[HEY! So I get two days off school for Hurricane Sandy, so I'm writing! I actually read all your 'Why Fletcher Dumped Chyna' suggestions, and some were really good. I didn't even think of some. So, I merged a few together. See if you can pick out yours!
Sorry this chapter took sooo long. I started it before Sandy and it's taken this long. School has been backing me up.]
And so I left the sound booth.
"Why?" I said as I walked over to Fletcher.
"Why'd you dump Chyna?"
"What does a highly sugary drink have to do with anything?"
"It was a mix of alcohol and Red Viper."
I stood there a minute and three seconds. And then I thought about how clearly I remembered the party Chyna dragged me to on the first day she was at this school. Granted, I have an eidetic memory, but it was oddly clear. More than usual. Then it me. "You remember."
"It was..." He trailed off.
"It was," I said and nodded. He shot me a wayward glance.
"Are you pregnant?"
"I guess I was also scared you had a mini me in 'there'." He made some bizarre gestures around my abdomen and I stifled a smile.
"How'd Chyna take it when you dumped her?"
"Could've been worse. Could've been better." Oh God. I hope we're not going to be all vague now. "Anyway, it's all weird to talk about this here. Wanna talk later? IHOW at three?"
I nodded. "I'll be there."
I breezed through the rest of the day feeling both elated and like an ass-hole. I had a date with Fletcher. This could go one of 3,627 ways. Only 1,093 of those ways are positive. I hope it's one of those.
After school I sat cross legged on my bed writing down the rules of the friend code and crossing off any I'd broken.
̶T̶h̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶h̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶d̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶'̶s̶ ̶c̶u̶r̶r̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶.̶ ̶E̶v̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶U̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶c̶i̶r̶c̶u̶m̶s̶t̶a̶n̶c̶e̶s̶.̶
̶T̶h̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶h̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶d̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶'̶s̶ ̶e̶x̶-̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶ ̶u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶w̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ ̶m̶o̶n̶t̶h̶ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶p̶a̶s̶s̶e̶d̶.̶
̶T̶h̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶h̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶d̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶'̶s̶ ̶e̶x̶ ̶u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶s̶i̶x̶ ̶m̶o̶n̶t̶h̶s̶ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶e̶.̶
̶T̶h̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶h̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶-̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶-̶s̶t̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶a̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶'̶s̶ ̶c̶u̶r̶r̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶.̶ ̶E̶v̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶U̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶c̶i̶r̶c̶u̶m̶s̶t̶a̶n̶c̶e̶s̶.̶
̶T̶h̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶h̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶-̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶-̶s̶t̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶a̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶'̶s̶ ̶e̶x̶-̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶ ̶u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶f̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶w̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ ̶m̶o̶n̶t̶h̶s̶ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶p̶a̶s̶s̶e̶d̶.̶
̶T̶h̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶h̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶-̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶-̶s̶t̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶a̶ ̶f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶'̶s̶ ̶e̶x̶ ̶u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶a̶ ̶y̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶e̶.̶
Wow. That was a waste of my time.
I looked at the clock. Two thirty. I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and a teal tank top. I threw a pink sweater with nerdy cats embroidered on the breast pocket over that, grabbed my purse, and began the walk to the trolley.
Fletcher was already at the trolley stop when I got there. We stood awkwardly until the trolley came and we got off at IHOW. He held the door open for me as I stepped inside.
"Welcome to the International House of Whatever," Lexi greeted us as we walked into the restaurant. "Today's theme is mustaches. Milk mustaches. Mustache pasta. Even mustache bean-bag chairs for you to sit in."
"This reminds me of my first date with Chyna," Fletcher said. "It started just like this."
I sighed. Fletcher really did just want to talk. He would never be over Chyna.
"It reminds me of when we tortured Lexi, but it backfired so badly." I laughed and Fletcher smiled.
"When I dumped Chyna, she didn't really take it well," Fletcher said, starting the conversation we came here to have. "She asked why but I didn't tell her. She'd blame it on you, and I didn't want you to be hurt anymore than you deserved. I mean, you really did mess up."
I heaved my shoulders, and Fletcher went on. "You're an awesome girl, Olive." He sat down on a bean-bag chair and I did, too. We both ordered a cup of hot-chocolate. The straws had little mustaches that when you drank from them sat on your upper lip. "And I have a question about that." Fletcher used his straw to blow a few things into his hot coco and swirl the whipped cream around. Then he passed it to me. Written in the foam was one question.
"Will you be my girlfriend?" He asked and the coco read. Why did I give the answer I did?
[K, so sorry this chap. is so short. But now I want your opinion on something else. What did Olive answer, and why?]