Amy 20: Amy In "Shut Up And Eat!" free porn video

Amy 20: Amy in "Shut Up and Eat!" Copyright 2013 by Amy Komori The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2013 Amy Komori. All rights reserved. Chapter One: Too Bad So the first fake date went okay. Better than okay, actually. Patrick wasn't an asshole or anything. The whole junior high thing between us seemed like ancient history and this was a fresh start. And we didn't go to a movie. We ended up going roller skating. We had to take a bus to the roller rink, which was kind of run down and a very sad place. The deco was stuck in the 80s or earlier. Like there was this really ugly maroon (maybe it had once been purple) shag-type carpeting on the floor around the rink itself. And the rink was very scuffed from years of abuse. And we held hands like a couple of cutie love birds. It was only because I was pretty good at skating anyways and Patrick sucked at it and looked like he was going to break both of his legs if I didn't help him. We ended up holding hands a lot as we went around the rink. Even though I felt nothing as far as attraction or anything like that went, just being in that position was like having something in my brain screaming about gender dichotomy and sex roles and all that. And the touch of his hand lingered. The main reason was his hand was super sweaty and gross feeling. But the touch lingered in my spirit, too. Mostly in the form of me asking myself what the fuck I thought I was doing. As the day went on, one thing I found what the fuck I was doing was having a pretty good time hanging out with him. We played some old video games they had there and I kicked his ass at them, we did this crane game where we both tried to snag some stuffed animals and wasted too much money and we laughed so much I had to pee twice. Not in my pants or anything. Hovering over the toilet in the women's restroom. I loved my girl friends and wasn't really feeling in the need of a guy friend or anything, it's just he could be pretty funny and we could insult each other in a joking way, just like I did with Michelle and sometimes Gina. If I didn't think too hard about how these little event was technically a date, I could just relax and be myself around him just like I could both of them. Patrick, once you got to know him, was pretty cool in his own way. Too bad liking him as a person and enjoying his company only made my whole secret reason seem even dumber than Emily made it out to be. That's a feeling I got off and on at the most inconvenient times over the next few weeks as I threw myself into this whole scheme or plan or whatever it was supposed to be. Beyond pretending to be the traditional girl in a traditional het relationship and feeling all kinds of weirdness from that, I'd be brushing my teeth thinking about my day and then realizing part of it was going to be spent having fun with Patrick and I'd cringe big time. Not because of the het stuff and not being into guys, but because what I was doing was so unfair to him. Emily was right. This was a huge mistake and a really cruel thing to do to him. But after going out with Patrick a few times--once skating, once to see "The Green Mile" (which totally sucked) and once to an all-ages show where some local bands totally impressed me, plus these more casual times where we met downtown or hung out at the skatepark--we were getting close to make or break time. Either we had to plunge into definite coupledom, or I had to find that way of letting him down while simultaneously making him feel good about himself that would throw me clear without killing anyone. At least Patrick hadn't tried to kiss me. As dumb about this shit as I was, even I could tell he was dumber. There was no way he was going to kiss me unless I kissed him first. Patrick, even though there were times we'd be sitting with our thighs together through our jeans and all and I knew he had a boner going because his pupils were big and he couldn't keep up his end of the conversation, was way too shy and self-conscious and even intimidated by me to make a move like that. He was a typical dude. That's some of the stuff I explained to Emily at the sushi restaurant where she worked one afternoon, which was like the only fucking place I could ever be around her anymore even though at the moment I desperately needed her expertise in all things being a girl in a het relationship, at which she was a total fucking genius. "It sounds like you're really getting an education," was what she had to say, her black eye brows arched high over her eyes. Which, by the way, were also black, as were mine. "I guess you could say so," I said. "Are you starting to... like him?" "I like him as a person. Or do you mean like like-like him?" "Yeah. Do you think you might be into dudes at all?" "No." "So you're still not into Patrick?" "God, no." "So, then, how are you going to end this, or have you decided?" "I... was kinda hoping you--" "Oh fuck that, Amy. I'm not getting any more involved than I am." "Which