CHAPTER 12: Why A Knight in Shining Armor Sucks

Emma's one of those girls who can be invisible in a hallway full of students. That might have been the reason why it took me two days to bump into her again. And when I did, it was after school in the parking lot.

I caught a glimpse of her frizzy, platinum blonde hair as she dawdled across the field with her head ducked down. I couldn't see her full face but the spiked choker she was wearing was a telltale sign.

Besides, it wasn't hard to spot her. Her all-black outfit was a hard contrast to the snow-covered ground. Black certainly is  a color for all seasons.

I heaved my bag inside my pickup and shut the door. I was going home, but Emma showed up just in the nick of time. She was making her way to the gates when she passed by a group of socialites. I recognized most of them. They lived up by Louie's subdivision.

"Hide your trash, a raccoon's on the loose." The girl in the yellow turtleneck sweatshirt was the first one to jeer. Quinn, I think was her name. I wasn't sure. But I was familiar with her face. It wasn't the only part of her I was familiar with.

"That's a raccoon? I thought it is the trash," sniggered one of her friends.

Emma rolled her eyes and sighed in annoyance. "If I weren't on parole right now, you bitches would be in the dumpster, learning the real meaning of the word trash."

"What was that?" Quinn-or-not-Quinn asked in a sickly sweet voice. "I didn't understand, I don't speak garbage."

That's it! I'm all for witty throwdowns but Quinn's retorts were getting more and more petty by the second.

"No, I don't think even garbage would want to talk to you, Quinn," I said, stepping beside the bullied goth.

She scoffed. "It's Gwen," she corrected, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder. So that's her name! I didn't hear her name clearly when she said it before. I guess all the moaning drowned it out.

But that's right! Gwen Bellingham was even on my list of suspects before, until Louie ruled her out because of sluttiness. I'm not holding that against her. That'd be hypocritical of me. It just ruled her out because, as Louie pointed out, she probably lost her virginity way before I... came in her picture.

Gwen eyeballed Emma and me. "And really? You're stepping in for the witch, Trev?"

I shrugged. "I guess I am."

"What, is she, like, your new fuckbuddy? Is that it?"

I shook my head simply. "Nah, we only had sex once and it was a month ago –"

Emma elbowed my side with such a force, I missed a breath. Okay, I deserved that. Watch your mouth, Trev. Next time you run it, Emma would probably aim at a lower region. Reminding myself that, I decided to make it up with the next that came out of my mouth.

I continued, "And I gotta say, Emma's a lot better in bed that you."

Gwen's face widened in shock.  Whoops! Cat's out of the bag.  Her group of trust fund babies gasped at the sudden revelation. 

"You slept with him?" one of her cronies questioned.  The way she said my pronoun like it was scum on her mouth would have offended me, but the only one offended in the scenario was Gwen.

Too appalled to even think of a comeback, she twirled around and left. Her cronies followed suit, probably to confirm whether their little queen bee went down and dirty with the likes of me once.  

"What the hell was that?!"

I turned. Crossing her arms, Emma looked at me with disdain. Nothing new here.

"You're welcome, Emma." I scoffed. "I was just being your knight in shining armor against those trolls."

"I don't need a knight in shining armor," she replied, going on her way. I followed her.

"Oh, yeah? Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, a shining armor is an untested armor. And an untested armor is just a testament to how useless and inexperienced the knight wearing it is. Also, I don't need your help."

"But, I need yours," I said, making her stop in her tracks.

"You need my help?"

I nodded.

She looked at me in disbelief, mouth hanging open and eyebrows creased. "You have the audacity –"

"Would you just hear me out? Please?" I pleaded, giving it my best puppy face.

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Then, she nodded.

I smiled. Time to put in that subtlety that I practiced. "I have a problem."

"And?" she said impatiently.

"See, I pissed off this girl about two months ago," I started. "I kinda threw her out of my house–"

"Literally," she added, her eyes narrowing.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, literally. But I wanna make it up to her–"

"Then maybe you should throw yourself off a balcony!" she exclaimed and walked off again.

I groaned. It would have been easier to settle an argument between PC and console gamers than to get Emma to tone her hostility towards me down. But I persisted.

"I'll do it!" I yelled, running after her.

"What?!" she exclaimed, turning around and bumping into me in the process. She pushed me off the next second.

I drew my hands up before she could throw a punch or something. Geez, you gotta be careful with these types of people. You know, the homicidal types. I'm not even joking. She said it herself a while ago: she's on parole.

"I'll do it," I repeated, softer this time. "I'll jump off a balcony if that gets you to forgive me."

She studied me and then snorted. "No, you wouldn't."

"I would," I insisted, and I was dead set on it. "You could watch me do it. Hell, you can even push me off if you'd like."

"I don't think my parole officer would like it if I were anywhere near a bad incident," she said, giving me weird looks.

"Well," I said, contemplating. "We could get you binoculars and you can watch the incident from a few blocks away..."

"Or you could just make it up to me in a way that doesn't have to involve an incident?" she suggested.

An apology that doesn't involve any incident. "I can... write you a formal apology letter?" I asked, unsure of what she was suggesting.

She laughed at my face. For a raccoon, she sounded more like a hyena. But it was cute. I don't recall seeing her laugh that much. "You're stupid, Trevor Jettison," she stated.

"Yeah, well, you fucked me once so what would that make you?" I bit back.

Emma's laughter stopped and she sent a solid slap to the side of my head. "I thought you were apologizing."

"I am!" I said. "I'm sorry, I'll be nice. Just do me this favor."

"No," she replied and trotted off.

Groaning, I jogged after her again.  "Go on a date with me," I blurted out.

"What?!" she exclaimed, side-eyeing me.  

"Not like a date date. Like an I'm-sorry-I-threw-you-off-my-balcony date."

"So like a pity date?"

"No!" I exasperated.  "Like an apology date."

"I don't think that's a thing."

"It will be if you meet me here on Saturday, 5 p.m.."

"No."

"I'll be nice."

"No."

"I'll take you some place fun."

"No."

"I'll buy you food."

She stopped.  Emma faced me with arched brows and an interested look on her face. "Keep talking."

Finally! "Lots of food.  I know a great place right by the outskirts of town.  We can get pizza, waffles, tacos, chocolates--"  Emma cringed at the last one. "You don't like chocolates?"

"Too sweet," she commented, shaking her head.  Figures.  

"We can leave out chocolates but there are plenty more food.  It's like a United Nation of food carts," I quickly saved. "So, you in?"

Emma pursed her lips.  A few seconds ticked by and I held my breath.  Any second now. Yup.  Just a few more milliseconds.

"Okay."

I gasped. Air! Glorious oxygen!

Emma was looking at me, her face all scrunched up. "Were you holding your breath?"

"No," I lied. "So 5 p.m.? Saturdate?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Ready your wallet, Jettison." Emma didn't wait for my reply. She'd given her reply. I had to step up to the challenge. I got off easy. At least she didn't ask me go streaking on our football field.

When she was out of sight, I fist pumped in the air. John Bender-style. I got a date with destiny (and Emma). Saturday could not come sooner.

Pay attention to the characters, babies. ^3~