"My dad says it all the time."
Desiree continued watching the luminous storm. Dad really was into Southern colloquialisms even if they didn't sound exactly right, but in most cases people gave him points for trying. It was the kinda thing he told her about once before, about having to change your words depending on company. Not necessarily "dumbing yourself down", but just making yourself easier for other people to understand. For the laymen, basically. It sounded silly to her, but he was the one with clients who seemed to always call on him so maybe he was doing something right. Go figure.
For the record, this was one of the ones that didn't sound right, but it was kinda cool if somewhat stupid and unnecessarily romantic so she let it slide. She'd rather hear him say this over saying "woke" like that one time. Shudder.
Minutes fleeted by, and Violet said something about her sister picking her up. Or rather, how she was probably stranded because she didn't plan this far ahead. Sucks to be her.
Unless this had been her plan all along, trying to cop a free ride out of whoever had the unfortunate judgment call to sit next to her. Desiree saw through that trick, but maybe this actually could work out for the both of them. Maybe.
"...How far out do you live?" she asked in her usual flat tone.
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MethodicalSlacker
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"Close enough to be able to walk there," Violet said, "but far enough, uh, to get soaked, I guess, today."
Not a lie. She always had the option of getting a ride from her parents or her sister if she was lazy or tired or struck with symptoms of senioritis, but otherwise she just walked to and from school. For the most part, she preferred walking to every other means of getting around. It was good to be able to stop and smell the roses every now and again.
Violet wasn't quite sure she could handle meeting Desiree's parents this early in their friendship, if that's what this was. She also didn't know if she could handle Desiree meeting her own family. Regardless, she pulled out her phone and texted her sister for some assistance. She found herself doing this more often than she cared to, lately.
Putting her phone away, she sighed and leaned back on the bench, saying the first thing that came to mind.
"...Prom's coming up soon."
First thing, and worst thing.
Not a lie. She always had the option of getting a ride from her parents or her sister if she was lazy or tired or struck with symptoms of senioritis, but otherwise she just walked to and from school. For the most part, she preferred walking to every other means of getting around. It was good to be able to stop and smell the roses every now and again.
Violet wasn't quite sure she could handle meeting Desiree's parents this early in their friendship, if that's what this was. She also didn't know if she could handle Desiree meeting her own family. Regardless, she pulled out her phone and texted her sister for some assistance. She found herself doing this more often than she cared to, lately.
Putting her phone away, she sighed and leaned back on the bench, saying the first thing that came to mind.
"...Prom's coming up soon."
First thing, and worst thing.
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- "Oh."
Desiree folded her arms and crossed her legs, still staring out at the rainfall. So much for that. Maybe it was a good thing she refused anyway, getting exposed to how "eccentric" her dad was might give Violet a heart attack on the spot.
Prom. Heh. How stupid. Stupider than that party advertised on the flyers littered everywhere like it was a parade.
Desiree grumbled and spoke after some silence, "...Not going. Just gonna stay home and play games. Not like anyone would ask me to go."
Why bother sugarcoating it?
Desiree folded her arms and crossed her legs, still staring out at the rainfall. So much for that. Maybe it was a good thing she refused anyway, getting exposed to how "eccentric" her dad was might give Violet a heart attack on the spot.
Prom. Heh. How stupid. Stupider than that party advertised on the flyers littered everywhere like it was a parade.
Desiree grumbled and spoke after some silence, "...Not going. Just gonna stay home and play games. Not like anyone would ask me to go."
Why bother sugarcoating it?
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MethodicalSlacker
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"Ah."
"Yeah me too I'm probably just going to stay inside and browse 4Chan or something."
Violet looked at her phone, holding it away from Desiree so that she could not see, and turned on the screen, staring at it for a few moments before gasping in mock surprise.
"Oh heavens! My sister has been waiting outside for the last few minutes and I didn't get her messages because the reception in here is bad!"
She gathered her things up haphazardly and made to leave, her words trailing off as her feet carried her down the hall and out of sight.
"Thanks for sitting with me today. See you around!"
Carol Schmidt was sipping a cup of tea and reading the newspaper when her daughter came home sopping wet and stomped up to her bedroom and slammed the door. She could barely gasp before Violet had locked it. Mud tracks went up the carpeting on the stairs and into the bedroom; Violet hadn't removed her shoes.
"Violet!" she called up the stairs. However, she stopped herself before she said anything else. Something about the way that she walked in told Carol that maybe it was best not to interfere. She had seen that look before. It had been on her own face, in the mirror, decades ago, and on Dana's just a few years prior.
She sighed, and went to the kitchen.
When Violet finally left her room, she found a slice of Pumpkin Pie on a nice white plate on a napkin on the floor.
Her favorite.
[Violet Schmidt continued elsewhere.]
"Yeah me too I'm probably just going to stay inside and browse 4Chan or something."
