Night Prowler Part One Read online

  Oops. I guess that made me sound a little gay. I’m not. I like girls; just not the preppy bitches that always like me. They’re always blonde. I hate blonde girls. They always make me think of mindless sluts like Zac’s sister. If I was making out with a girl and a vision of Lilith popped into my head, I’d probably puke.

  Anyways, Zac and I were arguing in Home Ec. You see, there’s this new girl in the class that he really likes, but he won’t

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  Teenagers

  admit it. Zac has good taste. She’s the kind of girl I want to date, at first glance, that is.

  Her name is Sam. She’s got really dark hair that she curls a lot. Her eyes are blue like Zac’s, but they’re a darker shade. I love girls with dark hair. And blue eyes? What a rare and beautiful combination.

  Another thing I like about her is that she doesn’t wear stupid preppy shit. She hardly puts on any makeup. She always wears this green and gray striped shirt on Mondays. Zac likes Mondays.

  And Zac? Well, he never talks to girls because they usually think he’s ugly. But he can’t keep himself away from this new chick. He’s always thinking up ways to speak to her. I’m happy for him; he needs something that will let him escape from his life. An outlet. He needs her.

  “I don’t like her,” Zac said affirmatively.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “You were thinking about it.”

  “Okay, I was. I think you should ask her out.”

  “No way! She’s just a freshman.”

  “So? Tell you what. Austin and I will skip sometime next week. You can ask her out that day. She won’t be intimidated by us, and she’ll talk to you. Ask her to the movies or something.”

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  “So? Who cares? She’s just a freshman.”

  I went home right after class. Home Ec was sixth period.

  As soon as I set foot in my house, Macy called me.

  “Mitchie!” she shouted from the other end.

  “Hi Macy.”

  “What’s up? How are you? Still sexy? Anyway, Austin said there’s a party at Evan’s tonight! You want to go? Maybe we can get a little…you know,” she switched to her “sexy” voice,

  ” drunk and excited.”

  20

  Samantha Steele

  “Macy, you know Evan and I don’t like each other.” I REALLY didn’t want to get “drunk and excited” with Macy.

  Austin likes her anyway. He probably asked her to the party.

  “Oh who cares? Evan won’t even see us. Or, we could just skip the party and get drunk at my place… my parents are out of town…”

  “I have to go to work, Macy. Bye.” I hung up before she could protest.

  Macy is one of the girls I don’t like but that follow me anyway. She makes advances all the time and I’m too nice to tell her to fuck off. Hell, she’d probably take that as an invitation to rip my pants off in the middle of the hallway.

  She’s not ugly. But she’s blonde. And she reminds me far too much of Lilith. Macy’s really upfront. The first time we met, she said I was really hot. At first I thought that meant she had courage and good self-esteem, but within the next week, she was already calling me and asking if we could hang out at her place when her parents weren’t home.

  Honestly, when a girl says something like that, it’s a real turnoff. If a guy says it, he’s a jerk. If a girl says it, she’s a slut.

  I’m afraid I’d catch something.

  Besides that, I’m a virgin. I’m not against it or anything; I just haven’t found a girl I can really love yet. If I’m going to sleep with a girl, I want to have a relationship with her, too. And most of the girls I know are mindless sluts like Macy and Lilith.

  Evan likes girls like that. That’s pretty much the only reason I don’t like him. He uses girls like pencils. When they get dull and don’t perform as well, he throws them out. He and Zac are friends because Evan makes Zac feel like a stud. Austin is only his friend because Macy is always hanging around him, that is, when she’s not hanging around me.

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  Teenagers

  Austin Trowser

  “Mr. Trowser? Perhaps you can tell us something interesting about the smallest planet in our solar system?”

  Mitch nudged me hard in the ribs. I jolted awake.

  “What?” I mumbled.

  “The smallest planet? Perhaps you could tell us something interesting about it? Or was your dream too exciting?

  Perhaps you’d like to tell us about that instead?”

  Mitch stifled a laugh.