is not at all." "I warned you. Is it even working?" "What do you mean?" I thought she was talking about her warning me, which obviously hadn't worked because here I was three weeks into a fake relationship, the very thing she tried to tell me not to do in the first place. I bit down on my tongue just a little trying to think about this completely bizarre thing she'd said but I was getting nothing but feedback. Tired of waiting for me to catch up, Emily said, "I mean, is the plan working? Have the rumors or whatever stopped in your little baby school for babies?" I frowned and kind of crunched my neck down into my collar bones, then looked away at the wall before I said the angry things that were about to come spilling out of me. Luckily for us both, I was able to stop with, "Yes." "Yes, what?" "Yes, it's working. God, why are you being so mean to me?" "Oh, I dunno. Maybe because I'm at work and actually slapping you would probably get me fired." "Kelly's gonna fire you for being a lazy ass anyways, so you might as well slap away." Instead, she patted me on the head and sighed. "I thought I raised you better than this." "Guess not." "Look, if I come up with a way to get you out of this, I'll tell you. Okay?" I wouldn't look at her. "Okay?" She was still patting my head and it was going from being annoying to being kind of funny, so I smiled. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of saying it was okay, but I at least looked at her, blinking each time her hand hit the top of my head. Emily smiled back at me. "Does that fix things?" "Kinda. Comp my dessert?" Emily tore my bill off her pad and put it down on the table. "Kelly already did." Then she sauntered away to one of her other tables, and I saw Kelly Kitagiri, the manager, staring daggers at her. Same as always. How long until she's fired, I wondered. Staring daggers. That's what Heidi Fleegleman and Ashleigh Bodine, the two people I suspected of starting the whole Amy-is-a-dyke rumor in the first place, were doing a lot lately, too. But I'd beaten them, or at least forced a stalemate in this particular battle. While I wasn't popular enough for people to care whenever I did something they considered normal, my having a boyfriend at another high school had become common knowledge, filtered out via my friends. That pretty much ended everyone's interest in me at all and the whispers stopped. So really, the only thing I had to do was hang out with Patrick whenever I could while thinking of ways to make him feel good about himself--and believe me, the idea of finding someone else and tossing him at her crossed my mind, but that was total movie bullshit--- before a mutual parting of the ways. Then I'd be free to secretly pine for Gina until graduation. Gliding into spring, life wasn't seeming so bad. Minus those little cringe moments, that is. Chapter Two No Bon Appetit Between school and my fake relationship, that didn't leave a lot of time for other things I had going on like skating and playing bass with my friends. That wasn't any big surprise considering Sarah was seeing someone, too, and didn't have much time for other things either. But every so often we did convene in Gina's garage to play the songs we'd already written and possibly learn new ones from Lena, our resident serious musician. I ditched plans with Patrick one Friday afternoon and managed to pry Sarah away from her studies long enough for us to both walk over to Gina's. Lena was already there, her guitar slung low and she was strumming something vaguely familiar while Gina kept a beat behind her on the drums. Gina was just doing the little kick pedal thing. She had her eyes closed and her mouth was moving, her lips making silent numbers from one to four over and over again. "What's up?" Lena asked when she saw us. She didn't even miss a stroke on guitar. "What are you playing?" I asked. "It's like I've heard that before." "Some song from 'Rushmore,'" Lena said. "I don't know the name." "Who is it by?" She shrugged and still didn't miss a lick. "You don't know who it's by?" "The stupid Rolling Stones I think." "Oh." I didn't know. I actually didn't care. I was just relieved to be around girls again. I got the bass they let me use out of its case and tried for a while to tune it but with Lena playing away all I did was mess it up worse. I let out an exasperated grunt and she came over and helped me tune. As usual, she ended up having to turn the knobs for me while she made me pluck the strings and let them resonate. After a few minutes she got pissed and put her guitar down and took the bass away from me and she and Sarah tuned it together. "When are you going to stop playing with a pick, Buttercup?" Gina asked me. "When are you going to stop picking your nose?" I asked back. "'When are you gonna stop picking your nose?'" Gina mocked me in this peepy little voice. Then in her regular voice, she said, "You're like the only person in town who plays bass with a pick." "The strings are too thick, dude. You try it." "I have. I play with my fingers." "I'm sure you do," I said with this little smile and the words kind of lingered until Sarah got the giggles and Gina's face turned red. "Shut up," she growled. "You hang out with Michelle too much." "How much is too much?" "Too much when you can't say anything without being a total smart ass about it." "Are you mad at Michelle?" "No, not really. Kinda." That surprised me. I blinked. "But why?" "It's not really her. Okay, it is her. