The only sound that was audible in the vast hallway was the sound of my skittish footsteps, despite the rather dense population milling about. All sounds had ceased the moment I stepped inside the wing, for some reason.
I suppose because no one ever sees someone like me, one of the students associated with the Fine Arts Wing, in the Performing Arts Wing. For your information, apparently there's some kind of long-standing rivalry between both departments, because of the similarities and differences both share.
Too alike or too different? That had been my question when I asked one of the literature students, and they merely shrugged and mumbled some incoherent answer about it being both, infuriating me in the process.
Make up your minds people!
"Excuse me, where can I find Dash Stryker?" I decided to try my luck with an innocent-looking freshman clutching a bookbinder, standing by a music room.
Instantly, the doe-eyed naiveté the round-face displayed morphed into a glare of hostility. I automatically took a step backwards, as the fifteen-year-old bared her teeth at me. "Why should I help a Fine Arts student?" she snarled, hackles raised.
"Fine fools, more like," an older boy standing a few feet away muttered maliciously, looking away when I turned to see him. He had a large string instrument case slung over his back. I don't like his tone, but man, do I appreciate a person who can carry something that heavy and make it look like nobody's business.
I felt my face flush in embarrassment; seriously, a senior getting told off by a freshman?
This is so not my day.
I turned away from the hostile glares of music-oriented freshmen with a mumbled apology, and started to blindly plow my way through the thick crowd of muttering Performing Arts students.
"Lost?"
The familiar voice made me turn at once. I realized that my reaction was too happy and instantaneous, but I suppose after braving through a truculent mass of students, it didn't really matter if I had lost all dignity or not.
"Dash!"
There standing by an open doorway of an empty classroom, was Dash. Dressed in black - as usual - with his gothic - or biblical? I can't really tell the difference - style on full blast, Dash was definitely the epitome of punk-rock in the department of Performing Arts students.
Also, it helps that everyone in the hallway was staring at Dash like he's some kind of god or something. Knowing him, he probably is the sun to their planet. The title to their books. The director to their orchestra. The- whatever. You get it, right?
"Looking for me?" A dark eyebrow was arched questioningly, "I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me,"
At those words, I could feel the hostile aura of the place get heavier. I made a face at Dash before walking right up next to him. "You know why I'm looking for you," I whispered, only audible for both our ears.
"I might," came his teasing reply, "I might not. It depends,"
If it weren't for the scary, murderous intent radiating and reflecting off the walls of the hallway, I would totally attempt to kill him right now.
"Please," I gritted my teeth, "I need to talk to you,"
A corner of his mouth curved upwards, and he beckoned me towards the room he had occupied earlier. "Alright, then," he sighed mockingly. The ass! "I'll give you some of my time and lend an ear to you,"
-
"If you had a wig coupled off with that ridiculous disguise of yours, then maybe I would've not noticed," Dash remarked from the chair he was sitting in, flicking his fingers towards my hair, "But don't. You'll give me Hannah Montana nightmares. It's bad enough they have Hannah Montana Forever already,"
The empty music room was dark, and had an eerie - bordering on eldritch - atmosphere, definitely a place that someone like Dash can be found in. I stood in front of Dash in a steady stance, with a hard expression that hopefully, shows that I mean business.
But judging by the way he's so happily solving a Rubik's cube whilst tilting the chair backwards to rest his feet on top of the grand piano, my attempt at bad-ass is a complete, colossal fail.
Be more subtle, why don't you?!
"Oh hardeharhar," I growled, "If you must know, my hair isn't that unique, you know,"
Looking up from playing with the Rubik's cube, Dash gave me a somewhat contemptuous glance before pretending to examine the black varnish on his nails.
"And you're always around the Babies. Now tell me, from the point of view of an ignorant bystander, is it not suspicious that the bland, plain girl with a low standing in the society called Kaitlyn Hunter, is never present for her friends' performances despite the fact that she hangs out a lot with them for some God forbidden reason?"
"Ouch?" was the only word that came to mind.
Really, just because I don't have overdeveloped boobs or super-long legs and am not wealthy doesn't mean he has the license to hurt my pride like that.
I really, really don't like him.
Dash snapped his fingers, drawing my attention back to him. "Hello? Hunter? Did you hear what I just said?"
