We the Weirdos

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lysander chuckled awkwardly, "C-c-crimnal? W-w-what are you talking about?" He plastered a smile on his face, but he actually looked like he was grimacing and coughing at the same time.

Then a realization hit me. Did my parents know about Lysander? He didn't even GET arrested, for God's sake! He was just pulled in for a questioning and that was it! Maybe I need to adopt some new parents. Some sane ones.

Well, sane shouldn't be the word. Probably just some parents that can think things through. I'm not saying my parents suck or anything (hey, they even let me get a Cheeze-it stash, and that's all you need to do to get on my good side), I'm just saying there's places to improve.

My dad raised an eyebrow at Lysander. "Don't play dumb with me, Leonardo."

There is wrong with people and saying the wrong names.

"I-it's Lysander, sir." Lysander said pathetically. It was weird to see the big, tall Lysander afraid of a short man (no offense, dad, please don't murder me but if you do, please do it to Lysander first).

If you didn't know, I hate awkward conversations, so the first thing I did at that time was Make A Fool Of Myself By Pretending To Be In Pain But In Reality I Was Trying To Help Lysander But That Blind Bat Couldn't Tell So My Parents Were On A Verge Of A Heart Attack But At Least We Were In A Hospital.

That was literally the longest title of a plan I had ever come up with, but at least that made my parents forget about the idiot Lysander there, who was just panicking and NOT helping.

So this is what happened:

Me: Mom, my leg hurts! I think the monster that bites you when you sleep bit me.

Mom: OH MY GOSH, SWEETIE, ARE YOU OKAY? DO I NEED TO GET YOU ANYTHING TO HELP IT? MY GOODNESS, IS IT BLEEDING?

Dad: *totally oblivious to what I just told Mom) Julia, are you alright there? You don't seem to look alright there.

Mom: GREG, JULIA'S LEG GOT BIT! WE NEED TO DO SOMETHING!

I didn't actually think she'd take it seriously, but this is what will happen when your parents are panicking.

Dad: Who's Greg? That's not me.

Lysander: EEK, MAYBE SHE'S DYING! I KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO! WE SHOULD-

Not helping, Lysander, not helping.

Me: Maybe getting me more Cheeze-its and bringing me back home would help. And away from that weird school of ten people in Hawaii.

Mom: Yes, sweetheart! We'll do that. Greg, could you go to the grocery store to pick up a few bags of Cheeze-its? Thanks, Greg.

Dad: Okay, but have you noticed how Julia's not screaming in pain anymore? And how exactly are children's snacks supposed to help her? And my name's still not Greg.

Why did my dad have to do this to me? I finally could 1) get their attention off of Lysander (who is literally ruining it for himself) and 2) get myself some not stale Cheeze-its because I'm kinda running low on the scrabble Cheeze-its.

At least my mom didn't hear the first two sentences of what Dad said.

Dad: Maybe we should give her some cherry medicine her doctor prescribed.

No, thank you. Creators of fruit-flavored medicine have never truly tasted real fruit.

Lysander: Hello? I exist. Maybe you could call the doctor-

Mom: I have an idea! We could call the doctor!

Lysander: Hey, I came up with that! Plagiarism, woman, plagiarism!