Date: Sun, 07 Dec 2003 22:28:21 -0600 From: Karla Schulz Subject: The Preppie and The Punk Chapter One Right. So. The standard lines about ages and legality and stuff should appear, but I'm lazy, so imagine them. Other explanatory notes include: This is a story that's been around since I wrote it back in the day (otherwise known as the 11th grade). Felt like posting it. Don't know why. Probabaly cause the guilt of depriving the masses was finally getting to me. I'm also the genius behind Carrots and Celery, but this was written first. If you let me know what you think of it, there's a good chance I'll love you forever. Cow-hating peg sez: There's a time for peace and a Time to get funky! --- I'd noticed him, because even at our school a guy like that gets noticed. At least by someone like me. I'd definitely seen him before, but not like this, never up close. Always from relatively far away. A few meters at least. Across the classroom, or cafeteria, or in the hallway. He was in my grade, that much I knew, but only in a few of my classes. I didn't know his name. But I knew his crowd, his favorite bands (just judging by his clothes, always band T-shirts), and probably his opinion of me. Not that we'd ever spoken a word to each other. Not that he knew my name either, he probably barely knew my face. Not enough to pick me out of a group of people dressed just like me. Never in a line up or anything, or so I thought at the time. It was nothing against me personally, how could it be, if he didn't know me? It was my crowd. My friends, probably too, my money. I had arrived at this school not knowing. No one told me how things worked like the day before or anything. I was just thrown into the ring, completely in the dark. I wore the kind of clothes I always wore, they were expensive only because my parents usually bought them for me, or sent me to stores where nothing was cheap. How could I help it if I had never been to a Value Village in my life? It wasn't like I chose to have rich parents. I didn't see anything particularly wrong with it either, my parents were good people, who had made their own money, by working hard, being smart, and admittedly, getting lucky a few times. But I had nothing to do with it. God doesn't ask you which couple you think you'd be amendable to being raised by before you shoot out of the womb. Honestly, I didn't give my money much thought. 'Cause you've always had it' people have said to me. Well, that's true. Still and again, it's not really my fault. Anyway, getting back to the first day of school. I wore my regular clothes, like I said, not knowing. And I got pegged for life that day. Rich. Preppie. Snob. Trust Fund. Dirt to some, automatic friend to others. The others like me. I began to realize that day, there weren't that many of us at that school. Even though it was a good school in a good neighborhood, it was mostly middle class kids. They were the majority. The other group that stuck out enough you couldn't hope to miss it, was the Punks. Whole tribe of them. Mostly old school. Mohawks and some leather. Of course, many of them were vegans or whatever these days, so less leather. Chains, combat boots, dog chokers, that kind of thing. But there were subgroups within the Punk segment of our schools population. Bubble gum punks. Looked down on by the old school crowd. The ones who still listened to The Ramones, The Clash, Sex Pistols, The Dead Kennedy's, whatever, and the ones who liked Green Day, Lagwagon, NOFX, maybe even Sum 41, the American stuff, but those appeared to be the true outcasts. Sell outs. Didn't get any respect. But they were just having fun anyway, it wasn't like a LIFE for them. That didn't appear to be the case for others. The hardcore ones. Had their own clothes, music, way of talking, certain sports that were permitted, set of values. They were supposed to be the free spirits, the wild ones, but sometimes, it looked like they were as bound to their own style of conformity as I was to mine. Of course, it's possible in my own misery about the clique I was apparently stuck in, I saw that same thing in others cause it's what I wanted to see. Possible, maybe even likely. Still, though I don't like it-the pack mentality, they aren't bad people, not all of them anyway. In a group of about 14, from a couple of grades, I have 3 good friends. Who I trust, who I like. Stacy, a year below me, always there for you, always wearing pink, even though she isn't girly in any typical way. Kevin, who like me had sort of fallen in with the pack when he transferred into the school the previous year, whose younger