  “Uh… it’s the only planet named after a cartoon character?” I ignored the dream question.

  “Mr. Trowser, perhaps if you came to class once in a while, you would know that Pluto hasn’t been a planet for quite some time,” Mr. Bleakman said in his monotonous voice.

  “Sorry.”

  When we left, Mitch burst out laughing. His super tanned cheeks flushed bright red and he started wheezing.

  “What was so funny? I just fell asleep.” Mitch was usually extremely calm. Seeing him crack up like this was actually kind of scary.

  “How was that dream of yours?” he managed between fits of laughter. He bit his lip to try and stop himself from having an asthma attack.

  “I wasn’t dreaming,” I lied.

  “You were moaning about Macy the whole time!”

  “WHAT?!” I shouted, embarrassed beyond all reason. We walked outside to Mitch’s car. Zac was asking out some freshman today, so we had promised to skip class.

  “Yeah! You kept saying, ‘Macy, Macy, oh MACY!’”

  Mitch imitated what I supposedly sounded like. He rubbed his chest and batted his eyelashes. “Touch me, touch me!”

  “I didn’t say that!” I said, punching his shoulder.

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  Samantha Steele

  “Okay, maybe you didn’t, but you did mutter her name a few times. I don’t think Mr. Bleakman heard you, though.”

  Mitch and I drove down to Subway and had lunch with a few junior girls who were practically drooling on Mitch’s sandwich. We bought Zac a lunch too so he wouldn’t have to leave campus and battle with traffic. About halfway through our lunch period, we drove back to school and met up with him.

  “So did you ask her?” Mitch demanded, handing Zac his sandwich.

  “No,” Zac replied shyly, looking at his feet. “But we talked.”

  “You’re such a wimp,” I said.

  “You’re one to talk! You never shut up about Macy, but you don’t ask her out either, do you?”

  “Macy likes Mitch,” I said sadly.

  “You can have Macy all to yourself. Trust me; I don’t want her,” Mitch stated with an air of disgust, taking a step back.

  “No offense, but she’s so not my type.”

  “Thanks, Mitch.”

  “Anytime, bro,” Mitch said, patting my shoulder. “And that’s my cue to leave. Later guys.” Mitch walked away as Evan approached. They didn’t like each other very much.

  “Zac. Dude. There’s this senior who I met last night. She has a hot older sister who’s in college. You up for a double date?”

  Evan asked. Evan has this evil looking face… he always glares at everyone, even when he’s friends with them.

  “No, that’s okay,” Zac said, not making eye contact.

  “Dude, Zac,” Evan said, forcing Zac look at him. “Drop the freshman. She’s worthless. Freshman never put out.”

  “Dating isn’t all about sex, Evan!” Zac said angrily. He walked away gripping his sandwich with white fingers.

  “Dude, what is his problem?” Evan asked me. I shrugged.

  “Anyway, you up for the date?”

  “I’d really like to go to your party with Macy,” I said.

  “Ah, that’s right. You ask her out yet?”

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  Teenagers

  “I asked her to the party. Then she turned around and asked Mitch out.”

  Mac
y is this girl I know. In fact, she’s the most amazing girl in the world. She has long blonde hair and brown eyes. She’s really pale, and when she gets excited her cheeks turn this fiery red color that she thinks is embarrassing. I think it’s really cute.

  Macy’s really thin and likes to wear heels because she’s short. She usually wears pink on Mondays, blue on Tuesdays, orange on Wednesdays, purple on Thursdays, and rainbow colors on Fridays.

  She likes music a lot, and she giggles all the time. I love her laugh. Macy’s so beautiful; she doesn’t have a single fault.

  Her nose is tiny and round and her lips are this pale pink… I always want to kiss them.

  I really like Macy. She really likes Mitch.

  I’m really jealous.

  I’m really jealous because Mitch is so perfect. All the girls like his curly hair, his smell, his everything! He’s flawless.