"Of course I did," I snapped back. I'm not a dog! Nobody calls me over like I'm some sort of a common dog! "What do you think I am? Deaf?"
"Only if you can't recall what I just told you," was his infuriating, smart-alecky reply.
"I can! You were insulting me, then you said-,"
Oh.
Crap.
I hadn't thought of that.
I think Dash has some freaky ESP powers or something, because his smirk grew wider and he said, "Thought so. But I may be able to assist you in solving your conundrum,"
Conundrum. Conundrum. A confusing and difficult problem or question; mostly associated with riddles. It also can be used to describe other kinds of problems.
Oh yeah. I am so passing English with an A this term!
"In what way?" I lifted my eyebrow coolly, not wanting to let loose the fact that I was really, really tetchy and anxious on the inside.
Must. Play. Cool.
Obviously, he is so not buying my act. At all. "Ah, I do have a suggestion that might require careful... consideration."
Careful pause consideration. Those are the ones that I really need to consider carefully. "Try me,"
Dash shuffled his legs slightly, drumming his intertwined fingers against his knuckles as they rested against his abdomen. Another lazy smirk played at his lips; he looked positively devious.
I am not going to like this, am I?
"What about you hang out with me instead of them for a while?"
Emo-goth boy say what?!
The grin on his face told me he wasn't kidding. A dark eyebrow was raised; was I going to consider it or not? That was the question he was asking me with that look.
Well, this is my answer.
"Hell no," I shook my head violently, "I just want you to promise me that you won't tell anyone-," I stressed my word with a pointed glare, "-that I'm actually Lightning,"
"Oh, would you look at the time!" Dash slid off the lounge, the devilish smirk never leaving his face, "Sorry, but I've got to get going. I'm a busy man, you know,"
Yeah right, and I'm Batgirl.
Okay. I have got to stop with these dorky analogies. Stupid Jordan and his awe- dumb comics.
"Wait!" I shot forwards, blocking the open doorway with an arm stretched across it. The hallway was already empty. "You haven't agreed to keep my identity to yourself yet!"
A look a innocent confusion skillfully surfaced on Dash's face. "Identity? What identity are you talking about, pray tell me?"
You no innocent! You lie! You evil! "You know, the one about-," I faltered when a student passed by, giving us a curious stare as he went.
Sunnuva-! The sadistic douche is obviously enjoying my irrational fear of his possession of the knowledge of my psuedonym's true identity! He chuckled as he ran his heavily ringed fingers through his dark hair.
"You know, if you'd consider my altruistic offer, maybe you'll find that I'm obligated to do favours for people I consider friends," A suggestive eyebrow shot up, "Now, you're not exactly my friend, are you? You see why I asked you for careful consideration?"
Oh, I definitely see why alright. You're an ass! That goddamned blackmailer! Why is he so good at this?
"Because when I want something, I make sure I get it by playing my cards right," Dash winked devilishly before slipping past me and heading down the hallway with long-legged strides, a pace I was surely unable to match, and left me gaping helplessly in the doorway.
Stupid Dash Stryker and his damn ESP!
-
"You're disgusting,"
You know, I always imagined Dash's choice of haunts to be seedy, dark places. Y'know, since I had his archetype classified into the whole emo-grunge scene.
I was wrong.
Screw stereotyping, because emo-goth boy certainly stays far away from the dark and dangerous, with his face caked with brightly-coloured cupcake frosting.
"You eat like a pig. Wait, scratch that. You eat worse than a pig," I wrinkled my nose as I watched Dash wolf down three more rainbow-frosted cupcakes in one breath.
Dash swallowed the last mouthful of cupcake before shooting me with a pointed look. "Look who's pot calling the kettle black," he said, "That's rich, coming from someone who's had a whole strawberry cheesecake for herself. And not to mention that fact that you actually finished the whole thing in one sitting,"
I felt my cheeks burn as I pretended not to hear him. "Jump off a bridge, Stryker,"
"Which one?" a friendly, feminine voice asked.
I turned around as Dash looked up to see a woman in her mid-twenties, flour smudging her beautiful face. She tucked back dark wisps of her that feel from her loosely knotted bun behind her ear.
"Dash, obviously," I grinned, "He's being a pig. Don't you ever feel the same way as I do now, Dynah?"
