Blind to Beauty

Chapter Eleven

“Sometimes people are beautiful.

Not in looks.

Not in what they say.

Just in what they are.”  ― Markus Zusak, I am the Messenger

    We arrived to the music shop, a few minutes later. Seamoore hadn’t been very chatty when Lacey had tried striking up a conversation with him. It wasn’t all that surprising though; he wasn’t chatty to begin with.

    “So you like music?” Lacey asked, as we walked into the store.

    “No, I just like coming here to stare hatefully at the records,” he retorted.

     “Oh, see I almost fell for that,” Lacey said, same sarcastic tone in her voice that he had used, “except you can’t stare, now can you?”

    Seamoore ignored her, but I noticed him clench and unclench his hands first. That was a low blow, and Lacey knew it. She didn’t seem to regret what she had said to him. She wasn’t one to regret things she’s said. It’s not that she’s rude, but she takes crap from no one, and Seamoore would not change her.

    “That was a bit rude,” I whispered in her ear.

    “He’s a bit rude,” she shot back, “can he even have a human conversation with anyone?”

     “He isn’t that bad when you get to know him,” I defended.

     “Who would want to stick around long enough to get to know him…?” She stalked off farther into the store.

    I sighed and followed her. She and Seamoore were both so moody.  They had a lot more in common than moodiness. They were both sarcastic, took shit from no one, no friends, and I was the only one who could put up with them. They were practically a match made in heaven… except they weren’t a match.

     “Hello everyone!” I hear Willy call from the back of the store.

     “Hey,” I heard Seamoore’s grumble.

    “Oh look it’s Seasalt!” Casper’s deep voice echoed through the store.

    “Oh look… wait I can’t,” Seamoore retorted.

     “You’re so peppy today. Calm your tits, I might have to sign you up for cheerleading,” Casper teased.

     “That was such a great comeback,” Seamoore snapped.

    I stopped listening to their bickering and walked over to where Lacey was flipping through a box of CD’s. She seemed somewhat interested in them, but more so just trying to keep herself busy. She was still upset about what happened last night, and who could blame her? It was a horrible thing. No one deserves that.

     “Hey Celeste,” Willy called to me, “you up to playing our fun game again?”

     “Sure, but won’t the teams be uneven?” I asked, walking over to him and leaning over the counter.

     “I’m going to sit out this time,” he shrugged, “you, your friend, Seamoore and Casper can all play together.”

    “Sounds good,” I replied, “hey Lace, come here.”

     Lacey walked over and gave a curt smile to Willy and raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement to Casper.

     “This is Lacey, my friend,” I introduced, “Lace, this is Casper and Willy. Willy owns the music store and Casper works here.”