me another note with the answer.
He was reading this book and they wanted to save him from total and complete boredom. Who can write this much about couches? Honestly, surely one of her friends must’ve whacked her in the back of the head with her own book and told her to stop rambling. Good Lord.
At the same time, Poppy had sent me a note asking for me to pick a colour and two numbers. I had written back my response and now when I looked over at her, I realized that she had made a cootie catcher. A little while later, she sent me my results.
You’re going to marry a man, who is really a woman, and, by the time you find out that he’s actually a woman, you’ll be a gimp and will stay with her just because no one else will want you.
My friends are such kind people. Anyway, I looked back over in Poppy’s direction, to give her a look after my excellent prediction, and saw that she was talking to Piper and Libby. They got to sit together because the class was arranged in alphabetical order. I wasn’t far from them, but Ginger and Cally were sitting between us, so it’s not like I could talk to them or anything. But that’s beside the point. The point is that I could see Libby fairly well from where I was sitting and I noticed that she was in fact wearing false eyelashes. I have no idea how she managed to get away with that without any of the teachers flogging her or something.
A few minutes later, we were still reading Roman Life, but now we were doing it individually, while answering questions on the material. Or at least that’s what we were supposed to be doing. I was waiting for Natasha to finish writing her answers so that I could copy them. While I was waiting, however, I was super bored so I started listening to Cally and Ginger’s conversation. They were whispering so I really had to strain to hear them. Some people are so inconsiderate. Anyway, I quickly grew tired of eavesdropping, too, although, because they were talking about math. That was almost worst than reading Mary Johnston’s endless ramblings on Roman grain. Good Lord.
Anyway, we were sitting in Latin class, reading up about Roman life in a text book called Roman Life. Historians are really imaginative. Anyhow, the text book was dull as sin, which doesn’t really make sense to me, because you’d think sin would be interesting at the very least. This sin, however, was definitely not interesting. The author, Mary Johnston, was rambling on for ages about togas, couches, and grain grinding. It was so boring I thought I would have to stab myself in the ear with a mechanical pencil to stop the endless boredom. Plus, Mary Johnston was the biggest prude imaginable. She actually said that no “respectable” woman would use co-ed baths. Also, Mary said that there were drinking parties with dancing girls for young men with “questionable” interests. On top of that, the book was so old, Mary used the phrase “gay and luxurious life” and meant happy.
Fortunately, to prevent myself from having to actually stab myself in the ear with a pencil, my friends sent me amusing notes. Giselle sent me this note.
What was the real reason Cassius and Brutus killed Caesar?
I turned back to her and shrugged. She sent me another note with the answer.
He was reading this book and they wanted to save him from total and complete boredom. Who can write this much about couches? Honestly, surely one of her friends must’ve whacked her in the back of the head with her own book and told her to stop rambling. Good Lord.
At the same time, Poppy had sent me a note asking for me to pick a colour and two numbers. I had written back my response and now when I looked over at her, I realized that she had made a cootie catcher. A little while later, she sent me my results.
You’re going to marry a man, who is really a woman, and, by the time you find out that he’s actually a woman, you’ll be a gimp and will stay with her just because no one else will want you.
My friends are such kind people. Anyway, I looked back over in Poppy’s direction, to give her a look after my excellent prediction, and saw that she was talking to Piper and Libby. They got to sit together because the class was arranged in alphabetical order. I wasn’t far from them, but Ginger and Cally were sitting between us, so it’s not like I could talk to them or anything. But that’s beside the point. The point is that I could see Libby fairly well from where I was sitting and I noticed that she was in fact wearing false eyelashes. I have no idea how she managed to get away with that without any of the teachers flogging her or something.
A few minutes later, we were still reading Roman Life, but now we were doing it individually, while answering questions on the material. Or at least that’s what we were supposed to be doing. I was waiting for Natasha to finish writing her answers so that I could copy them. While I was waiting, however, I was super bored so I started listening to Cally and Ginger’s conversation. They were whispering so I really had to strain to hear them. Some people are so inconsiderate. Anyway, I quickly grew tired of eavesdropping, too, although, because they were talking about math. That was almost worst than reading Mary Johnston’s endless ramblings on Roman grain. Good Lord.