brother has leukemia, and who is sort of dating Stacy. Kevin is nice. Just a decent, kind, sometimes on the shy side guy. Easy to talk to, harder to get to talk, unless maybe it's advise. Kevin's kinda big on advice, but he's good at it so it's okay. Finally Rowan who's just Rowan and doesn't care much for explaining himself to anyone. I like him, basically because he hates the pack as much as I do sometimes, but he's stuck further in than I am because he's been friends with many of them since elementary school. Plus he's hilarious. So I stick with them, my group within the group, and I'm okay. Only I keep seeing this guy. The guy. All this year I've been seeing him, noticing him. He dresses like a punk, but stands out like I said, don't know what it is really. He doesn't do anything much with his hair. It's just dyed black, straight, long enough so that it sort of sticks up on his head, some combination of bedhead and a little too much static electricity. Somehow he pulls it off though and on him it comes off looking good. I guess that in a way, an unconventional one that I happened to enjoy quite a lot, he was beautiful. The other main thing I guess, is how he didn't really run with the other punks. He sort of stayed on the far fringes, basically alone. Heard he played in a band, but most of the punks did, and for some reason I chose not to believe it. This guy was different. Don't know why I had decided that meant no band, it just seemed right to me. It's gotten to be gradually that I've started looking out for him, for like spottings. He just interested me. Why was it so easy for him to float around almost by himself, in a school like this? And why couldn't I be like that? The Punk I'm just walking, down the street or whatever, music on, eyes half closed, and I run into this kid. Shit, I think, recognizing him. It's that prep who always looks so damn miserable. Not that "I'm soooo rich" "my car is sooo expensive" self-serving kind misery possessed by some of the other people he's surrounded by. It was like he didn't fit in quite right, and he knew it. That's why I knew him, beyond the faceless others. Knew, too, his friends, since there were those 3 he was often around with. They seemed like a nice bunch, and seemed, at times, almost regular. Like you could just go up to them and say "hi" and it'd be totally fine. Hadn't ever tried it myself though of course. But this guy. I ran him right over. So I decide to forget acting like a punker-than-thou jerk for just a minute, and help him up. When I do I guess I pull a little too hard cause he sort of lands against me and for a second our faces are inches apart. Maybe less, our noses are practically touching. His eyes widen, so do mine probably. I just let got of him, and ask, "Hey, you alright?" He nods in response, too, among other things, surprised to add much more. I find myself smiling. I can't help it, I've grown fond of him, or the idea of him. The disenchanted Preppie. He smiles too, out of surprise. I don't know where we go from here, do we say we recognize each other from school, then act like the semi-sworn enemies we are, or do we try and forget school for a few moments, and just be nice to each other and polite like you would be to any stranger? "Elliot," He says holding out his hand. I grasp it firmly and keep smiling. "Simon." If we're forgetting about school, I have no idea what else we're going to talk about, only we just keep right on standing there, on the bloody sidewalk, staring at each other, people being forced to walk around us, looking annoyed. I don't care, I'll hold this gaze until he breaks it. I want to... I shut that thought out. So what if he's gorgeous, I couldn't have him, even if he wasn't from a different world. He had a girlfriend didn't he? I couldn't remember just then, and it frustrated me. A thought so ridiculous it almost makes me laugh occurs to me, but for some reason I voice it anyway. "I'm going to this show, at this little club, but it's an all agers things, if you're worried about being carded. D'you want to come along?" Of all the responses I might have expected, I don't see the one he use coming. He shrugs, saying, "Sure, why not?" Even though I'm shocked, I grin. Then he looks down at his clothes and frowns. "Don't worry about it," I say. "It's a style for some of us anyway, you know, kind of a joke thing." I wince inwardly when I say this but instead of getting offended he just looks relieved. "Great." So we start walking, and get to the bus stop. We wait for awhile, then get on. I wonder if I'll see anyone I know, going to the show too perhaps, and