Twice The Trouble

Chapter 33: A Martyr

Sophia

"Sophia!?"

A-a-a-and.. I saw this coming.

Wait. No. I knew LUCAS would be stumped.

I didn't expect Bryce, his twin, to be here, too.

The De Los Reyes brothers shared the same slack-jawed stare.

Behind me, Stacy was laughing so hard, clutching her stomach.

It was her idea not to tell anyone from school yet, emphatically, them.

Lifting my right hand, I waved awkwardly at the two tall teenagers..

..who were holding up the line. Some of the people were getting antsy.

"Hey, guys," I greeted them with a small smile. I was weary but I hid it.

Lucas kept staring at me, his mouth open, as he walked slowly to my table.

He wore a dark green unbuttoned polo thrown over a white shirt and jeans.

A lot of people in line were sporting something in green: shirt, dress, pants, shoes.

I guess it was because of my namesake? S. Green, because it was my favorite color.

"YOU? Y-you're.. You're S. Green, my favorite author?" Lucas asked in disbelief.

"To my knowledge.. yes?" I answered with uncertainty, rubbing the side of my neck.

"Hey! What's the hold up over there? Hurry up!" hollered a guy from the line.

Lucas craned his neck to flash the line-waiters an apologetic smile. Then he brought his brown eyes back on mine, and, with the clothed table sandwiching us both, he proffered his two books to me.

I quickly flipped them open to the first page and scribbled my autograph with a smiley face. I always put smiley faces on my signatures.

Before clapping the novels closed, I wrote: To Lucas, Thank You for Reading my books!

And in the second book, I cleverly scribbled in small letters: Thanks for the midnight talks

As I handed him back his copies, Lucas stared at me with dilated brown eyes and whispered: "You never told me you were a published author."

I whispered back: "You never asked. And it felt like bragging, so why bother?"

Seeing the impatient frowns on the people in the line, Lucas scurried away, outside the red ropes.

With a mirthful smile, I greeted Bryce: "I didn't know you read my books, Bryce."

The tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed 18-year-old wore a pale gray shirt and shamrock-green pants.

His face was stoic but I could see the gleam of surprise in his dark blue eyes. "Just one of them."

I took the inky-blue-coated novel from his hand and I flipped it open to the first page. He must be fascinated by British murder mystery-thrillers since he favored "Scarlet Thread" of the two.

While I signed my name on the yellowish-white page, I heard someone yell: "I love you, S. Green!"

I raised my chin and caught sight of a young brunette in a green tank top and skinny jeans. She must be around fourteen or fifteen years old, and she was waving her arm to get my attention.

"I love you, too!" I called out to her, and she squealed.

"You sure are reckless, saying that to a complete stranger," Bryce remarked as I shut his book.