Pickled

| nine |

Chapter Nine

It was Friday afternoon, and Diana still couldn't decide which incident earlier that day had been stranger: the fact that she had gotten an 85% on her Spanish quiz, or that Alex had asked her on a date.

Granted, Alex had been incapable of communicating whether or not he meant for it to be a date. He had approached her at the end of the day, while Diana was emptying her locker of the books she would need for the weekend. Ever since Alex had discovered where her locker was located, it had become his favorite spot to socialize with her.

When Diana told him what she'd gotten on her Spanish quiz, Alex's grin nearly split his face in half. "That's great!" he'd exclaimed loudly, patting her on the shoulder – though he did so cautiously, just in case Diana tried to whack his hand away. "I'm so happy for you. I knew you were good at Spanish."

"I wouldn't go that far," Diana replied, stuffing her Psychology book into the last available space of her backpack. "This was definitely a fluke thing. We're probably in the Twilight Zone."

"Lies," he told her. Diana was zipping up her bag when he asked. "So. Want to get a milkshake with me tonight?"

Diana straightened up, swinging her backpack over one shoulder and giving him an odd look. "A milkshake?"

"Yeah. You know, milk and ice cream. In liquid form."

"I know what a milkshake is," she interrupted flatly. Diana eyed him, picturing the exact look Millie would be giving her if her friend was overhearing this conversation. "Like, as a date?"

Alex shrugged. His hands were deep in the pockets of his track suit jacket. "I don't know. Like, us hanging out like we always do, except with a change of atmosphere. Meaning there will be no pickles involved."

She stared him down. "So, a date."

"Well, milkshakes. Call it whatever you like."

Diana refrained from rolling her eyes; Alex was infuriating when he refused to give a straight answer. She hiked up the strap of her bag with one hand and slammed her locker shut with the other, focusing on her movements instead of looking at him. "Well, whatever it is, I can't. We deep-clean the kitchen every Friday night."

She didn't see his expression because she'd turned away, starting for the school's exit with Alex falling into step beside her. His tone sounded a bit disappointed as he responded, "Oh. Are you sure you can't take a vacation day?"

The words "vacation day" actually made Diana laugh. "That doesn't exist in my family."

Alex hooked his thumbs around the straps of his backpack, sighing heavily. "If your Dad didn't scare me so much, I would have a serious talk with him. How are you supposed to do anything else besides pickle stuff?"

"Please never say 'pickle stuff' again." Diana side-stepped a couple leaning against a row of chipped blue-painted lockers, her nose wrinkling in annoyance and an involuntary ugh escaping her.

"What?" Alex asked, then glanced over his shoulder to see what Diana had been disgusted by. He grinned at her when he realized what it was, but she avoided his expression by shoving open the entrance door and stepping out of the school. "Not a fan of PDA, are you?"

Diana struggled slightly in putting her jacket hood up over her head, because it was sprinkling lightly – as usual in Seattle. She trudged down the cement steps at the front of the school, squinting through the afternoon mist to spot her bus among the crowds of students. Alex was still looking at her pointedly as he walked beside her, and Diana realized she had yet to answer.

Absentmindedly, she told him, "That wasn't PDA, they were just in my way. I mean, what's the point of hanging out next to your locker, moaning about how you're going to miss each other? We'll be back on Monday. I don't get it, I really don't."

"They do the same thing between classes," Alex agreed. He blinked rain from his eyes, finally remembering to put his hood on. "That's what I don't understand. 'Oh no, I have to go forty minutes without seeing you, oh no I'm going to die.' It's hysterical."

Diana snorted, and a sophomore girl standing beside the steps, talking into a cellphone, shot her an annoyed glance. Diana returned the look whole-heartedly. It was Friday afternoon, and Diana was well past her weekly limit of dealing with other high school students. Her patience was fading fast.

"So, no milkshakes," Alex sighed. They were nearly to Diana's bus – Alex's was at the front of the line a little further down, since his apartment was closer to school. "Plan B, then. I have a lacrosse game tomorrow night. Would you want to come watch?"

"A game?" Diana frowned. She had never willingly come back onto school grounds over the weekend.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not a big game or anything," he added quickly. "This isn't like, homecoming. I just thought it would be cool if you came. You could bring Millie."

They stopped beside her bus, and Diana looked up at him under the cover of her hood, trying to read his expression. It couldn't be a date, right? She would just be watching the game. And it wasn't like she had another excuse – Saturday night was one of the rare times of the week where her parents didn't give her something to do.

"I'll think about it," she said finally.

Alex grinned widely, continuing on toward his own bus. "It'll be better than slicing pickles, I swear."

"Anything's better than that," Diana admitted.

Alex waved before turning away, disappearing into the final crowds of students heading for their respective buses. It took Diana a moment to realize she herself had not gotten on her bus, and so she shook herself with annoyance as she rounded the open door and stepped up.

It was a strange day, Diana thought to herself as she sat towards the back of the bus. She pulled off her hood slowly, wiping the rain from her palm onto the fabric of her sweatpants and staring at nothing as she mulled over their conversation.

Had Alex intended the milkshake thing to be a date? It would be in Millie's book, but then again, Millie had thought Alex watching Diana cook brine was a date. She would have to decide whether or not his invitation to the lacrosse game had been intended as a date, too.

Diana didn't have time for dates. She didn't have time for whatever "dates" implied, either.

By the time her bus ride was over and Diana was stepping onto her street, she was still no closer to determining what Alex's invitation meant – and, worse, she still hadn't decided if she would go.