what I'll say if I do. If they don't recognize him I could lie, I'm already telling myself as I scan the bus, but I don't see anyone anyway. Just as well. I look over at him, and I think he was looking too. Our eyes meet again and I wonder how we got to be on this bus together. Really. I don't mean like, how our bodies physically got here, but what made him agree? Or better, what made me ask in the first place? Why have I been watching this guy for months-wondering the whole time why he looks so familiar, why have I suddenly bumped into him now and why did he just say yeah sure, to a guy he's probably never given a second glance? The Preppie We got off the bus and went to the show he talked about. I don't know what possessed me to say yes in the first place-call it a stupid risk or momentary insanity, but I turned out really liking it. I was so delighted. Sometimes, I hear, you get an idea about someone, maybe someone famous or whatever, and then they turn out to be a jerk, or not like you expected at all, and you end up feeling totally disappointed. This was not the case for me with Simon. I liked him even more than I had before, because now I actually knew him, and he was just like I expected. Strangely nice under that exterior, funny, knowledgeable, sarcastic, but at the same time, shy in away. Careful might be a better word. Seemed like he was on a bit of the same edge about being with me that I was feeling about being with him. As we walk out of the show I'm beginning to get the feeling that that edge is coming from more than just who we are at school. I remember when our faces were right together, the look in his eyes, the way we both drew in a quick surprised breath. I wonder if he's feeling the same thing I am. Even though it would still probably be like impossible, I hope so. I don't want to say goodbye, maybe because I'm thinking this is the only night we'll ever spend together. Also, I'm thinking that it's all different now. I can't watch him like I used to, he'd notice it probably after tonight. So I want to absorb all I can of him right now. "Do ya want to do something else?" Feeling suddenly desperate as we approach the bus stop once more. He turns to me, and half-frowns. "Like what?" I have no ideas and I feel myself sinking. I shrug. "Well, I don't, I guess nothing. I'll see you around or something..." I will see him around, but I probably won't talk to him, he must know this, he won't be talking to me either. "Hey, why don't we just get something to eat? There's gotta be a place open around here somewhere, are you hungry? You were moshing." I laugh. "Yeah, I guess I was. Never thought I'd be able to put that on my resume." He laughs too. "What kind of a job has moshing as a requirement?" "Who knows, but maybe I'll create one." "Good luck with that." I guess we've silently agreed not to split up just yet, so we walk a bit aimlessly around streets until we find a place that's open. From the start it feels funny in there. But I think it's just us. Being there together. People stare at us as we walk in. From a group of people you wouldn't put 2 guys like us together as friends. I wonder if he minds but when I glance his way he actually grins. So I grin back and he puts his hand briefly on my back, sort of moving me forward towards an empty booth. We slide into it. I can't stop grinning, neither can he. He just makes me happy. Like we've known each other for a really long time, once we get going, we know just what to say to each other. I'm loving looking at him from close range. He's got this incredibly face. He's quite fair, and the black hair adds to that, but his lips are almost maroon, and are very full, they form something like a circle when they're just relaxed. I can't really explain it, but it's beautiful. His eyes are dark, his lashes are long, and they make him look very shy, but then when he laughs, his eyes roll back and his lashes flutter. It's an incredibly exciting thing to watch. If I had to describe him in one word I think I would use CAPTIVATING. I want nothing more than to kiss those lips, and I wonder what he'd think of that. The Punk The whole time we've been sitting at the table we're just sort of staring at each other. Not saying much, smiling. I like him. A lot. Can't explain why exactly, we're quite different, but at the same time I have his eerie feeling that we fit. Really well. I'm tempted to reach over across the table, and take his hand from where it's resting beside his half-eaten muffin. From how he's looking at me, I think he's checking me out. But I can't be sure, and I don't have a great