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Dallas was acting all weird today at lunch and Michelle and I were talking about you, you know, that we were going to practice today? Dallas started talking shit about you and I stupidly tried to defend you and Michelle jumped me!" "What?" "Yeah! She was all in my face about it." "What the fuck, dude?" "I know! I was like, 'Well, she shouldn't talk about Amy like that.' And Michelle was like, 'Fuck you, Gina. You have no idea what's going on.'" A mystery. What was going on? What was Michelle talking about? I made up my mind to call her when I got home and find out. If I felt like it. You had to be ready for action when it came to Michelle. We loved each other like sisters and all, but part of that was because we had similar personalities. Like really major temper problems. There was probably a way to bring it up and find out what was bothering her and Dallas without starting WWIII, but that was probably for more diplomatic people like Lena and Sarah. Or Emily, who wouldn't get involved unless I begged her. That is, if she was even available. So it would either be me versus Michelle or learn to live with not knowing. "What did Dallas say about me, by the way?" I asked. I could at least learn that much. "Something about not being trustworthy." "Trustworthy? Was it like something to do with Boy Scouts?" Gina snickered and shook her head. All she said was, "Dallas." "Ohhhh Dallas," Sarah said in this soulful, sighing way that made us all laugh. "Let's play before Buttercup has to take a pee break," Lena said in her bossy way. I nodded, started to ask Lena if we were going to do this Rolling Stones song or something and realized it was too late. I totally had to pee and there was no way I could hold it long enough for us to learn a song. Better to go ahead. I took a deep breath and said, "Too late..." Lena winced, I gave her a snotty look and put down the bass and tore into Gina's house in a rush. Sitting on the pot, I kept thinking about Dallas and Michelle and why when you're trying to accomplish a simple thing like have a fake boyfriend for a while it turns into this big circus act where you're like juggling ten clowns and jumping into a lion's mouth. That mental image made me laugh so hard Gina's mom knocked on the bathroom door and asked me if I was all right. Well, I was so I went out and we played the Rolling Stones song a few times. It was really difficult for me because it was in multiple parts and I couldn't keep up. No one complained or anything. At least they had that much common sense. I was kind of preoccupied by the Michelle thing, so I didn't have my A-game for snapping back at Gina anyways. As we were packing everything away, I told Gina I was going to call Michelle. "Okay," she said, not really paying attention. She was doing something with her drums, like tuning the heads or something. One of those drummer type things. "I'm serious. I want to know what's up," I continued. "I believe you," Gina said. "Listen to me." "I'm listening." "You are not. You're barely saying anything." "God, Buttercup, I'm listening. You're calling Michelle. It's going to be like twin sisters with psychic assholes connected to each other." "Psychic assholes?" Lena asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You know what I mean. They'll come to some kind of Amy-Michelle brain whatever and I'll end up being the bad person." "We will not!" I protested. "Fuck, dude, this is what I get for being on your side!" "For now." I groaned in exasperation and stormed off. What was happening to all my friends? I heard Sarah calling for me to slow down. She caught up to me, her face kind of pink. "Are you okay?" she asked. "No, I'm not." "Oh." We walked along and I talked the whole time, telling her how frustrated I was with Dallas acting weird, Michelle jumping Gina, Gina acting like I was the reason. Was it too much to ask, I wanted to know, for all my friends to get along with each other and just be happy for once? "I'm happy," Sarah said. Okay, that totally melted me. The rest of the way we just joked with each other like we were twin sisters or something. We talked about Cibo Matto and wondered what were our chances of seeing them live. We sang "Birthday Cake," the best part being when I shut up and Sarah found herself doing the "I don't give a flying fuck, though" line alone. Her eyes went so wide! I laughed like a crazy person and apologized a dozen times, but she wasn't upset or anything. I couldn't help thinking how I'd probably have gone crazy a