Yes, people. The day where I succumb to blackmail has arrived.
Dash had merely given me a grin when I said I'd try to hang out with him. He dragged me out of campus as soon as the final bell rang, and dragged me to one of the bakeries in town, which kind of surprised me.
What, exactly, surprised me? No, it wasn't the fact that the tough-guy acting boy had an enormous sweet tooth. It was actually the fact that he's okay... sort of.
He had pushed the glass door open - more like kicked it, but who am I to reprimand him when I kick Genevieve's door open every morning? - and as I savored the smell of sugar and freshly baked bread while taking in the cheery Candy Land atmosphere the bakery had going on, Dash made a beeline for the impressive tier of cupcakes sitting on the counter.
I surmised that they were a display, but Dash snatched a blue-frosted one off from the top and bit into it. I had my jaw wide open in horror. "Hey! That's what normal people call stealing! Pay for it first!"
"I agree with him not being normal,"
Dash had raised a single eyebrow, still pigging out on the cupcake, while I had looked up to see who had spoken. It was then I met the impossibly glamorous pastry chef, Dash's older sister, Dynah Stryker. The similarities between the two was unmistakable - they both had the same blue-black hair, steel-gray eyes and ridiculous bone structure.
Damn it. Is Sandfields like an expanded version of the ANTM mansion or something?!
Dynah chuckled while Dash shot me a dirty look. I merely looked the other way, sucking on the straw of my iced tea innocently.
"Well, I'll go back to work now," Dynah wiped her hands on her smudged apron, "Enjoy!"
"We will," both Dash and I answered in unison, before shooting each other looks again.
"I didn't know you had a sister," I commented thoughtfully, looking away from Dash and at the direction where Dynah had gone, "You struck me as an only-child type,"
"You struck me as a brutally honest girl with limitless confidence," Dash retorted, obviously referring to my hiding behind a mask as the Lightning Kitty.
Touche, Goth Boy.
"Whatever," I sniffed, pouring more honey into my glass of tea, "So, why'd you want me to hang out with you anyway? You could've just asked me to pay you, you know,"
Catching Dash light up at my stupid suggestion, I quickly hastened to add, "Not like I'd do it anyway,"
Dash grinned as he contemplated on which cupcake to demolish next. The boy can really eat. "Well, you might assume that I have a lot of friends, but I actually don't have that many,"
Oh, no. I definitely did not assume that. I totally knew that you're the kind to have no friends at all. "Uh-huh," I grunted, only mildly interested in what he was saying. Majority of my attention was fixated on the cake display situated alongside the cash register.
"Hey, Kaitlyn," Dash snapped his fingers, "Listen to me here when I'm trying to be serious, will you?"
I rolled my eyes. How many times do I have to correct him until he gets the fact that I'm not a dog? Seriously, he's just like Jay sometimes.
Jay.
Right.
I haven't talked to him for more than a week now. Still busy with his new girlfriend, Meredith Ford.
An unexplainable pang hit me, but I assume it was the sugar overload taking a toll on me. I quickly pushed all thoughts of Jay to the back of my mind.
"Fine," I adopted my best expression of alertness, "Please, do enlighten me on your mind's inner workings,"
"Sarcasm is definitely one thing we have in common," Dash noted, tapping his finger against his chin, "Anyways, you're an interesting person, so I thought I'd like you have you as my friend. That's all, really. Don't you feel honored that you were especially hand-picked by me?"
"Not at all," I snorted in derision, "Get real and stop lording whatever you have over me. You must know, I'm not some gold-digging girl who only makes friends to just take advantage of people."
"Exactly my point," Dash smacked a palm against the surface of the wooden table, making the contents shake slightly. Does he really not go to the gym or something? He's rather strong for a scrawny-looking Goth Boy. "That factor is the reason why I want you to be my friend,"
"Why me, though?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "You could choose any one of those students in the Performing Arts Wing; they'd have a field day. You do realize they practically fall over themselves in your presence, right? That the crowd automatically parts just so you can walk through without any obstructions? That-,"
"Alright, alright. I've got it," Dash clamped a hand over my mouth, effectively shutting me up before removing it, "That's the reason why I can't be friends with them. It'll just be a pointless friendship, because they only admire me for my talent, and nothing else,"
Wow. I hadn't thought of that. But I guess it's true, though. Maybe that's why Ja- I mean, the guys of the band don't really have friends outside of the band, because of their statuses. I actually kind of pitied and sympathized with them for a moment, before I remembered that they have a large fanbase of girls claiming to know the real them, underneath all that glitz and glamour.