track record for being right about these things. Anyway, whatever HE'S doing, I know I'M sure checking him out. Preps basically wear their hair in 2 styles. The first is the more common, shortened, almost Paige-boy mushroom cut. Very 'popular with all the young lads this season'. Then there's the 'watch us rebel' spiked look. Of course they're always just short, tame looking spikes. It's pathetic really. Elliot's hair however, is just normal. It's short and brown and doesn't really make a big thing out of itself. His eyes are the same gentle brown and you might think him rather plain if all you gave him was a quick glance. Having done much more than this, I am able to appreciate what I'm calling his 'concealed beauty', it's hiding away behind his 'avergeness' but I'm finding I could stare into his face for hours, finding it more and more lovely the more I take time to notice things about it. (PS, his nose is VERY cute) By the time we're both done our food I figure I might as well go for it in some form or another, since we'll probably never talk to each other again anyway, if I don't, we'll just drift away, and if I do and it disgusts him, it'll just end the same way. So as we leave I make an ahem sound, and he turns to me. He smiles uncertainly, I raise my eyes brows. I don't think he gets it really, not that I'm being blatant or anything in fact what I'm being is rather daft. "Come over to my house," I say finally. "I'll lend you the cd I have to that band you said you liked." Once I get him there, maybe I'll tell him, maybe I won't, but I want another chance. He seems enthusiastic. "Yeah, sure that'd be great." He's got the way of losing the force on the "t" that I just love. At my house he laughs whenever I say something I hope he'll laugh at. He's cracking me up too, though I'm not so sure he's doing it so consciously. Finally because I just can't stand it anymore, I just walk up to him, and recklessly kiss him on the mouth. He looks incredibly surprised, but pleased. "I was wondering when once of us would have the guts to do that." I laugh, so relieved I feel like I'm going to cry. "Can I tell you something?" I ask, because right now I feel like I could tell him anything. He nods and smiles, but suggests we leave the middle of my living room and go up to my bedroom. I agree. We end up sitting together on my bed. "So shoot," He instructs and gives my knee a little push. "Well, I know you from school. I recognize you I mean, I did from the very start. Actually, I've watched you a lot this year." His eyes widen. "You have?" I nod, uncertain of his reaction. A grin spreads across his face. "Me too! Like, right from the beginning of the new term you had my attention." "Really?!" I exclaim, surprised and delighted. We lung at each other and kiss passionately, our tongues pushing against each others. We pull away gasping for breath. We grin and start going again. I think this goes on for like... half an hour. I love him, I really think I do. The Preppie I linger at his door, kissing him gently, not wanting to leave. "I'll see you again right?" I ask hesitantly. He looks surprised. "Of course! Monday at school." I don't think he really gets it until after he's said the words. But then he does and he sighs. "Oh. Right." He looks so sad, I lean over and kiss him again, hard. "I really like you, and I want to see you again. But both of us know how it would be if we pulled something at school. We can't even be friends with who we are." That might sound dramatic, but you don't know our school. People don't approve of inter-clique friendships, never mind relationships. Never mind gay ones. His sad look hasn't gone away. So I shut the door, it's been sort of half-open, press him against the wall and kiss him deeply and extensively. "Okay?" I say, my hands are still on him, one on his neck, the other on his cheek. He nods, but doesn't smile. "Yeah, but, I mean, how do you want to see me?" I'm confused. "I don't understand." He frowns. "Like, am I your slum boyfriend now? We meet at my place sometimes, but never leave the house, while you date some girl from your clique?" I'm hurt, but I can tell he's not trying to be mean, that he's just honestly confused. "Of course not! We can do stuff all the time, wherever, just not at school, you must understand that." "Yeah, I guess I do. But it really sucks." I laugh, it's just what naturally happens. I kiss him more and once we part he finally smiles. "Okay. So, should we make a plan? Like to meet later I mean? When can I see you next?" I think about this. Tomorrow I have riding lessons. I SWEAR, it's the only 