long time ago without Sarah pulling me back, or I'd have become really super mean without the sugar her friendship had somehow baked into my soul. After dinner with Mrs. Komori--she asked me about school and Silly Monkey and I gave her these noncommittal answers while I puzzled in my brain about Dallas and Michelle--I went back to my comfy bedroom and did some homework. It wasn't as if I had to labor over it or anything, but just the act of doing it was pain enough. The writing of problems, the reading of books I'd already read years ago and partially forgotten. "Pride and Prejudice." I couldn't get into it. I rolled over on my back and thought about Patrick. Surprisingly, he hadn't even called. Probably doing guy stuff with his guy friends, I thought. I could do guy stuff. I used to do guy stuff. What did guy stuff consist of anyways? I could grope around in the recesses of my brain until I came across all my old Martin stuff and relive it, but what was the point? What was girl stuff? Was I doing it right? It seemed I was full of nothing but questions. The biggest one was about Patrick: How was I going to ditch him? Thinking about Patrick led me inevitably to thinking about Gina, who I was still totally in love with. Having a tiff with her was no fun these days. I mean, sometimes it could be. We could enjoy giving each other a hard time. But this one was so weird because it involved Michelle and Dallas. When they both appeared in my thoughts, that meant I wasn't going to turn the whole thing into a kissing fantasy with Gina or something more elaborate--like a few days before I'd been thinking about one day if Gina and I became a couple maybe one of us would want to have a baby, stuff like that. Instead, it made me realize it was time to confront Satan herself. And at that moment the phone rang. My first thought was, Patrick being the boyfriend everyone thought he was, including himself. Mrs. Komori answered it and told me it was Michelle. That was fucking scary! My heart fluttering, I picked up and said, "Hello?" "What's happening, hot stuff?" she asked. "Well, if you want to know, I had a huge fight with Gina today and it's your fault." "How is it my fault?" "You started something with her today. She's really upset about it." "I upset Gina? I didn't think it was possible." "It is. And I'm the one catching shit for it." "Sorry, Claudia. It wasn't really my fault. It was Dallas." "What's her deal these days? She barely comes to school, she never talks to me, she says shit about me behind my back-" "I don't know." "You're her best friend. You do too know." "She's just... being Dallas. She's like all depressive and everything. It's a depression state or whatever." "Why?" "Chemicals in her body, dude. Do you know what all she takes?" "Oh fuck, yeah. I've seen her pill bottle collection. There's like fifty kinds of anti-depressives." "Well, there's your answer." "No." "No?" I really wanted to get Michelle to open up, so even though I was scared half to death we were going to end up screaming at each other over the phone, I pressed. "She's not just down. She said I wasn't trustworthy. I want to know why and I think you know." Silence for a while. Then Michelle said, "Sorry, Buttercup. If I knew, I'd tell you. Do you want me to find out?" "Of course I want you to find out!" "OW! YOU SCREAMED IN MY EAR!" I held the phone away from my own ear as Michelle bellowed wordlessly. I knew she was just trying to be funny, but it was super annoying and I wanted to slap her. When is she going to get tired of this and let me talk to her again? I wondered. Then I heard her mom yelling at her to stop yelling, which made me laugh. "Okay, I really have to go. I'm in trouble," Michelle said when I dared put the phone against my ear again. "I'll see what I can do about Dallas, okay?" "Okay, and apologize to Gina." "What for?" "For climbing up her ass." "Nuh-uh. I have to stick up for Dall. No one else will. I'm not mad at Gina or anything. That was just... you know..." "Yeah, but Gina is mad at me because of you. So you're going to apologize so Gina won't be mad at me." "That's stupid." "You're stupid. Do it." "Okay, okay. My mom's going to shit bricks if I don't hang up so fuck you." "Fuck y--" was all I had time to get out and Michelle was gone. And all I knew was I had a big problem with Dallas. I rolled over on my side and hugged my knees. Fuck, I hate being a teenager, I thought. The phone rang again and this time it was Patrick. Patrick and I chatted about nothing for a while and then I got bored so we made a plan to hang out the next day, which was Saturday. "Don't you want to be skateboarding or something?" I asked him. "What about you? Doing that inline whatchacallit?" he asked back. "Touche," I said. "See ya tomorrow." Then I hung up in case he planned to say something troubling that involved the letter L. After that, I kind of brooded for a while, then listened to some music while finishing my homework and went to bed. I'm dating a guy, I thought as I stared into