Still, I wonder if they know how the boys go about their daily lives, when they're not in school or at performing venues? Do they know that Tyson likes to draw and paint, just like me? Do they know that Leo's not a dumb blonde, but actually a super-genius with an extremely high IQ?
That Jordan's not just a band geek, but an actual, fully-fledged computer geek? That Lance likes to read a lot, especially classic literature, and that when he speaks, it's mostly discombobulating (A word that Lance taught me!) and gives you a headache?
No, they don't. Now that I think about it, Dash is right. It's hard to find real friends when you're a person with a high status.
Thinking of my friends made me realize that I hadn't been spending time with the complete circle very much, the one where Jay was included. Stupid, moronic Jay and his ludicrous antics.
Call me crazy, but I think I actually miss his stupidity.
I looked up to see Dash looking at me intently, a somewhat different smile on his face. He had that usual questioning look on his face, which made me wonder if he knew what I was thinking about.
"Hey, Dash. Is it possible to have poor, deteriorated judgement from ingesting too much sugar?" I decided to ask, since we all know that Dash spends a lot of his time watching documentaries.
Note the heavy sarcasm used there.
"Do you actually think sugar is like alcohol?" Dash chortled, "You're stupid,"
I glared at him. "I was just wondering, because I was thinking about-,"
"Stanford and the other people of your bunch?" Dash guessed. He's good. Maybe he should open a fortune-telling tent in the next carnival that comes to Sandfields.
As he looked at the expression of guilt and mild surprise on my face, Dash's smirk intensified. "Alright. I know that. I actually expected it,"
"Did you know?" Now I'm curious. How'd he know?
"I happen to have had a lot of free time on my hands this past week, and I've been observing the going-ons in the academy," Aha! He stalks people as a hobby! I knew it! "And I happen to have observed the interactions between you and Jayden Stanford. Quite a sudden aberration from your daily routine of constant bicker and banter,"
"Creep,"
"You hurt me, you really do," Dash's voice dripped with cynicism. Obviously, he was right about the one thing the both of us have in common. "So, what happened, by the way? You and Stanford have some sort of a lover's spat or something?"
"No!" I denied vehemently. Seriously, if he's that observant, why doesn't he know that Jay's got a super-gorgeous girlfriend? I think he seriously only watches Animal Planet on the television. "We don't have any romantic ties with each other!"
Dash had a disbelieving look, and I could tell he was not buying a word of what I was saying. "It's true!" I insisted, "If you don't believe me-,"
"...I could go ask him right now?" Dash suggested as he cut me off, chin resting on one hand with an elbow propped against the table with the other hand pointed behind me.
I turned around, reluctant to see the person that I'd been skillfully avoiding for the past week. I couldn't see clearly, because of the frosted glass, but I could make out the unmistakable shape of Jay as he stood in front of the doors, probably contemplating on whether to come in or not.
Shit.
I squeezed my eyes shut and starting muttering a mantra to myself. "Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please don't come in..."
The bell above the door tinkled, but it sounded more like a huge thunderstorm rumbling overhead me as I realized the awkward situation I was surely to be in when Jay realizes that I'm with Dash, the 'sworn enemy'.
I ducked my head down as Jay walked in with - surprise, surprise! - Meredith, hands linked together. For some reason, I felt sick. I think I overindulged in Dynah's cakes.
I wildly gestured at Dash in an attempt to prevent him from letting Jay realize that we were sitting a table away from him and Meredith.
"Hey there, Stanford."
Too late.
I suppose because no one ever sees someone like me, one of the students associated with the Fine Arts Wing, in the Performing Arts Wing. For your information, apparently there's some kind of long-standing rivalry between both departments, because of the similarities and differences both share.
Too alike or too different? That had been my question when I asked one of the literature students, and they merely shrugged and mumbled some incoherent answer about it being both, infuriating me in the process.
Make up your minds people!
"Excuse me, where can I find Dash Stryker?" I decided to try my luck with an innocent-looking freshman clutching a bookbinder, standing by a music room.
