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Samantha chewed on the paper bag that held her purchase from twenty minutes' prior. She'd traveled to the corner store and procured a Hershey's bar and a quarter-ounce of potato chips, all of which fit in the smallest bag available, one for three ounces. She'd stopped at Charlie's house on the way back, not the way forward, despite the momentous revelation she had for him. She'd planned to keep the purchase surreptitious, but when the words fell out of her mouth, the bag gave her sufficient cover.
"Are you sure?" Charlie asked, his face wan. He'd fallen back from a stance onto the lip of the tub. She hadn't planned on springing such information on him in such a vulnerable place as the bathroom, but here they were, and here she was spilling.
"Yeah," she said. "I took a test; it was positive."
Charlie, with his closely cropped strawberry-blond hair, looked as though he were going to faint. Samantha had never seen a male come close to such a resemblance. True, he already seemed close to such a state, with his mixed heritage and all, but still it was quite a sight. She chewed more on the bag to hide her urge to grin.
"What--what are you going to do?" he asked.
"I plan to keep it," she said, again masticating.
Charlie truly looked about to swoon. He stared at the floor and attempted to reclaim his balance, although he was firmly planted on the edge of his bathtub. Brows knitted, he kept his mouth pressed like two bookends. Samantha retained her air of silence while admiring her handiwork. Charlie stuttered, mentioning something about speaking to her again tomorrow at school. He stumbled out, apparently leaving her to find her her exit from his home.
Samantha indeed found the door, traipsed through and began her walk home, visibly smiling. He'd bought her story in utter entirety. The hilarity lay in the fact that Samantha was notoriously a bad liar. A tic would give her away, or some rhetorical anomaly: an inadvertent pause, a downward look, a revelatory stress in her choice of words. This time she had a prop! An unintentional prop, to be sure--she'd stopped at the store as a matter of circumstance, not in alignment with her proposed deceit--but useful nonetheless.
She suppressed the impulse to skip home. Instead, she maintained her steady, dolorous pace.
( Read more... )
"Are you sure?" Charlie asked, his face wan. He'd fallen back from a stance onto the lip of the tub. She hadn't planned on springing such information on him in such a vulnerable place as the bathroom, but here they were, and here she was spilling.
"Yeah," she said. "I took a test; it was positive."
Charlie, with his closely cropped strawberry-blond hair, looked as though he were going to faint. Samantha had never seen a male come close to such a resemblance. True, he already seemed close to such a state, with his mixed heritage and all, but still it was quite a sight. She chewed more on the bag to hide her urge to grin.
"What--what are you going to do?" he asked.
"I plan to keep it," she said, again masticating.
Charlie truly looked about to swoon. He stared at the floor and attempted to reclaim his balance, although he was firmly planted on the edge of his bathtub. Brows knitted, he kept his mouth pressed like two bookends. Samantha retained her air of silence while admiring her handiwork. Charlie stuttered, mentioning something about speaking to her again tomorrow at school. He stumbled out, apparently leaving her to find her her exit from his home.
Samantha indeed found the door, traipsed through and began her walk home, visibly smiling. He'd bought her story in utter entirety. The hilarity lay in the fact that Samantha was notoriously a bad liar. A tic would give her away, or some rhetorical anomaly: an inadvertent pause, a downward look, a revelatory stress in her choice of words. This time she had a prop! An unintentional prop, to be sure--she'd stopped at the store as a matter of circumstance, not in alignment with her proposed deceit--but useful nonetheless.
She suppressed the impulse to skip home. Instead, she maintained her steady, dolorous pace.
( Read more... )