  Me? I’m pale, unlike Mitch, who’s got naturally tan skin. I have acne. Mitch has perfect skin. My name sucks. Girls think his is sexy. I wear stupid clothes; I’m a nerd. Mitch always wears cool clothes and he has this calm personality girls think is sexy. I’m freakishly tall; Mitch is the perfect height.

  Mitch is one of my best friends, but I am insanely jealous of him.

  “Well you know she’s going. You know she’ll get drunk.

  Just tell her you’re Mitch. She’ll do anything you want. Anyway, I missed some stupid Chem test I have to make up. Later.”

  “Later, Evan.”

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  Samantha Steele

  Samantha Steele

  Today is Thursday. The dance is tomorrow. I still haven’t asked him.

  I promise my friends I’ll talk to him. The period slips by, and before I know it, there are only four minutes left.

  Today is also a spirit day: dress like your date.

  Attempting to fulfill what I promised, I gather my courage and stare at him until he notices. Our eyes catch for a few seconds, and I say:

  “Your date must be really ugly.”

  “What?” he grunts, clearly confused.

  “Your date must be really ugly,” I repeat. He still doesn’t get it. Feeling stupid, I mutter “Never mind,” laugh, and shake my head. He looks at his friend, whom I call Skipper because he rarely comes to class, who explains what I mean.

  “It’s dress like your date day, and you’re not wearing girls’ clothes,” Skipper says.

  “Oh! I get it! That’s funny. I like it,” Zack says, laughing and pointing at me. I smile and laugh lightly. “No. I don’t go to dances.”

  “Why not?” I ask, afraid that he’s rejecting me before I even ask him out.

  “’Cause I’m lame,” he says shyly, looking at his hands. “I haven’t been to a dance since 8th grade.”

  I chicken out, smile and look away. When I leave for lunch, I go and find my best friend, who hits me in the stomach for being too shy.

  During fifth period, my friend Taylor helps me devise a note to put in his chair, and makes me swear on my puppy’s life that I will put it there tomorrow.

  Friday.

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  Teenagers

  I wake up, my stomach in knots and my brain scrambled.

  I pick out my favorite long-sleeved black shirt and wear it under my T-shirt that says, “Save a Tree. Eat Animals.”

  We are on an assembly schedule today, so each period except first is ten minutes shorter. First and second period are just as painful as usual.

  My best friend and I book it to my computers class right after English. In her hand is the note I wrote in Spanish yesterday; it says,

  Hey. I know this is super last minute, I hope you’re not working, but, for once in your high school life, don’t be lame. Just open the gum. -Sam

  There’s a piece of gum with it, and, under the wrapper, there’s a piece of gold paper that says, “THE GOLDEN TICKET.

  Hey cutie. Want to go to Sadie Hawkins with me?”

  I place it in his chair and am dragged out of the room by my best friend, who tells me she’s going to punch me in the face and tell Zack I want him to give me ten beautiful babies if I don’t leave it there.

  My friends are so loving.

  As nervous as I am, I leave the note. I watch Zack come in out of the corner of my eye and take the note out of his chair. I didn’t know exactly how he spelled his name, so I just put a big Z

  on it.

  Zack sits down and sets the note in front of him. He plays with the corners with his fingers while he talks to Mitchell and Skipper. My heart starts that painful beating again and I try my hardest not to look at him.

  Eventually he opens the note and reads it without reaction. When he opens the gum, I have a strong urge to disappear.

  Luckily for me, Mitchell, Skipper, and Zack spend the next few minutes trying to figure out who “Sam” is. I do my best not to smile.

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  Samantha Steele

  Mrs. Bowan gives us our assignments. After I finish typing mine, I put my chin in my palm and check it for errors.

  Zack normally sits like a stone in his chair, but I notice him fidgeting a lot out of the corner of my eye. It occurs to me that he may be copying me, so I glance at him.

  He’s watching me with a smile on his face, mimicking my every move.

  “Stop copying me!” I say with a grin.