Instantly, the doe-eyed naiveté the round-face displayed morphed into a glare of hostility. I automatically took a step backwards, as the fifteen-year-old bared her teeth at me. "Why should I help a Fine Arts student?" she snarled, hackles raised.
"Fine fools, more like," an older boy standing a few feet away muttered maliciously, looking away when I turned to see him. He had a large string instrument case slung over his back. I don't like his tone, but man, do I appreciate a person who can carry something that heavy and make it look like nobody's business.
I felt my face flush in embarrassment; seriously, a senior getting told off by a freshman?
This is so not my day.
I turned away from the hostile glares of music-oriented freshmen with a mumbled apology, and started to blindly plow my way through the thick crowd of muttering Performing Arts students.
"Lost?"
The familiar voice made me turn at once. I realized that my reaction was too happy and instantaneous, but I suppose after braving through a truculent mass of students, it didn't really matter if I had lost all dignity or not.
"Dash!"
There standing by an open doorway of an empty classroom, was Dash. Dressed in black - as usual - with his gothic - or biblical? I can't really tell the difference - style on full blast, Dash was definitely the epitome of punk-rock in the department of Performing Arts students.
Also, it helps that everyone in the hallway was staring at Dash like he's some kind of god or something. Knowing him, he probably is the sun to their planet. The title to their books. The director to their orchestra. The- whatever. You get it, right?
"Looking for me?" A dark eyebrow was arched questioningly, "I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me,"
At those words, I could feel the hostile aura of the place get heavier. I made a face at Dash before walking right up next to him. "You know why I'm looking for you," I whispered, only audible for both our ears.
"I might," came his teasing reply, "I might not. It depends,"
If it weren't for the scary, murderous intent radiating and reflecting off the walls of the hallway, I would totally attempt to kill him right now.
"Please," I gritted my teeth, "I need to talk to you,"
A corner of his mouth curved upwards, and he beckoned me towards the room he had occupied earlier. "Alright, then," he sighed mockingly. The ass! "I'll give you some of my time and lend an ear to you,"
-
"If you had a wig coupled off with that ridiculous disguise of yours, then maybe I would've not noticed," Dash remarked from the chair he was sitting in, flicking his fingers towards my hair, "But don't. You'll give me Hannah Montana nightmares. It's bad enough they have Hannah Montana Forever already,"
The empty music room was dark, and had an eerie - bordering on eldritch - atmosphere, definitely a place that someone like Dash can be found in. I stood in front of Dash in a steady stance, with a hard expression that hopefully, shows that I mean business.
But judging by the way he's so happily solving a Rubik's cube whilst tilting the chair backwards to rest his feet on top of the grand piano, my attempt at bad-ass is a complete, colossal fail.
Be more subtle, why don't you?!
"Oh hardeharhar," I growled, "If you must know, my hair isn't that unique, you know,"
Looking up from playing with the Rubik's cube, Dash gave me a somewhat contemptuous glance before pretending to examine the black varnish on his nails.
"And you're always around the Babies. Now tell me, from the point of view of an ignorant bystander, is it not suspicious that the bland, plain girl with a low standing in the society called Kaitlyn Hunter, is never present for her friends' performances despite the fact that she hangs out a lot with them for some God forbidden reason?"
"Ouch?" was the only word that came to mind.
Really, just because I don't have overdeveloped boobs or super-long legs and am not wealthy doesn't mean he has the license to hurt my pride like that.
I really, really don't like him.
Dash snapped his fingers, drawing my attention back to him. "Hello? Hunter? Did you hear what I just said?"
"Of course I did," I snapped back. I'm not a dog! Nobody calls me over like I'm some sort of a common dog! "What do you think I am? Deaf?"
"Only if you can't recall what I just told you," was his infuriating, smart-alecky reply.
"I can! You were insulting me, then you said-,"
Oh.
Crap.
I hadn't thought of that.
I think Dash has some freaky ESP powers or something, because his smirk grew wider and he said, "Thought so. But I may be able to assist you in solving your conundrum,"
Conundrum. Conundrum. A confusing and difficult problem or question; mostly associated with riddles. It also can be used to describe other kinds of problems.
Oh yeah. I am so passing English with an A this term!