the darkness of my room. I don't even like him like that, but we're dating. The girl I do like likes guys, I'm pretty sure. She's fighting with my other friend and the friend of hers is acting like a complete freak. Life sure was interesting. Chapter Three: You Know My Love Is Sweet So in the interest of being interesting, the next morning, after showering and all that good stuff, I got dressed. Okay, every so often I felt more girl than usual, and it just so happened this was one of those days. I felt it when I woke up and knew for certain when I found myself taking all this extra time to put my hair in little pigtails with rubber bands. Some days were just little pigtails days, and I was becoming accustomed to that. I slipped some extra string bracelets on my empty wrist--the other one had the power bead bracelets Emily gave me a long time ago, put on my puka shell necklace, slipped into a pale blue hoodie and decided fuck shoes, I was going to wear flip flops instead. Mrs. Komori gave me a ride downtown because she had to run some errands, and she dropped me off with a sing-song, "Have a nice time!" "Thank you," I sang back with a cheerful smile that I didn't feel inside. Patrick came walking up with his skate deck in his hands. "What are you dressed for, Ayumi?" "A funeral. A happy, slappy clown funeral." "You are a little weirdo." I shrugged and looked at our reflection in the glass door of a clothing store. Skinny, tall blond boy, skinny, short Asian girl. I got a secret glow from thinking about how Patrick knocked out his natural teeth and had to have implants. Pretty cool. Of course, that was an occupational hazard of what he did, which was recklessly hurl our bodies into the air and down again and hopefully land on wheels and not our faces. He did the latter one memorable day and we all stood there in the aftermath as he cried. That made the glow go away and I felt a little sick to my stomach. He was still standing there smiling, though. I wanted to ask, Do you remember the pain from when you smashed out all your teeth? This time I shrugged at myself and inwardly waved away all those thoughts. They went away like smoke and I felt happier. I let myself smile at him. "What are we up to, today?" I asked. He looked a little surprised. "I... don't know..." That pissed me off. What the fuck good was having a boyfriend who didn't know anything? We had a whole afternoon to kill and it was obvious we weren't going to spend it making out or something. When you're fifteen and fourteen years old and you have almost zero income, there wasn't a whole lot for you to do downtown that didn't involve simply staring at thing. One thing you can do to pass the time is get all pissy, which is what I did. I said, "God, I have to do everything. From now on, I'm the boy in this relationship and you're the girl. Follow me, stupid." I led us to Wake Up, the coffee shop and bought us both something to drink so we could chill and talk or whatever. Patrick asked for some hot coffee, black, which he got and I got iced tea with a lemon in it. There was one little wooden table open near the bathrooms. The others were filled with people on laptops or, like this one, with balding young guys reading paperback novels and taking notes. There were a couple of girls on the saggy sofa along one brick wall. They were both wearing tees and peasant skirts with sneakers and I made a mental note to look for a peasant skirt if I felt like it. Patrick and I sat down and I put my straw in the tea and sipped it while trying not to look at him. He was drinking his steamy coffee and probably staring at me looking for signs of that word that starts with L. "So many college students," I said. "Yeah," Patrick answered. We weren't exactly burning up the conversation. My tea was really delicious and it was exactly what I needed. There was just the merest hint of bitterness to it. The clear plastic cup started to bleed water while I stared at the college girls around us and I remembered a while back the first time I was really around a lot of older girls as a girl and how I was kind of happy thinking I'd grow up into someone like them. Was that the first time I started becoming a girl in my mind and not just my body? I wondered about that. It was another one of those amazing Amy insights I had no one to discuss with. Even brilliant big sister wouldn't know what to say. There were still twinges here and there but since then I'd gone from being a guy in a girl's body to a girl in a girl's body. And here I was pretending to be a het girl in a girl's body. I looked at Patrick and he was looking at me, just as I thought. He smiled so I smiled back. It seemed like the nice thing to do. "This tea is so good," I told him. "My coffee is, too. Do you like coffee?" "Yeah, I like it okay. I guess I'm more of a tea man." "Do you drink hot tea?" "Like it's going out of mother fucking style," I told him. After we finished our awkward drinking and not talking phase, we tossed our trash in the bins. Patrick and