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sporkess, because she mentioned it and I wanted to give it a whirl. Kitty approves, but we shall await Spork's verdict before I am satisfied ^^;; Totally goofy and pointless.
George ran like his life depended on it.
Damn it, why did girls always cry?
Mama said it wasn’t a bad thing, but given the way the boys always wanted to beat him up about it, George kinda had to wonder.
He heard the scuff of feet on pavement as the guys came after him. Damn it damn it damn it. He still had the bruises from the last time!
Swearing, George bolted into an alleyway, turned a sharp left at the end – and crashed into something hard, going down with a crash and oomph.
Except a second later he realized the oomph wasn’t him.
George scrambled up, watching his elbows and knees as best he could, and realized with a sick twist in his stomach just who he’d crashed into. It figured. His day had sucked right from the start.
Woke up late.
Got to school late.
Failed his history test.
Had to make it up the day he was supposed to go the concert, so now he probably wouldn’t make the concert.
Stephanie asked him out, and he’d turned her down and when he’d kissed her cheek in apology she’d started crying.
Now her brother and the rest of the Beat Georgie Porgie Up Squad was after him.
And now he’d knocked over the reason he kept telling girls no.
Damn it damn it damn it.
Stifling a sudden desire to just run down the street screaming until someone put him out of his misery or his dad caught him and put him out of everyone’s misery, George reached down and helped Casey to his feet.
He cringed to see how effectively he’d ruined the poor guy. Casey was a neat freak, which endlessly fascinated George. It’d been the first thing he’d noticed. The guy was never dirty. Nut brown hair always perfectly cut and brushed, skin somehow always just the right touch of tanned, making his green eyes oh so greener. Unlike the rest of them, he made the school uniform – dark blue polo and khakis – look good. Pants pressed, shirt perfect.
Except now he was covered in whatever grime covered the ground of the alleyway. Hair mussed, shirt askew. George wondered longingly at his chances of being struck by lightning. Or maybe he could just go play in traffic…
Damn it, girls were easy to talk to. Why did he always turn stupid around Casey? “Uh, sorry about that. Are you okay?”
“Making girls cry again, Georgie?”
Well, that was uncalled for. Casey had always seemed like a nice guy…from way across the room where he wouldn’t catch George trying very hard not to stare at him. He’d always been polite and stuff to the other guys, the girls. Why was he being so goddamn icey to George? Man, he really couldn’t take much more of this today. “Go to hell,” he said, but it came out tired rather than angry. He just didn’t have it in him anymore.
Feet pounded to a halt behind him and George looked up at the sky. Not a cloud in it. He couldn’t hear any cars either. Looked like he was just going to get pulverized to death.
“Hey, Georgie Porgie.”
Fucking hell he hated that name. Couldn’t a guy outgrow elementary school?
“You made Steph cry.”
“Shut up, Marty,” Casey said. “You know nothing about it.”
“Oh, yeah? Like you fucking do?”
Casey merely lifted one brow in a way that should have looked ridiculous but instead made George glad the look wasn’t directed at him. “I do, actually,” Casey said coolly. “Try asking the girls next time why they’re crying, you might learn something. Then again, you still can’t tie your shoes.”
Marty glared. “We can take of you while we take care of him, Givens.”
Casey snorted. “Yeah, and when I get home tonight I’ll be sure to tell your mom why I’m all banged up.” He grinned. It wasn’t a nice one. “Neighbor.”
“Shut the fuck up. Georgie Porgie, we’ll get you later.”
George stared as the four guys walked away…and he was standing. No bruises. Huh. He turned back to Casey. “Thanks. Though it sounded to me like you were inclined to help them.”
Casey rolled his eyes and began to straighten his clothes and hair. “I don’t care what you do, though it seems to me if you were interested in not getting your face smashed you could try finding a different way to tell girls you’re not interested.”
“S’what my mom said to do,” George said, cheeks heating. “She says I’m doing it right, and I figure another girl would know better than me.” He rubbed the back of his head, feeling stupid and tired and his usual awkward, bumbling self.
