Tres

~~~~~

When Madrigal got home from school, she was unusually perky. She happened to be in a good mood. After all, she would be working on the poem with Parker the next day, and not with Kedin. That was always something to celebrate.

~~~~~

A doorbell sounded throughout her house while she was still sleeping. Angrily, she glared at the clock. It was only 7:30. On a Saturday morning. She loved Parker--he was her best friend--but WHY did he show up so early? She slowly shuffled out of her bedroom to the front door. There was no way in hell her parents would be up at this time to answer it for her.

Once she got downstairs and opened the door, she immediately shut her eyes tightly from the unwelcome sunlight that steamed in. When she recovered enough to open them, they quickly went back to the same glare she’d given her clock.

Because it was Kedin.

“WHAT. Are. You. Doing. Here?” she asked irritably.

“I’m here to work on the poem! What else?” he said in a very energetic voice, stepping inside without waiting to be invited.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she growled.

He gave her current state of pajamas and messed-up hair a quick glance. “Yes. It’s 7:30. I’ve already been up for an hour and a half, and I figured we could get a head start on the work today. Because it’s Saturday.”

“I know what day it is, you moron. Why didn’t you call me first?” At this point, her tone was that of a teacher asking their first grade student why they painted the walls pink.

“I live pretty close and I figured you’d be up.”

“At 7:30 on a SATURDAY morning? Are you INSANE?” Madrigal was starting to shake in anger. She was pissed. And very much not a morning person.

“Okay,” Kedin said, giving her a very funny look. “I’ll come back later. Say, 11? When you’ve had all of your beauty sleep?” He spat out the last two words.

“Fine,” she agreed, slamming the door behind him as he walked out. She promptly stomped back up to her room to go back to sleep.

But she couldn’t get her eyes to close.

~~~~

At eleven on the dot, he was back. At least this time she was showered, dressed, and semi-awake. But she was still irritated with him. She SO didn’t do mornings.

They sat working in silence for a long time, both racking their brains for the ‘meaning of life.’ And then miserably failing. Whenever one thought of something, the other immediately discarded it. They’d already gone through ‘to make others happy’ (Madrigal’s), ‘to die’ (Kedin’s), and ‘there is no meaning’ (Madrigal’s).

Now they were just repeating old ideas with different wordings. Neither could think of anything new that the other could handle.

Madrigal sat on the opposite end of the room watching Kedin write something down. He always seemed to be writing.

She looked up at the clock for the first time since he’d been there; it was already 12:30. Her eyes widened in surprise; how had an hour and a half gone by so quickly when they were basically doing nothing?

But it did present a new problem. Parker was coming at one. To work on Kedin and Madrigal’s project. Without Kedin. What the hell was she going to do to get Kedin to leave? He couldn’t find out what she was doing or he’d get all noble and tell the teacher.

“You know, Kedin,” she said, breaking the silence. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere. Maybe we should take a break and work on it tomorrow....”

But that was the moment that her mother chose to enter and offer them both lunch. Which Kedin quickly accepted. The bastard.

About fifteen minutes later, she sat with an empty plate in front of her watching him finish his sandwich.

“Dear GOD, he eats slowly...he MUST LEAVE NOW! Parker ALWAYS shows up early.”

She was getting more and more nervous. It wasn’t as though she was doing anything wrong persay....So why did she want him to not find out so badly?

And then the doorbell rang. She groaned. Before she could intercept Parker and warn him not to say something, he came in the kitchen. Apparently her mother had let him in.

“Hey Madrigal? Are you awake yet? I’m ready to work on that poem...” He trailed off as he saw her sitting in the kitchen. With Kedin. He seemed to be a tad surprised.

“Madrigal, what does he mean by ‘the poem?’ Is it the one that WE are supposed to do TOGETHER for class?” Kedin asked slowly.

Both guys were staring at her; Parker with a look of sympathy, and Kedin with one of anger. All she could do was look back and forth between the two.

“Well?” prompted Kedin.

“Um, maybe...”

Kedin got up and walked out of the room.

“No, see, I just thought he could help with ideas...Kedin, wait!” But the door had already slammed shut. He was gone.

“Dammit,” she swore.

“Sorry about that,” Parker told her sheepishly.

She looked over at him. “Don’t worry about it. Not your fault. The stupidness was pretty much all on my part. Come one, let’s go get started. Might as well have something come out of the crap that was today.”

~~~~~

            “Kedin is officially pissed off at me. Which I suppose is slightly reasonable; We WERE supposed to do the project together and I DID go behind his back to work on it with someone else...but he’s still my partner! I don’t want him to be COMPLETELY mad at me. I think it might be too late though.

            “But in my defense, I think he might have been working on something of his own as well. He was always writing something in his notebook. Which I’d be all for. Except for the fact that WE HAVE NO IDEA yet. So he must have been using one of his to write a poem. I wonder if there’s a way to talk Mr. Smithers into just giving us individual grades on this....

            “Why do I not want that though? Maybe I’m just pissed because I wasted all that time arguing with Kedin...might as well get graded for it....

            “ARGH.”

~~~~~

Madrigal groaned. The damn phone was ringing. And she did not want to get up to answer it.

“Hello?” she said irritably when her teenage girl side won over her lazy ass side.

“Is this Madrigal?” the voice on the other side asked.

“Yes.”

“Hey. This is Kedin.”

“Oh! Hi. About earlier–“

He cut her off quickly. “Look. It’s fine. You’d much rather not work with me. And I’m not so sure I’d like to work with you anymore. So I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll just write the poem. Don’t worry about it. And I promise I won’t blow it off. I don’t do bad grades.”

The line went dead.

Madrigal stared at the phone, willing it to ring again with him calling her back. But it didn’t.

Why was she not happy about this? And what did he mean he didn’t want to work with her anymore?

~~~~~

On to Cuatro
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