How To Be A Good Boy?

{Chapter One}

I have this philosophy of life- it gives you what you need and not what you want. Yeah, that's not my philosophy but my grandma said something along these lines some time in past. I'll die of extra strain on my brain if I think too deep into things.
 
With her philosophy in mind, I thought of ways to turn Satan into good boy. I think I should think ways of making pigs fly. I can think of that. But I can't think of a way to make the bad boy good.
 
That's why I resorted to online help. When you can get information about something, use technology. Google is a blessing to humanity.
 
There was a list of several things. I could hardly imagine Finn doing any of them.
 
Respecting girls. I snorted.
 
I guess it was going to be the most difficult task of my life. To help Finn Black respect girls.
 
But I couldn't stop myself from wondering why he decided to be a good boy all of sudden.
 
Maybe he saw God in his dreams who asked him to redeem himself.
 
Or Devil came to his nightmare and said he'd rot in hell for all the sins he had committed.
 
Or he is playing with me.
 
All three possibilities sounded so true. But the last one really bothered me.
 
Was it some kind of prank? I didn't want to be used by Finn Black. Not that it'd ever happen. But I also didn't want to be a victim to his pranks.
 
My thoughts were completely negative about the arrangement. My question was - why? A big fat Jupiter sized 'why?'
 
I told my mom that Finn was coming over. She instantly wore that excited teenager look before her first date with her crush. I wouldn't be surprised if she laid down red carpet and threw flower petals on him when he arrived. I'd only die of embarrassment.
 
Mom kind of liked Finn. The next door neighbor was her role model. He stood like a model and acted like a brat all the time. He was a bad boy, bad being an understatement. But everyone failed to see past the handsome mask he wore. Every time he flashed that dazzling smile of pearly white teeth, mom's heart melted. It was kind if annoying to watch her fawning over a boy of her daughter's age. Not that she is my real mother.
 
Regina Hills is my step mother. She is nice and I like her.
 
I watched from my window as Finn stepped out of front door of his house. Without waiting, I rushed downstairs.
 
Mom welcomed him warmly into house while I watched from the bottom of stairs hiding behind shadows hoping I become invisible so he would leave. He was no longer wearing his signature leather jacket and ripped jeans. He was dressed in simple white shirt with top two buttons opened and dark blue jeans.
 
He looked good. Like really good.
 
He was handsome. There was no denying of the fact. But he was ugly at heart and that's what actually matters. So we conclude that he is ugly despite his good looks.
 
"Aubrey," Mom screamed my name at the top of her lungs when she passed the stairs. I winced at the loudness of her voice. She didn't even notice me standing there. But Finn did. His eyes fell on me and he smirked. That cocky smirk is a part of his arrogance and arrogance is a big part of his personality.
 
"Mom, I'm here." I muttered.
 
She stopped and turned to me with a surprised look on her face. Her blonde hair fell in her eyes which she removed with her manicured hands.
 
"Why are you hiding here?" She asked me with a frown.
 
"I'm not hiding mom. I just came downstairs." I lied. It'd be difficult to explain why was I hiding. If there was one more person in this home then I'd say I was playing hide and seek.
 
"I didn't hear sound of your footsteps." She argued.
 
You were so busy welcoming him you wouldn't have noticed an earthquake.
 
"Because I was quiet." I said with finality and looked at Finn who was staring at the stairs. "Let's go Finn."
 
I climbed upstairs ignoring whatever mom told him before he started following me. I entered the room. No, not my room but guest room. I was not going to show him my room.
 
"Is this your room?" He asked looking around.
 
"No." I shook my head. He nodded and looked at me sternly. I felt intimidated by his serious expression but decided not to show it and sat on the bed. The door was wide open. He eyed it before sitting on a beanbag at the corner of the room.
 
"Listen, I have conditions," he started and I nodded my head.
 
"You will have two months to make me a good boy. Don't tell about this to anyone. I may hang out with you but you will say we are friends. Don't reveal this good boy thing to anyone. Not even a single soul." He told me and I nodded.
 
Two months of torture deposited in my account of life.
 
"Okay, start your lesson." He said leaning forward. He had a notebook and own with him. He opened the notebook and uncapped the pen.
 
"Okay..." I was unsure what to say exactly. I cleared my throat.
 
"Being a good boy doesn't mean you should have a particular dress code. But if you want to live an image of good boy you can dress like that. It's fine." I pointed at his clothes.
 
"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm wearing that. I was thinking of adding glasses too. Do you think I should add them?" He said with a strange look on his face as if asking me to do something was painful. Maybe his ego was hurting. I wanted to laugh but restrained myself from doing so. He isn't a good boy yet.
 
"Not necessarily." I shook my head. "And good boys avoid sarcasm." I told him with a small nod.
 
He glared at me.
 
I looked away from him. "Good boys are polite. They don't think of murdering someone with their eyes." I said peeking at him from the corner of my eye. He sighed and closed his eyes taking a deep breath.
 