  “What’s your number?” he mouths, putting his hand to his ear like a phone. Thinking I may have misunderstood him, I just laugh and glance away. He grabs his pencil and pretends to write on the table, raising his eyebrows and bobbing his head.

  “Do you want me to write it down?” I ask, trying to contain my excitement. He nods excitedly. So I take out my notebook, tear out a page, and write my cell number on it. I print out my assignment and drop my number onto his keyboard as I walk past. When I come back to my seat, I see him fold up the paper and zip it up in his pocket.

  And then I finally let myself breathe, the whole world suddenly coming into focus. I’ve just completed the hardest project of my life! Phew. What a weight off my shoulders.

  For the rest of the period, he turned away from me and wouldn’t speak to me or even look at me.

  To be honest, I didn’t mind.

  I left class both ecstatic and confused. He had asked for my number, but never told me if he’d go with me to the dance.

  I suffered anxiously through the rest of the day. He never texted or called me. I was beginning to think that I accidentally gave him the wrong number!

  I came home and made a phony call to my mom, acting all sad and depressed. I knew she’d feel sorry for me but then be excited when I told her the truth later. About five minutes after I sat down at my computer to work on a report, my phone vibrated.

  Ecstatic, I checked my messages. There was one from a new number.

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  Teenagers

  He finally texted me! I found out he spells his name

  “Zac” not “Zack” or “Zach.” Good to know. I like it.

  We started talking, and for a long time, he didn’t tell me whether or not he’d go with me to the dance. We talked about why I refused to look at him all period, and I told him he makes me nervous. Zac thought that was just plain ridiculous.

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  Samantha Steele

  Samantha Steele

  Zac and I talked for about two hours until I finally decided to ask him to the dance… again. I said, “Well… do you want to go with me? I understand if you don’t; they can be pretty lame. But we can always ditch if it is.”

  I waited a long time for his reply. He just said, “I can’t.

  Sorry.”

  “I figured that much,” I texted back.

  “Ha ha…oh. Stop it,” he said.

  “Stop what?” I asked.

  “Ha ha oh nothing.”

  “You’re confusing me,” I replied. I had no clue what he was talking about.

  “Nothing. Everything I say is just me messing around.”

  “Clarify
your thoughts please! I’m swimming in contradicting answers here!” He never replied to that text. After about two hours, as the clock approached seven, I gave up on him. Both my ego and self-esteem had been deflated, like a birthday balloon turned into a flat piece of latex; I told all my friends I wasn’t going to the dance. I sat on the floor with a depressed look and just stroked my dogs. They would never say no to me.

  But I really liked Zac, so I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. I convinced myself that he was working and simply couldn’t get time off on such short notice, and since he was a waiter at O’Brady’s (well, he said he worked there, so I pictured him as a waiter) he wouldn’t have time to text me back.

  But I still let a few tears run down my cheeks. I wasn’t really sad about him rejecting me; he must like me a little or he wouldn’t have asked for my number in the first place. I was mostly sad that I wouldn’t get to go to the dance with a really hot junior on my arm. Zac was definitely a really hot junior.

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  Teenagers

  I was curled up under my sheets with the lights out as three or four tears slid down my cheeks. I smelled my wet hair, and the massage-oil scent of my shampoo calmed me enough to put me to sleep fairly quickly. I didn’t have any dreams, probably because right before I fell asleep I said aloud, “I hate you Zac.

  Stay out of my brain.”

  I didn’t really hate him though. It just sort of fell out.

  I woke up sharply at 12:30 in the morning. My phone made a dinging noise, so I leaped up and snatched it off my footboard.

  “Just don’t take me seriously… well sometimes,” Zac said.

  “What took you so long?”

  “Work. Sorry.”

  “Work is good.”

  And I was happy again. He had been working, and he cared enough to continue our conversation. He asked me if I went to the dance anyway, and I said no, but Cami was mad at me because I left her on a date with a weirdo. I told him I hated spoiled rich kids, and he said, “Never know. I could be super rich.”

  “But you have a job,” I said. “And a car. Bonus points!