I play wrestled over the plastic tray and he got a little mad at me because the coffee cup was a real breakable mug unlike my tea cup and he was worried about having to buy the pieces. I let him clean up and put the tray back and he started making eyes at the barista, who was probably either a college student herself or recently graduated. She was cute, I had to admit. She had short hair pinned with little barrettes. She even playfully flirted back with Patrick, which brought out his shy guy smile instead of his skater smile, the one that said, I don't care what you think. The shy guy smile said, I care too much what you think, and even I found it adorable. It was like finally seeing a real person for once and not just the mask we all wore. You fucker, I thought to myself, but it kind of made me happy, too. After that, I felt in a better mood and we just kind of strolled around downtown. Before we knew it, we were blabbing about all kinds of different topics and things got more relaxed and comfy between us. We talked about his classes, my classes, the differences between inline and wood pushing, stupid shit our friends did. It was kind of warm, but if you stood in the shadows or the breeze picked up, the temperature dropped and I was so glad I was wearing that hoodie. Patrick, meanwhile, was just in a t-shirt and every so often he'd put his skate deck between his legs and stand like he had to pee but with both hands deep in his pockets, trying to keep warm with his arms. "Let's go sit on the sun, dude," I told him. Then I had the bright idea he should push me there on his skateboard. I told him, and he was like, "Why?" "Because I want you to." "You can ride it if you want. I just don't see why I have to push you." "Because I'll look stupid sitting on it like kicking with my foot." "You want to sit on it?" "That's the whole point." He shrugged and nodded, put the deck down and I sat on it and crossed my ankles so I could get my feet up on it. "Push me, dude," I told him and I felt his hands on my back. It wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, but it was fun. People looked kind of annoyed at us as we weaved through them, avoiding shoppers and people with dogs--college students mostly, and some with their parents- and I put my hands in the air as if I were on a roller coaster and yelled, "WOOOOO! WOOOO!" in this high-pitched voice. By the time we found an empty bench we'd pissed off any number of people and I was enjoying myself way more than I thought possible. Actually, I was giggling my ass off to the point of tears rolling down my cheeks. Even Patrick was laughing, although he was puffing a little from all the effort. "Dude," I told him, "You're so fucking weak. You're like... it's like you really are a girl. You should fucking wear a dress. More often." "Fuck you, Ayumi," was all Patrick said as he tried not to breathe so hard and he blushed. "No, I'm serious. You'd make an awesome girl." "Shut up," Patrick growled, but he was smiling now, too. He flopped onto the bench and I got off the board and sat next to him. I put a foot on the board and wheeled it closer and Patrick picked it up and cradled it like a baby. "I'm just teasing you," I told him after we'd sat silently for a while. "Huh?" "You're a totally awesome guy." "Shut up!" "I'm not being sarcastic." "You are, too." "I'm not." "Okay, then," Patrick said and he was wearing his thinking expression. "Tell me this. Do you like being a girl, Amy? You... don't really act like one a lot of the time." "What does that mean? How do girls act?" "Like... I don't know. Like girls." "Listen, fucker, girls act all kinds of ways." "You act all kinds of ways. You and Michelle. Half the guys at the skatepark think you're dykes for each other." "Maybe we are." "Huh." "I'm kidding." "I wonder." "I am." Now I was getting a little worried. He was starting to turn my little game around on me and I didn't like it. So I said, "Shut the fuck up, wood pusher." "I'm just teasing you, Amy. I think you're... really..." "Oh shut up, please!" "I like you." "Thanks. I like you, too." "Do you? We haven't even kissed." "Yes, we have. You just don't remember it because you hit your head skating and got amnesia." "Serious." "I can't believe you've forgotten all about our babies! Our whole life together--" "Okay, fuck it. I don't like you." "You shouldn't like me, anyways. Why do you even like me?" "You're cool. You say the wickedest shit. You're totally fucking ho--" "Don't even finish that sentence. I mean, thanks and all, but do not say what I think you're going to say. If you say that, I will totally kick your ass." "You're blushing like crazy, dude." "I am not." I was, and I knew it from the heat I felt from inside my own face. I also couldn't believe I was occupying this end of a conversation my old self had experienced more than once from the other. Only one time had it really counted, and look where that had gotten him. I was beginning to repent my pigtails. "You're dumb to like girls. Girls