'rich' thing I do. I just like horses, so sue me. Despite this, somehow I don't want to tell him about them. "I can't tomorrow, but Sunday. Definitely Sunday. Would that be okay?" He nods quickly. "Sure." All over again I start kissing him and I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever be able to drag myself out of here. "Get lost," He says finally, grinning. "I'll call tomorrow night okay?" He shrugs, looking happy. "Whatever. I should be around, but if I'm not just leave a message. I live with my mum only, and she knows all anyway, so there's no point trying to hide you." This makes me laugh, cause it makes me picture him whispering to me in a hiss to like hide under his desk or something. "Okay, bye then," He nods, kissing me for the last time, for this night at least. "Catch you later Elli," Few people have ever tried to call me Elli since I was like 12, and even though it's a joke, I think I like it from him. "Bye Simon," I say pronouncing it Samone. He shoves me out the door. The Punk When he came over Sunday, we spent the whole day talking because I think it eventually kicked into both our heads that we don't really know each other so well. Still I think at least part of me knows him better than I've ever known anybody, just from the way we've been together so far. I know why, and I do understand, but it still like breaks my heart to think of tomorrow at school and seeing him all the time, not even allowed to talk to him. If it were up to me I'd say screw everyone else, this is my friend and you can just TRY and make me not talk to him, but I can tell it's a little different for Elliot, and I'm trying to understand. It's true I have a group just like he does, which was something he mentioned to me earlier. But even though I'm with all the other punkers in a way, I'm not really close with anyone. Not even like he is with those 3 friends of his. I've got really no one like that. Just people who I'm friendly with at school and at shows and stuff. No one to do other stuff with. Only now, Elliot's around, and I can just feel it, he's going to be around for at least a while longer, and I'm pretty sure he'll do that with me. Regular stuff. Whatever we want, and it can be whatever, not just stuff the label's pegged on us say we should like to do. I'm trying, you know, to remind myself not to go so fast, to not run off with this idea of this great thing that will be between us, but I swear when I look at him Elliot's thinking the same thing. He has to be. I want him with me all the time. I don't give a shit that I've only known him for like 3 days. Who cares, I know what I feel better than anyone else right? I'm just about to put a record on when the phone rings, I jump a little inside myself. He just left a few hours ago, but I'm really hoping its Elliot. Well, it's for me anyways-mum is calling me to the phone. I grab my mobile off my dresser and turn it on, listening to the person breathing on the other line. "Hello?" "Can you imagine how much I love you?" This sends little shock waves through me, hearing him say something like that all breathy and soft. Though at the same time I wish he had said it serious, cause it's about what I've been dying to say to him. "More than you love your Italian Dockers?" He laughs. "I was serious Simon," He says after awhile. My heart is about to break out it's pounding so hard against my chest. "No you weren't," I manage, but I can't stop it from coming out all squeaky and shrill. I know I'm probably giving myself away, but it's too late. "No really. I was. I must love you, considering I'm so unable to think of anything else but you! I love you Simon, I really do." "I hope you mean that." I say after talking a deep breath. He laughs. "I do! I wanted to tell you in person, but, I couldn't wait till tomorrow." My heart sinks again. "You mean Wednesday," We'd already agreed to meet Wednesday, since it was the earliest we'd both be free again. "No I don't!" He says laughing gleefully. "Simon, if I love you, and I swear I do, then the last thing I could allow myself to do was pretend I don't know you! If you think we can do it, and you've made it sound like you do, then we'll be open in school. We can go as far as you like, I'll leave that part up to you." He's offering so much so suddenly, I'm having to fight to believe it. It really would have helped, having him actually here. "Listen Elliot, if this is some kind of a joke..." "It's not! Simon," He breaths out my name in a way that almost makes me hard. "I can tell you're having a lot of trouble believing me, but would seeing me help? I know