"In what way?" I lifted my eyebrow coolly, not wanting to let loose the fact that I was really, really tetchy and anxious on the inside.
Must. Play. Cool.
Obviously, he is so not buying my act. At all. "Ah, I do have a suggestion that might require careful... consideration."
Careful pause consideration. Those are the ones that I really need to consider carefully. "Try me,"
Dash shuffled his legs slightly, drumming his intertwined fingers against his knuckles as they rested against his abdomen. Another lazy smirk played at his lips; he looked positively devious.
I am not going to like this, am I?
"What about you hang out with me instead of them for a while?"
Emo-goth boy say what?!
The grin on his face told me he wasn't kidding. A dark eyebrow was raised; was I going to consider it or not? That was the question he was asking me with that look.
Well, this is my answer.
"Hell no," I shook my head violently, "I just want you to promise me that you won't tell anyone-," I stressed my word with a pointed glare, "-that I'm actually Lightning,"
"Oh, would you look at the time!" Dash slid off the lounge, the devilish smirk never leaving his face, "Sorry, but I've got to get going. I'm a busy man, you know,"
Yeah right, and I'm Batgirl.
Okay. I have got to stop with these dorky analogies. Stupid Jordan and his awe- dumb comics.
"Wait!" I shot forwards, blocking the open doorway with an arm stretched across it. The hallway was already empty. "You haven't agreed to keep my identity to yourself yet!"
A look a innocent confusion skillfully surfaced on Dash's face. "Identity? What identity are you talking about, pray tell me?"
You no innocent! You lie! You evil! "You know, the one about-," I faltered when a student passed by, giving us a curious stare as he went.
Sunnuva-! The sadistic douche is obviously enjoying my irrational fear of his possession of the knowledge of my psuedonym's true identity! He chuckled as he ran his heavily ringed fingers through his dark hair.
"You know, if you'd consider my altruistic offer, maybe you'll find that I'm obligated to do favours for people I consider friends," A suggestive eyebrow shot up, "Now, you're not exactly my friend, are you? You see why I asked you for careful consideration?"
Oh, I definitely see why alright. You're an ass! That goddamned blackmailer! Why is he so good at this?
"Because when I want something, I make sure I get it by playing my cards right," Dash winked devilishly before slipping past me and heading down the hallway with long-legged strides, a pace I was surely unable to match, and left me gaping helplessly in the doorway.
Stupid Dash Stryker and his damn ESP!
-
"You're disgusting,"
You know, I always imagined Dash's choice of haunts to be seedy, dark places. Y'know, since I had his archetype classified into the whole emo-grunge scene.
I was wrong.
Screw stereotyping, because emo-goth boy certainly stays far away from the dark and dangerous, with his face caked with brightly-coloured cupcake frosting.
"You eat like a pig. Wait, scratch that. You eat worse than a pig," I wrinkled my nose as I watched Dash wolf down three more rainbow-frosted cupcakes in one breath.
Dash swallowed the last mouthful of cupcake before shooting me with a pointed look. "Look who's pot calling the kettle black," he said, "That's rich, coming from someone who's had a whole strawberry cheesecake for herself. And not to mention that fact that you actually finished the whole thing in one sitting,"
I felt my cheeks burn as I pretended not to hear him. "Jump off a bridge, Stryker,"
"Which one?" a friendly, feminine voice asked.
I turned around as Dash looked up to see a woman in her mid-twenties, flour smudging her beautiful face. She tucked back dark wisps of her that feel from her loosely knotted bun behind her ear.
"Dash, obviously," I grinned, "He's being a pig. Don't you ever feel the same way as I do now, Dynah?"
Yes, people. The day where I succumb to blackmail has arrived.
Dash had merely given me a grin when I said I'd try to hang out with him. He dragged me out of campus as soon as the final bell rang, and dragged me to one of the bakeries in town, which kind of surprised me.
What, exactly, surprised me? No, it wasn't the fact that the tough-guy acting boy had an enormous sweet tooth. It was actually the fact that he's okay... sort of.
He had pushed the glass door open - more like kicked it, but who am I to reprimand him when I kick Genevieve's door open every morning? - and as I savored the smell of sugar and freshly baked bread while taking in the cheery Candy Land atmosphere the bakery had going on, Dash made a beeline for the impressive tier of cupcakes sitting on the counter.