His mom said he’d grow into himself eventually, and would only break more hearts because of it. ‘Boy next door looks’ she said, ‘knocked the girls out every single time. Especially the blue eyes, baby, just like your father.’
Except his blue eyes only got the girls and that didn’t get him anything but beat up. His dad said he should count himself lucky, women were nothing but trouble even when you liked them.
Casey shrugged. “I guess.”
“Look, I’m sorry I knocked you down.”
“I’ll live.” Casey was giving him a funny look. “So why did you turn down six of the most popular girls on campus? And apparently twelve less popular.”
Fifteen, actually, but George wasn’t in a hurry to make the correction. “Not interested, I guess.” He flicked a quick, hesitant glance at Casey but couldn’t hold it. He should go.
“You’re not interested in any of twenty some girls?” Casey asked, those green eyes pinning him in place.
And was it just him and his wishful thinking or was Casey suddenly a lot closer than he had been a moment ago?
“You must be picky, dead, or gay.”
George wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to answer that. “Uh—what the hell do you care?”
Casey smirked. “Well, if you’re picky then you’ve got a lot of problems. If you’re dead…that would be even more problems. But if you’re gay, we could maybe study at my house and freak out Marty when he comes home later. His bedroom is right across from mine.”
Must. Breathe. Passing out would be totally uncool right now. “Freak out?” That so did not come out a squeak. He refused to admit maybe it had.
“Yeah. I won’t cry if you kiss me.”
“You’re supposed to be the quiet geek boy.” George shook his head, certain he must have cracked it on something and was currently bleeding to death on the pavement. He looked around briefly for his corpse, half-expecting to find it, slightly puzzled when he didn’t.
Casey rolled his eyes. “Because studying hard and not looking like I just rolled out of bed makes me a geek.”
George blinked. “Casey, it does make you a geek.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a geek asking if you want to come study and make out and scare the living daylights out of Marty. Yes or no?”
“How about ‘hell yes’?” George asked, giving up, giving in. The worst that could happen was another beating and the best that could happen was a make out session with his long-time crush.
Casey flashed a grin that George knew he’d never seen before in school, then turned and led the way from the alley.
sporkess, because she mentioned it and I wanted to give it a whirl. Kitty approves, but we shall await Spork's verdict before I am satisfied ^^;; Totally goofy and pointless.George ran like his life depended on it.
Damn it, why did girls always cry?
Mama said it wasn’t a bad thing, but given the way the boys always wanted to beat him up about it, George kinda had to wonder.
He heard the scuff of feet on pavement as the guys came after him. Damn it damn it damn it. He still had the bruises from the last time!
Swearing, George bolted into an alleyway, turned a sharp left at the end – and crashed into something hard, going down with a crash and oomph.
Except a second later he realized the oomph wasn’t him.
George scrambled up, watching his elbows and knees as best he could, and realized with a sick twist in his stomach just who he’d crashed into. It figured. His day had sucked right from the start.
Woke up late.
Got to school late.
Failed his history test.
Had to make it up the day he was supposed to go the concert, so now he probably wouldn’t make the concert.
Stephanie asked him out, and he’d turned her down and when he’d kissed her cheek in apology she’d started crying.
Now her brother and the rest of the Beat Georgie Porgie Up Squad was after him.
And now he’d knocked over the reason he kept telling girls no.
Damn it damn it damn it.
Stifling a sudden desire to just run down the street screaming until someone put him out of his misery or his dad caught him and put him out of everyone’s misery, George reached down and helped Casey to his feet.
He cringed to see how effectively he’d ruined the poor guy. Casey was a neat freak, which endlessly fascinated George. It’d been the first thing he’d noticed. The guy was never dirty. Nut brown hair always perfectly cut and brushed, skin somehow always just the right touch of tanned, making his green eyes oh so greener. Unlike the rest of them, he made the school uniform – dark blue polo and khakis – look good. Pants pressed, shirt perfect.
Except now he was covered in whatever grime covered the ground of the alleyway. Hair mussed, shirt askew. George wondered longingly at his chances of being struck by lightning. Or maybe he could just go play in traffic…
Damn it, girls were easy to talk to. Why did he always turn stupid around Casey? “Uh, sorry about that. Are you okay?”