suck. You should be gay. You should like guys and be gay." "No way, dude. Girls are cool." Actually, in general, I agreed. It would be stupid not to. After all, here I was living the life. But at the same time, Heidi and Ashleigh. Girls were sometimes mean as shit to each other, way worse than guys. It wasn't something I'd worked out yet. So I said, "Some of us are. Some of us are just lucky to suck less than others. And some people in general suck worse than all the other suckers combined." And that's when Bob walked up. Big Bob from Cream Corned Superstar, who was the last person I expected to see or even wanted to see. Wearing a gas station shirt and jeans and black Converse. I just got this mental flash of Michelle and inside I felt a cold and icy wind of total pain and rejection on her part and it hurt. It hurt so much it made me feel angry. I wanted to protect her. I hate him, I decided. "Amy, what's up?" Bob said, this big grin on his big, stupid face. He hadn't shaved in a few days, growing a cool guy beard or something. Bristly hairs in clumps and patches on his cheeks and chin, down his neck. A pink pimple here and there. "We were just talking about you." "Oh cool. Hey, we're playing next Thursday. Wanna come?" "School." "Oh. You guys haven't played in a while. What's up with everyone? What's that girl's name who plays guitar?" "Thelma." "Yeah, whatever." He knew I was lying to him, and he was starting to pick up on my sullen vibe. I could feel him starting to bristle in response, his ego a little bumped into, if not bruised. Coolest fucker in town, being frowned upon by a high school girl who played shitty bass in a toy band. He gave being a phony Nice Guy another try, though. "You guys still practicing or what?" "Yeah, we're doing that song from 'Rushmore.' That Rolling Stones song." "'I Am Waiting?'" "I guess. The one about 'We have a remedy' and 'You are forgiven.'" Now he went into full-on music professor mode. "That song isn't by the Rolling Stones. It's the Who. 'A Quick One.'" "It's not that quick. It's pretty long." "The song's name, kid." I felt a little jolt of adrenaline when he called me that. Kid. But all I said was, "Oh." The Who. Well, Miss Perfect Lena was going to have to suck on that one the next time we practiced, and it made me hate Bob even more for correcting both her and me. I was starting to want to kick him. Then Bob gave me this weird smile and his eyes flicked to the side before coming back at me. "So... what's... uh... Michelle up to these days? Is she doing okay?" That was it. The start button had been pushed. I had to say something. "I don't think that's any of your business, dude." "Wha--?" "I also don't think you had any fucking business ever hanging out with her." "Huh?" "And furthermore, I think you're a dick," I said. Bob looked kind of startled, shaken even. Pale face. Brain grinding gears trying to figure out what to do. Okay, for a second I was scared like he was going to hit me or something, and I was absolutely certain even though he wasn't the strongest guy in the world our whole weight and strength differential thing meant my head would explode like a melon. And Patrick would be next to useless because he wasn't so large himself. But instead of any of that happening, just when he was already looking like a Casper-ized caricature of himself, Bob just kind of turned even ghostlier and seemed to shrink. I felt this amazing surge of confidence then, because I knew I was right and I knew I had him and he wasn't about to do shit. Finally, something advantageous about being tiny! "I mean, what did you think you were doing?" I asked, but it was one of those rhetorical questions. "Hanging out with her and stuff? Inviting us to parties and whatever. You knew how old she was, dude. You fucking knew." "We didn't do anything," Bob protested. "I didn't do anything. We hung out." "Why did you even hang out?" "She wanted to. I was being--" "You were being a dick. She wanted to. Oh, fuck that. And you know what? Your band fucking sucks. There's like one good person in it and the rest of you are a bunch of pretentious fucking assholes." Bob backed away, shaking his head, this kind of half-smile on his face. "You are completely fucking insane. You and Michelle both. Completely fucking insane." "No!" I shouted. "YOU ARE!" "Insane," Bob said to the people around him as he kept backing. Then he turned and walked away. I kept my eyes on him until he was gone, then looked at Patrick, who was staring at me with this look of total rapture on his face. Eyes wide, cheeks glowing, mouth turning into a grin with those perfect white phony teeth. "That was awesome, Ayumi," he said. He started laughing. Then he stopped because I wasn't smiling at all. There was no way I could feel completely good about what had just happened unless I did one more thing. I looked Patrick right in the eyes and said, "I have to tell you something." And tell Patrick is exactly what I did. I told him everything, starting with Gina and ending with Dallas.