caught playing hooky

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It happens one midday afternoon as you're strolling about doing jackshit. For once, not following Rowan or the other way around because apparently, he's busy. Which is very suspicious considering he's got like, what, two friends total? And you're being extra generous to even consider counting Xavier since it's a given to be at the very least, cordial with your roommate. But whatever, you're not gonna snoop into his business. If he wants to jack off somewhere you're not gonna peek.

"Tell your friend there's no practice this week." Bianca demands, leering down at you where you're sat at the lunch table with your vampire cohorts, menacingly slurping on coconut juice. They didn't even bring up the fact this is the first time you hung out with them in a long while, how nice.

"Which friend? You have to be more specific, I have a lot." you obnoxiously suck the remains out of the straw.

She raises her eyebrows, as if she can't believe you didn't get it the first time. Bianca has the unique ability of making anyone feel stupid with just a look. It's amazing. "Rowan." duh.

"Ah," you hum, not quite understanding why she's making you pass the message when she could just tell him herself. "Okay." you don't protest though because no one questions Bianca, not even you.

Then, while you're talking to Enid or really, being the ear to her very talkative mouth, a faceless classmate comes up to you with an envelope and signs for you to give it to Rowan before abruptly disappearing like a poltergeist. The thought of telling her to give it to him doesn't even pass your overly cluttered mind. Enid can be a really immersive story teller when she wants to be.

It keeps happening throughout the day. Somebody stops you in the hall to ask about Rowan's whereabouts, tells you to pass on a message, give this and that to Rowan, Rowan, Rowan, Rowan.

By the end of it, your dresser is stocked full of things that don't belong to you, practically overflowing to the ground. You sink into the multiple layers of blanket on your bed after getting the last one out of your pocket. Your feet kicks into the air as you whine to Yoko across the room. "Where's Rowan? Can you tell Rowan this? Give this to Rowan for me? Bla, bla, bla." you mock. "People used to talk to me, for me. But now it's like I'm his little sidekick. Always Rowan this, Rowan that- honestly, it's making me feel a bit neglected."

Yoko mulishly talks as she applies makeup on her face. It's incredible how she's able to move her lips around the pencil without smudging. "If you didn't hang out with him so much, maybe people would stop talking about him." okay, so maybe she hasn't moved on from the fact you left her in the dust to go run around with Rowan.

You don't rise to the bait. "I don't get it, why can't they just go to him?"

She gives you a look. A lot of people like to make you feel stupid today. "You probably don't notice, because you're a freak," you make an offended noise. "But he's a creep. He just doesn't have the charm to make people brush it off. Like you."

"Why do you keep bringing me up? We're talking about Rowan here."

She does it so obviously you can tell she's rolling her eyes at you from under that crusty sunglasses she never takes off. Ever. "He's a sore loser with a short temper. You make him look approachable. Which isn't a compliment, because you usually do the opposite."

"Okay, so?" the thinly veiled insults are starting to make you sad. You need to make it up to her or something.

Yoko abandons the makeup and turns to you, completely baffled. "Are you telling me... he never, not once, got mad at you?"

"What? Of course he does. I rile him up on purpose." you look away under her judging gaze, like a naughty child being scolded by their older sister. Told to stop picking on one of the kids. "He just-" you try to explain. "He gets so red and huffy, you know? It's so cute. Like, he gives the best reactions out of everyone, all the time. He's practically begging me to make him cry." you say with a fond, if a bit sadistic smile.

 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑡𝑐𝘩 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝐶𝑎𝑡 | rowan laslowWhere stories live. Discover now