"Now that's nice."
 
"Don't you glare at someone? I remember you glaring at me earlier today." He pointed at you.
 
"That's because I'm not a big fan of you." I said.
 
"And I'm not a big fan of you. That means I can glare." He said opening his eyes glaring playfully at me. He had a triumphant glint in them.
 
"But when I'm tutoring you, talking to you nicely, you can't glare at me."
 
"But I was nice to you too." He countered.
 
I stared at him blankly as my mind back to library where he had slammed his hand against desk to get my attention.
 
He stared back at me unblinking.
 
I sighed when I realized he was not kidding. I guess there was a lot of work to do.
 
"We will talk about this later," I muttered making him frown at me.
 
"What? You are not accepting where you went wrong?"
 
I looked at him with disbelief. He is going to be my worse student ever.
 
"No. I am not wrong. I'm talking about your idea of politeness. How do you even get girls on your feet with that attitude?" I wondered.
 
"What's wrong with my attitude?" He asked me with voice laced in anger. "And I don't get them falling in my feet. They do it on their own."
 
I shook my head.
 
"Good boys have different idea if politeness. We will talk about it later." I told him.
 
He frowned leaning back staring at me boringly.
 
"I can't make you good boy sitting inside this room. We have to go outside, interact socially and improve your skills. Okay?" I raised an eyebrow.
 
He scoffed.
 
"My skills are good. No, they are the best. Ask any of those girls in or outside of the school." He said smugly with a smirk.
 
I had to stop myself from chocking him with a pillow.
 
"The most important quality of a good boy is- he respects girl." I said flatly. "Whatever you do with all those girls, you can't do it anymore. If you want to do that stuff, get a girlfriend."
 
"This is going to be really difficult. But fine. I won't do it anymore." He agreed.
 
"Right," I nodded.
 
"Do I have to change my friends?" He inquired.
 
I thought about it for a minute.
 
"Um... If they are your best friends then no but if they are friends only for popularity then yes. You don't need to stop. Just less interaction is fine."
 
"And football?"
 
"You can play it. There's nothing wrong with sports." I shrugged. "But you have to be good in studies also."
 
"My grades are usually Bs with As sometimes. It's Spanish that always gets me an A+." He told me proudly.
 
"Well that's fine I guess. If you want to you can put a little more effort but you are doing just fine with football and all."
 
I was almost impressed.
 
"Do I have to give up my bike?"
 
"I personally think 'no' but for a good boy image 'yes'."
 
He pursed his lips as if he was not satisfied with the answered. His forehead crinkled in concentration as he thought about something. He stared hard at ground and pouted.
 
"Fine," he grumbled.
 
"You have to respect your teachers and elders. Don't bully anyone. Don't make fun of anyone."
 
I was reciting everything I read on that website.
 
"What about parties? Can I go to parties?" He inquires.
 
"Yeah, but you don't have to show your face in every other party. And don't get drunk. No making out with random girls. If you want to dance, no crossing the limits." I said gravely.
 
"I never cross limits. They attack me." He told me flatly.
 
I rolled my eyes. This boy is so arrogant.
 
"Uh, and don't hit anyone. Not even when you get angry. Good boys never inflict pain on someone intentionally."
 
He nodded again and he scribed something on notebook. I had noticed him writing while I was telling him. Was he taking notes? Really?
 
"What are you writing?" I asked pointing at the notebook.
 
"See yourself," he said throwing the notebook at me. It hit my face before falling on my lap. I scowled at him and he smirked. I looked in his notebook.
 
His handwriting was like that of a third grader. Words were separated and their size was large. Some slated to left, some slanted to right.
 
The title was written in capital letters sticking to each other. "HOW TO BE A GOOD BOY?"
 
1. Dress like dad. No glasses needed.
2. No sarcasm. Be polite. Don't glare at brunette. She gets touchy.
 
I looked at him to throw him a lethal glare. He was busy fiddling with his phone.
 
3. Respect girls. If they throw themselves on my feet, kick them away.
 
I winced.
 
4. Play football.
5. Don't study much.
6. Keep Ryder as friend and throw others away.
7. Respect teachers and elders.
8. No bullying. No fun.
9. Less partying.
10. No dancing with hot girls. Again no fun.
11. No making out with sexy chicks.
12. No drinking.
13. No fighting. Again NO fun.
 
That was the end of list. I noticed he didn't write anything about his bike.
 
'Respect' is going to be a big issue. But for some reason I feel he had written it just for fun. He won't kick anyone.
 
Well, one doesn't change in one day.
 
I returned him his notebook throwing it at him. He caught it with precision. I raised my eyebrows. He was good.
 
It was already an hour so he decided to leave. He said he'd pick me the next day and we would go for lunch. I agreed dumbly knowing he was not asking be for a lunch date. He was actually up for social interaction as a good boy.
 
I hope this all ends soon.
 
*** ***