I surmised that they were a display, but Dash snatched a blue-frosted one off from the top and bit into it. I had my jaw wide open in horror. "Hey! That's what normal people call stealing! Pay for it first!"
"I agree with him not being normal,"
Dash had raised a single eyebrow, still pigging out on the cupcake, while I had looked up to see who had spoken. It was then I met the impossibly glamorous pastry chef, Dash's older sister, Dynah Stryker. The similarities between the two was unmistakable - they both had the same blue-black hair, steel-gray eyes and ridiculous bone structure.
Damn it. Is Sandfields like an expanded version of the ANTM mansion or something?!
Presently, Dynah made a face, shuddering involuntarily as she did so. "A time too many," she said in an exaggerated whisper in reply to my question, "He always offers to be my culinary guinea pig, no matter kind of of ingredients I use in my cakes. I can vividly recall an insect experiment once after watching an episode of the Big Bang Theory,"
"Caterpillar mango wasn't too bad," Dash said mildly, breaking a piece off a frosted cookie, "I could hardly taste the bug. Y'know, I heard that eating non-poisonous insects are beneficial to your health, with all that protein goodness,"
I cocked an eyebrow. "And where'd you get that off? Timon and Pumbaa from the Lion King?"
"While I appreciate the riveting story of that movie about the lost lion cub of Pride Rock, no. I got it off a documentary on Animal Planet," Dash reached for another cupcake from the stand on the table.
"If you eat this much all the time, why don't you ever get fat?" I asked, curious, "Do you work out a lot or something?"
Dash snickered as he licked the frosting off his fingers. "Me? Work out?" he looked like he'd just heard a particularly funny joke, "Emo-goth boys like me don't do stuff like that. We have awesome metabolism,"
Damn narcissist. "Is that synonymous for 'private yoga sessions'?" I asked sardonically.
Dynah chuckled while Dash shot me a dirty look. I merely looked the other way, sucking on the straw of my iced tea innocently.
"Well, I'll go back to work now," Dynah wiped her hands on her smudged apron, "Enjoy!"
"We will," both Dash and I answered in unison, before shooting each other looks again.
"I didn't know you had a sister," I commented thoughtfully, looking away from Dash and at the direction where Dynah had gone, "You struck me as an only-child type,"
"You struck me as a brutally honest girl with limitless confidence," Dash retorted, obviously referring to my hiding behind a mask as the Lightning Kitty.
Touche, Goth Boy.
"Whatever," I sniffed, pouring more honey into my glass of tea, "So, why'd you want me to hang out with you anyway? You could've just asked me to pay you, you know,"
Catching Dash light up at my stupid suggestion, I quickly hastened to add, "Not like I'd do it anyway,"
Dash grinned as he contemplated on which cupcake to demolish next. The boy can really eat. "Well, you might assume that I have a lot of friends, but I actually don't have that many,"
Oh, no. I definitely did not assume that. I totally knew that you're the kind to have no friends at all. "Uh-huh," I grunted, only mildly interested in what he was saying. Majority of my attention was fixated on the cake display situated alongside the cash register.
"Hey, Kaitlyn," Dash snapped his fingers, "Listen to me here when I'm trying to be serious, will you?"
I rolled my eyes. How many times do I have to correct him until he gets the fact that I'm not a dog? Seriously, he's just like Jay sometimes.
Jay.
Right.
I haven't talked to him for more than a week now. Still busy with his new girlfriend, Meredith Ford.
An unexplainable pang hit me, but I assume it was the sugar overload taking a toll on me. I quickly pushed all thoughts of Jay to the back of my mind.
"Fine," I adopted my best expression of alertness, "Please, do enlighten me on your mind's inner workings,"
"Sarcasm is definitely one thing we have in common," Dash noted, tapping his finger against his chin, "Anyways, you're an interesting person, so I thought I'd like you have you as my friend. That's all, really. Don't you feel honored that you were especially hand-picked by me?"
"Not at all," I snorted in derision, "Get real and stop lording whatever you have over me. You must know, I'm not some gold-digging girl who only makes friends to just take advantage of people."
