Marney in the Middle

Chapter 11: The Prank

A/N: Photo is of Jessica (aka Frizz-head).
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I slump into my seat and take a sip of my caramel Frappuccino. My project, a three-part painted pendant depicting the three most important moments surrounding the Cherokee Trail of Tears, is situated against the wall below the white. The mixture of colors ooze together as my eyes lose focus for a moment.

Holy wow, I'm exhausted. Toria pounced on me the second I walked through our bedroom door. Question after question without time for me to actually answer.

'How did it go?'

'Fine, I—'

'What happened?'

'We mostly just talked, though—'

'Did you get a good night kiss?'

'No, he didn't—'

'What the hell are you wearing?'

'Oh, it's Malcolm's. He—'

'When are you seeing him again?'

'Not sure. We—'

'Do you like him?'

I bit my tongue. Toria got the hint and sat down on the edge of her bed, giving me a chance to complete an entire sentence. Really more bullet points than anything. And I skipped the part where I spas-cleaned half their house. When we circled back to her final question, I shrugged.

'I'm not sure.'

And I'm still not. The three hours I spent painting the three-part pendant for Mr. Herkabe's surprise assignment, I mulled it over. It being everything. Our conversation, how my heart feels when I think about him (a lot of semi-flips), Malcolm's reaction to my possibly dating Reese and my reaction to that – all of it. I settled into bed sure of one thing: nothing.

So today I plan to be honest with Malcolm. Or at least mostly honest. I can't very well tell him about assignment one or Makeover Marney. He wouldn't understand. But I could tell him again that I'm sorry for omitting my feelings for Reese while neglecting to tell him that I still didn't know what my feelings were. I'll plead for him to be my friend. I need him to be ok with this whole thing. With me.

Though I'm not sure why.

Sinking against the seat's hard plastic back, I sigh. Time wasted on the stupid project had only allowed me three hours of sleep. Not to mention I woke up late. Luckily Toria picked out my outfit the night before: tan skinny jeans, a lavender V-neck t-shirt, a black and white vertical-striped cardigan and those uncomfortable silver flats. She made me wear a faux pearl necklace that she knotted in the middle and a silver bangle, too. Said I'd spent a week not wearing jewelry and it was time.

Whatever.

At least she hadn't fussed too much when she saw my black Dickies messenger bag. I convinced her the no backpack rule meant slouching as a result of the awkward weight distribution and struggling to not limp.

"It's not that big a deal," a familiar nasally voice says.

Opening my eyes and straightening up, I smile at Malcolm as he enters the classroom. Jessica follows close behind.

"Good morning," I say as cheerily as possible.

"Hey, wow, did you get any sleep last night?"

A little bitchy, but I ignore it and nod at her. "A bit; spent most of it working on today's project."

"Right," she says with a nod, dragging out the vowel.

"Did you – both of you – finish yours?"