Love Me Crazy

17. Stars

"What are you watching?" I heard Oliver inquire as he sauntered around the couch, plopping his butt down on the leather sofa.

"America's next…highest…top model…whatever," I murmured, while thrusting a shovel load of ice cream into my mouth.

"I thought you hated these shitty reality TV shows."

I rolled my eyes, "I do…they make me feel less shitty."

"Oh…that's actually nice logic."

I nodded, glad my brother wasn't in the "Let me annoy you even though you're already pissed" stage. I certainly didn't need any help with being depressed. Well, I wasn't depressed. I was just highly confused…confusion can almost look like depression. Especially for a girl like me, who can eat a bucket of ice cream if she stubs her foot on a door the wrong way.

But this bucket of creamery wasn't for some stupid klutz move. It was for Bastion.

Bastion…

Just the sound of his name makes me melt and die all at the same moment. I can't understand him at all. I especially can't understand what he does for me. I had gone from despising him to adoring him in the course of two hours on Monday. And now where am I? I'm moping on a couch because once again, he's disappeared.

His sister's returned to school in the past week but only for a few classes. They had the demeanor of zombies and the attitude of the devil. Something had certainly irked them. I wasn't certain but something told me it had to do with Bastion performing in the skit. Maybe they hadn't wanted him to see me.

I rolled my eyes. Of course they didn't want him to see me! I was Mary Brighton; in other words…dirt. They were some millionaire family who owned every school in the Kingston district. Of course they didn't like me.

But why did they chastise their brother in order to show their aversion? There was something spiteful about the family. And it had me consumed. He had me consumed. And though he professed his admiration for me at the most inconvenient and cruelest of times, I admired Bastion. I truly did.

"Mary! What the hell is wrong with you?!" came a scream as I realized reality was still progressing. Oliver had vanished to the front hallway and my ice cream was melting down my pants. I groaned, jumping up as I reached for a napkin. I wiped my sticky jeans as I heard the screen door open.

"Hey," I heard someone say in a cheerful, familiar voice.

"Well hello…and who might you be?" I heard Oliver reply in a sly tone. I snickered, knowing he was about to give this unfortunate individual a hard time.

"I'm-" the person began.

"A serial killer? Pimp daddy? Cause I'm seriously sick of you bastards," Oliver finished, his dry sense of humor surprising even me.

"Um…no…I'm one of-"

"The mafia's buddies….come on, give me something here."

"No…I'm not part of the mafia or any gang. I just came to-"

"Kill me. If you are, I would prefer you do it with a gun. Knives and ropes are far too personal."