Coloring Outside the Lines

Chapter Nineteen

"Jordan, you need to get a life," George tells me.

He plops down next to me on the couch and watches as King Boo escapes getting hit by three green shells. Take that, Bowser.

Life? What even is life? With the way people talk about it, I assume its jumping off cliffs into a field of sharp rocks for the fun of it. Because that's awesome. Mmmm, look at my spleens frying on that pointy rock. Is that all my blood? Cool, at least I lived a little.

And, I cross the finish line. First again.

Shocker.

I need some actual competition here.

And George presses the power button on the Wii. I scowl at him and cross my arms.

"Really? Was that necessary?" I demand.

"You need to get your butt off of that couch and go do something," George tells me.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Why would I do that? I am perfectly happy sitting here playing Mario Kart all day long."

George rubs his face tiredly. "Exactly. You need to get active. You're going to end up fat and single."

I throw my remote at him, and it hits him in the stomach. He jumps backwards in surprise. Then he frowns.

"Ow," he whines.

"Oh, shut up you goat milker," I stand up and stretch my arms out.

How long have I been sitting there? Hm, maybe an hour? Two? Three at most.

Hey, what else is there to do? We can't go outside, unless we want to be blown away by a blizzard. We can't really do any fun games. I don't have any fun hobbies. I've got boring interests. What can I say?

"Where are Ray and Jacob?" I ask.

"Downstairs," George shrugs.

"Doing what?" You would assume I wanted to know what they were doing also. Gosh, stupid boys. Always needing clarification.

"Playing Uno," he sighs.

"With two people?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"I was playing, but I threw my cards down, got up and left. I hate card games," George says.

You learn something new every day.

For George, that's a real step. He used to say he hated nothing. I asked about veggies, his reply was: no, they make me live longer. I asked about wasps. His answer was: no, as long as you don't go near them, they leave you alone. I even asked about serial killers. And: they're just misunderstood.

"I was hoping you were doing something exciting," George sighs. "Should've known better."

I shove him as I walk by and he chuckles, following me. I hear his footsteps behind me all the way to my room. I turn around in my doorway and he stops.

"What are you doing?"

"Following you," he says.

"Why do you assume I'll let you in?" I ask.

"I don't assume," he says simply before stepping past me into my room.

"Get out," I demand. "Or I will have to call the police for trespassing."

He looks back at me amused, before sitting in my desk chair. "Uh huh."

If people actually listened and obeyed, America would be a highly successful place. Come on, peeps.