Violet looked at her phone, holding it away from Desiree so that she could not see, and turned on the screen, staring at it for a few moments before gasping in mock surprise.
"Oh heavens! My sister has been waiting outside for the last few minutes and I didn't get her messages because the reception in here is bad!"
She gathered her things up haphazardly and made to leave, her words trailing off as her feet carried her down the hall and out of sight.
"Thanks for sitting with me today. See you around!"
Carol Schmidt was sipping a cup of tea and reading the newspaper when her daughter came home sopping wet and stomped up to her bedroom and slammed the door. She could barely gasp before Violet had locked it. Mud tracks went up the carpeting on the stairs and into the bedroom; Violet hadn't removed her shoes.
"Violet!" she called up the stairs. However, she stopped herself before she said anything else. Something about the way that she walked in told Carol that maybe it was best not to interfere. She had seen that look before. It had been on her own face, in the mirror, decades ago, and on Dana's just a few years prior.
She sighed, and went to the kitchen.
When Violet finally left her room, she found a slice of Pumpkin Pie on a nice white plate on a napkin on the floor.
Her favorite.
[Violet Schmidt continued elsewhere.]
Hmm?
Desiree whipped around just in time to catch Violet's hasty retreat. "Yeah, see you." She stared until Violet disappeared, along with her footsteps that the pelting rain drowned out.
Was it something she said?
At least she got the bench to herself now. After all, it was what she wanted.
...
So why didn't it feel like a victory?
...
...
The rain was unrelenting.
Dad arrived and pulled up to the curb by the front entrance. Desiree shielded her face with her hand as best she could as she sprinted to the passenger side of the Prius. She threw open the door, slammed the bag down on the floorboard, and scooched into the maybe-a-little-clausterphobic compact car.
"There she is!" Dad said, barely giving Desiree time to prepare before his hand roughed up her already drenched hair.
She sheepishly grinned as she flinched and gently pushed his hand away. "S-stop," her demand intercepted with a playful chuckle as her hands worked to undue the damage the rain and her dad both caused.
"Seat belt."
Desiree nodded and bucked up. And then they were off.
"So, how was your day?" Dad said. "Learn anything new?"
Desiree shrugged, staring out the window at nothing in particular. "Not really."
"Nothing?"
She shook her head.
"That's fine; I didn't either." He chuckled.
She chuckled back.
And then she caught something in the corner of her eye—a phantom in the rain walking down the road. She turned her head as their car passed, but it was gone before she could get a good look. Sucks to be them, but hopefully they'd get to wherever they were going to soon.
It did give her an idea, though. She got out her phone and opened the Facebook app. She tapped the search bar: "Violet Schmidt". She probably had one, right?
The first result. There she was; it had to be.
Desiree clicked the profile and tapped open a new conversation. She got to writing.
Dad broke the soft silence. "The devil's really kissing his wife today, isn't he?"
"Yeah."
Her finger hovered over the "Send" key.
((Desiree Beck continued in We're Milling Through The Grinder, Grinding Through The Mill))
Desiree whipped around just in time to catch Violet's hasty retreat. "Yeah, see you." She stared until Violet disappeared, along with her footsteps that the pelting rain drowned out.
Was it something she said?
At least she got the bench to herself now. After all, it was what she wanted.
...
So why didn't it feel like a victory?
...
...
The rain was unrelenting.
Dad arrived and pulled up to the curb by the front entrance. Desiree shielded her face with her hand as best she could as she sprinted to the passenger side of the Prius. She threw open the door, slammed the bag down on the floorboard, and scooched into the maybe-a-little-clausterphobic compact car.
"There she is!" Dad said, barely giving Desiree time to prepare before his hand roughed up her already drenched hair.
She sheepishly grinned as she flinched and gently pushed his hand away. "S-stop," her demand intercepted with a playful chuckle as her hands worked to undue the damage the rain and her dad both caused.
"Seat belt."
Desiree nodded and bucked up. And then they were off.
"So, how was your day?" Dad said. "Learn anything new?"
Desiree shrugged, staring out the window at nothing in particular. "Not really."
"Nothing?"
She shook her head.
"That's fine; I didn't either." He chuckled.
She chuckled back.
And then she caught something in the corner of her eye—a phantom in the rain walking down the road. She turned her head as their car passed, but it was gone before she could get a good look. Sucks to be them, but hopefully they'd get to wherever they were going to soon.
It did give her an idea, though. She got out her phone and opened the Facebook app. She tapped the search bar: "Violet Schmidt". She probably had one, right?
The first result. There she was; it had to be.
Desiree clicked the profile and tapped open a new conversation. She got to writing.
Dad broke the soft silence. "The devil's really kissing his wife today, isn't he?"
"Yeah."
Her finger hovered over the "Send" key.
((Desiree Beck continued in We're Milling Through The Grinder, Grinding Through The Mill))