“Making girls cry again, Georgie?”
Well, that was uncalled for. Casey had always seemed like a nice guy…from way across the room where he wouldn’t catch George trying very hard not to stare at him. He’d always been polite and stuff to the other guys, the girls. Why was he being so goddamn icey to George? Man, he really couldn’t take much more of this today. “Go to hell,” he said, but it came out tired rather than angry. He just didn’t have it in him anymore.
Feet pounded to a halt behind him and George looked up at the sky. Not a cloud in it. He couldn’t hear any cars either. Looked like he was just going to get pulverized to death.
“Hey, Georgie Porgie.”
Fucking hell he hated that name. Couldn’t a guy outgrow elementary school?
“You made Steph cry.”
“Shut up, Marty,” Casey said. “You know nothing about it.”
“Oh, yeah? Like you fucking do?”
Casey merely lifted one brow in a way that should have looked ridiculous but instead made George glad the look wasn’t directed at him. “I do, actually,” Casey said coolly. “Try asking the girls next time why they’re crying, you might learn something. Then again, you still can’t tie your shoes.”
Marty glared. “We can take of you while we take care of him, Givens.”
Casey snorted. “Yeah, and when I get home tonight I’ll be sure to tell your mom why I’m all banged up.” He grinned. It wasn’t a nice one. “Neighbor.”
“Shut the fuck up. Georgie Porgie, we’ll get you later.”
George stared as the four guys walked away…and he was standing. No bruises. Huh. He turned back to Casey. “Thanks. Though it sounded to me like you were inclined to help them.”
Casey rolled his eyes and began to straighten his clothes and hair. “I don’t care what you do, though it seems to me if you were interested in not getting your face smashed you could try finding a different way to tell girls you’re not interested.”
“S’what my mom said to do,” George said, cheeks heating. “She says I’m doing it right, and I figure another girl would know better than me.” He rubbed the back of his head, feeling stupid and tired and his usual awkward, bumbling self.
His mom said he’d grow into himself eventually, and would only break more hearts because of it. ‘Boy next door looks’ she said, ‘knocked the girls out every single time. Especially the blue eyes, baby, just like your father.’
Except his blue eyes only got the girls and that didn’t get him anything but beat up. His dad said he should count himself lucky, women were nothing but trouble even when you liked them.
Casey shrugged. “I guess.”
“Look, I’m sorry I knocked you down.”
“I’ll live.” Casey was giving him a funny look. “So why did you turn down six of the most popular girls on campus? And apparently twelve less popular.”
Fifteen, actually, but George wasn’t in a hurry to make the correction. “Not interested, I guess.” He flicked a quick, hesitant glance at Casey but couldn’t hold it. He should go.
“You’re not interested in any of twenty some girls?” Casey asked, those green eyes pinning him in place.
And was it just him and his wishful thinking or was Casey suddenly a lot closer than he had been a moment ago?
“You must be picky, dead, or gay.”
George wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to answer that. “Uh—what the hell do you care?”
Casey smirked. “Well, if you’re picky then you’ve got a lot of problems. If you’re dead…that would be even more problems. But if you’re gay, we could maybe study at my house and freak out Marty when he comes home later. His bedroom is right across from mine.”
Must. Breathe. Passing out would be totally uncool right now. “Freak out?” That so did not come out a squeak. He refused to admit maybe it had.
“Yeah. I won’t cry if you kiss me.”
“You’re supposed to be the quiet geek boy.” George shook his head, certain he must have cracked it on something and was currently bleeding to death on the pavement. He looked around briefly for his corpse, half-expecting to find it, slightly puzzled when he didn’t.
Casey rolled his eyes. “Because studying hard and not looking like I just rolled out of bed makes me a geek.”
George blinked. “Casey, it does make you a geek.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a geek asking if you want to come study and make out and scare the living daylights out of Marty. Yes or no?”
“How about ‘hell yes’?” George asked, giving up, giving in. The worst that could happen was another beating and the best that could happen was a make out session with his long-time crush.
Casey flashed a grin that George knew he’d never seen before in school, then turned and led the way from the alley.
