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“Props? What kind of stupid-ass name is that?”
“Right. Because while he’s actually earned his name, you have friends by the name of Rooters and Helms. Not to mention the very original nickname of using last names instead of first names. Because those aren’t lame.” I needed to stand up for Props, I kind of liked him. He had potential and he was a good resource for future reference.
“Shut up,” Tray moaned.
“I just got bitched out by Mandy’s coach, I won’t shut up.”
“Oh fuck!” Tray started to laugh. The sound was very irritating.
If I wasn’t peppy, he couldn’t be either.
“Shut up.”
“Oh, fuck, this is hilarious.”
“What is?” I asked warily.
“The cheerleading coach is the counselor.”
Oh…fuck.
I hung up on his laughing ass.
I ended up camping out on the picnic tables, set up on the lawn right next to the parking lot. Talking to Tray had helped calm my inner need for an adrenalin rush—he was enough of an adrenalin rush on his own. So, after my second trip for coffee, I got some homework done instead.
The second I saw Props, I was off and hurrying his way. The dude could walk, it was close to a half-sprint. I almost lost him, bu
t I managed to see him swerve into a backroom, somewhere, and I quickly rushed inside.
I was surrounded by computer geek heaven.
There were computers—everywhere—complete with head-sets, cameras, and an actual Lord of the Rings 3D statue in the corner. They liked Aragorn.
“Hey!” I called out.
Props popped his head out from behind a doorway. “Hi!” He was surprised, to say the least, but he looked excited.
I grabbed my bag and dug out the tickets and backstage passes.
Handing them over, I informed him, “These are for you. Show up at six-thirty, sharp. She’s expecting you.”
“Oh…wow. I mean…oh…oh…”
The guy had gone to Nanaland.
I patted him on the shoulder. “Have fun. Be cool, treat her like shit, and you’ll be getting laid by the first set.”
Then I left.
When I got home, I was surprised to see Austin in the kitchen.
He grunted in response. Such an eighth grade, brotherly response.
“Hi,” I replied a little uncertainly. He seemed normal, but he didn’t usually let a whole lot of emotion show. “Have you been upstairs?”
Just then a Pop-Tart jumped out of the toaster, and he grabbed it. “Do you mean, did I see Mandy’s trashed room?” he asked.
That’d be a yes. A big fat yes.