it'd help me. Can I call you a cab, will you come over here? Everyone's gone, you could even spend the night-like you could have your own room or whatever." I know I can do nothing but agree, so I tell him to call the cab. ____________ When I get there, after driving through a whole neighborhood I can't believe, I feel like telling the cabby that I think he's got the wrong house, it's so impressive. I mean, okay, all the Preps are rich, but this is like... unreal. Normal people, people like me, who eat hamburgers for lunch and only have one pair of shoes in a year, we don't even KNOW people who have houses like the one I'm standing in front of. Only I can already see its Elliot's cause the car I've seen him drive is parked in the driveway. I ring the bell, honestly wondering if some like big guy in a black suit is going to come to the door and ask me something like "are you on the list?" It's only Elliot who really answers, and he laughs, at what I guess is the stupid, awestruck look on my face. "How many people you have living here with you mate? You guys sublet to about 4 other families?" He takes me by the hand, grinning. "Would you like the tour?" I fake uncertainty. "I dunno, you sure I got that kind of time?" "Man, shut up." He says laughing and shaking his head. "It's just a house, you know, just money. Besides, you've got a nice house." I shrug. "Nice maybe, fuckin Mansion it's not." He kisses me, and somehow, we're on the same level again. I remember what I came here for. To see him, and to believe. Coming over was the right thing to do, cause it's all over his face. It's in how he's acting too, I guess. Letting me get away with what I've been saying, laughing it all off. It's being around him that matters, and then I remember the last part. "Okay, you give me the tour, and we can talk about tomorrow." The Preppie The whole time I'm showing him around, and while we're talking about tomorrow, he's still trying to figure me out. I don't know if he really believes me until we sit down together in the room next to mine with couches and stuff that is in a way, just another part of my own room. "So do you believe me now?" He nods. "Yeah, I did as soon as I got here. It's not like I thought you'd lie to like screw with me or anything, but, it's just hard to imagine, after such a short time." "You did as much as say you loved me too," I point out. He tilts his head. "I know... and I do," He adds quickly. "But it's different coming from another person, you can't feel what's going on in THEIR head." I interlace the fingers of both our hands. "School," I say reminding him. We did talk about it, but we never really got to making a decision about anything. "Right. We'll have enough trouble, just bloody TALKING to each other, and at least for a little awhile, I think that's about all the heat either one of us can take. You cool with that?" I smile. "Yep. It might not be as bad as we think." I say, not sure I even believe it. He looks at me, in that way he has of looking down his nose at me. "Sure Elliot. I bet it'll be a walk in the bloody roses." He's so sarcastic all the time, but it just always makes me laugh. So like always, I crack up. Then I swing myself over, so I'm kneeling over top on him, straddling him sort of, facing him, and I put my hands on his face. He tilts his head up, and we kiss, and hug onto each other really tightly. _____________ "So," I say later. "You going to stay tonight?" He looks a bit uncomfortable. "I don't mean we would do anything," I assure him, because it's not something I'm at all willing to do myself. He smiles quickly. "Oh well I know that. It's just, this house. It's so... big." I'm surprised, and somehow, touched by how young he seems right this minute. "Yeah, and that's fine. I can drive you home-it's too late to send you in a cab." He shakes his head. "No, I want to stay. But, you mentioned being in another room. I think," He pauses a little nervously. "That if it's alright with you, I'd just as soon sleep in your room." He grins, and shows what I think is the slightly reckless streak I've already seen displayed a few times before. "You do have a huge bed." I burst out laughing at this. "Sly dog," I say a laugh and some more. "Okay, we'll share my bed. Do you mind wearing my pajamas?" The Punk The next morning when I wake up in his bed, I just can't get over it. Wasn't it only 4 days ago that I'd never even spoken a word to him?