"Exactly my point," Dash smacked a palm against the surface of the wooden table, making the contents shake slightly. Does he really not go to the gym or something? He's rather strong for a scrawny-looking Goth Boy. "That factor is the reason why I want you to be my friend,"
"Why me, though?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "You could choose any one of those students in the Performing Arts Wing; they'd have a field day. You do realize they practically fall over themselves in your presence, right? That the crowd automatically parts just so you can walk through without any obstructions? That-,"
"Alright, alright. I've got it," Dash clamped a hand over my mouth, effectively shutting me up before removing it, "That's the reason why I can't be friends with them. It'll just be a pointless friendship, because they only admire me for my talent, and nothing else,"
Wow. I hadn't thought of that. But I guess it's true, though. Maybe that's why Ja- I mean, the guys of the band don't really have friends outside of the band, because of their statuses. I actually kind of pitied and sympathized with them for a moment, before I remembered that they have a large fanbase of girls claiming to know the real them, underneath all that glitz and glamour.
Still, I wonder if they know how the boys go about their daily lives, when they're not in school or at performing venues? Do they know that Tyson likes to draw and paint, just like me? Do they know that Leo's not a dumb blonde, but actually a super-genius with an extremely high IQ?
That Jordan's not just a band geek, but an actual, fully-fledged computer geek? That Lance likes to read a lot, especially classic literature, and that when he speaks, it's mostly discombobulating (A word that Lance taught me!) and gives you a headache?
No, they don't. Now that I think about it, Dash is right. It's hard to find real friends when you're a person with a high status.
Thinking of my friends made me realize that I hadn't been spending time with the complete circle very much, the one where Jay was included. Stupid, moronic Jay and his ludicrous antics.
Call me crazy, but I think I actually miss his stupidity.
I looked up to see Dash looking at me intently, a somewhat different smile on his face. He had that usual questioning look on his face, which made me wonder if he knew what I was thinking about.
"Hey, Dash. Is it possible to have poor, deteriorated judgement from ingesting too much sugar?" I decided to ask, since we all know that Dash spends a lot of his time watching documentaries.
Note the heavy sarcasm used there.
"Do you actually think sugar is like alcohol?" Dash chortled, "You're stupid,"
I glared at him. "I was just wondering, because I was thinking about-,"
"Stanford and the other people of your bunch?" Dash guessed. He's good. Maybe he should open a fortune-telling tent in the next carnival that comes to Sandfields.
As he looked at the expression of guilt and mild surprise on my face, Dash's smirk intensified. "Alright. I know that. I actually expected it,"
"Did you know?" Now I'm curious. How'd he know?
"I happen to have had a lot of free time on my hands this past week, and I've been observing the going-ons in the academy," Aha! He stalks people as a hobby! I knew it! "And I happen to have observed the interactions between you and Jayden Stanford. Quite a sudden aberration from your daily routine of constant bicker and banter,"
"Creep,"
"You hurt me, you really do," Dash's voice dripped with cynicism. Obviously, he was right about the one thing the both of us have in common. "So, what happened, by the way? You and Stanford have some sort of a lover's spat or something?"
"No!" I denied vehemently. Seriously, if he's that observant, why doesn't he know that Jay's got a super-gorgeous girlfriend? I think he seriously only watches Animal Planet on the television. "We don't have any romantic ties with each other!"
Dash had a disbelieving look, and I could tell he was not buying a word of what I was saying. "It's true!" I insisted, "If you don't believe me-,"
"...I could go ask him right now?" Dash suggested as he cut me off, chin resting on one hand with an elbow propped against the table with the other hand pointed behind me.
I turned around, reluctant to see the person that I'd been skillfully avoiding for the past week. I couldn't see clearly, because of the frosted glass, but I could make out the unmistakable shape of Jay as he stood in front of the doors, probably contemplating on whether to come in or not.
Shit.
I squeezed my eyes shut and starting muttering a mantra to myself. "Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please don't come in..."
The bell above the door tinkled, but it sounded more like a huge thunderstorm rumbling overhead me as I realized the awkward situation I was surely to be in when Jay realizes that I'm with Dash, the 'sworn enemy'.
I ducked my head down as Jay walked in with - surprise, surprise! - Meredith, hands linked together. For some reason, I felt sick. I think I overindulged in Dynah's cakes.
I wildly gestured at Dash in an attempt to prevent him from letting Jay realize that we were sitting a table away from him and Meredith.
"Hey there, Stanford."
Too late.
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