-and now look at us. It's getting late already, but he looks like he's used to about another good half hour of sleep. I wonder if I kept him up too late last night with all our talk. I figure it's gotta take at least 20 minutes to get to school from here, so I decide I had better wake him up. I do so my kissing him on the nose. "Hey," I say when opens his eyes. "Hey yourself." He says, groggy, but smiling. "What time is it?" He asks, propping himself up on his elbows and observing me lazily. "About 8." He laughs. "I'm never up this early!" "Early!" I protest. "I mean, maybe you aren't like AWARE of this, you know, being rich an all, but most of us, well, we like to go to school when it starts, geddit? Like that's BEFORE the bell rings." Laughing, he gets up to give me a little push. "I'm aware of it, alright you loser? It's even a code I follow most of the time. Anyway, you're the one who's supposed to threaten social order and all that stuff, you big punkish rebel you." "Cause I listen to a certain type of music, and dress a certain kind of way, that means I've got to be a delinquent, less than respectable member of society?" I grill him, pretending to be angry. Not buying it, he just chuckles. "I'm so sorry! Forgive me for not recognizing the quiet intellectual beneath that party hardy exterior." "It just so happens I AM an intellectual, thank you very much. Or don't you ever bother to look at the honor roll either, as well as never coming to school on time?" He looks at me, serious. "You're on the honor roll?" "Yeah," I say, feeling a bit strange suddenly, from the look on his face. "Wow, smart and beautiful. It's a good thing I'm rich, what else'av I got?" This time, I give him the push. "Well, you've got looks yourself, if you want to be like that. And besides, I bet you'd be on the honor roll too, if you weren't so lazy." "How do you know I'm lazy?" He asks, curious, but apparently not offended. "You're too smart to just plain not be on it, so you must be lazy." He laughs. "Now I get it! You're really just a con artist aren't you? Admit it!" I laugh with him, and when I do, he stops and looks at me intently. "What?" I ask, still under his gaze. He grins. "Nothing, I just love watching you laugh." "Watching me laugh?" I ask, confused. He nods. "Sure, you should just see yourself. It's so beautiful." I scrunch up my whole face. "Well I can honestly say I've never had that line used on me before." "It's not a line!" He protests, almost like he's really upset. "I mean it, it just gets me, you know?" "Sure, I guess." I say, cause I think he's actually weirdly upset about all this. "It's okay, right?" He smiles. "Oh yeah, it's just, I think it's what first made me love you." "How I laugh?" "Yeah. Cause you're so you when you do it. Free." It's weird, but I know exactly what he means. He's just everything he is all the time. Not the WAY he laughs, but the way he laughs all the time. Finally I say, "I get exactly what you mean." The Preppie Later, after we've gotten up, dressed and are just sitting around in my room, he gets up, looks around a bit, and when he reaches my cd collection he sighs loudly, pityingly. "It's worse than I thought," He says, shaking his head and sighing again. "We've really got to do something about your music collection Si," I play dumb. "What's wrong with my music collection?" For this I get a snort and a double eyebrow raise. He flips through them again, slower, reading off names to me occasionally, doing a pretty good job of convincing me of the true gravity of this situation. When he reaches my Hanson cd he finally throws his hands up in horror. "Augh! That is the last straw." He looks at me with something resembling deep concern. "I think we should like..." He fake shudders. "BURN these, as soon as we possibly can." He closes his eyes to the carnage. "I'll find you some decent stuff to listen too. Start you out slow, something mellow." He appears to be quite serious about all this. Still, I laugh. "Now I see, you're just going to turn me into a little Simon Clone, that's your game, isn't it?" At last he grins, ending the act. "Listen to what ever garbage you like love," I reward this new nickname with a kiss. "Maybe I'LL end up converting YOU." He just laughs. _____________ Eventually, I realize we're already late for school. I'm not sure he's noticed. I grin. "So, you about ready to be richly on time?" Catching on, he grins ruefully. "Guess I better be eh? Not much option now right?" I nod grimly. "Fraid so. Common, no sense extending it anymore." In my car he says, "Holy Mother you're rich." As always, I have to laugh. He looks so serious, so disgruntled, and yet I know he's not. I just smile smugly, my latest defense against his poor-me-the-poor-boy act. I say, "Sure am." And drive off.