Song: Your Body is a Weapon
Artist: The Wombats
Chapter 8
Frederic jumped in the shower as soon as he got home. He avoided his parents when he got out and stared at his wardrobe. Never in his life, he thought, to get ready for a party again. This differed from the last time. This time he knew the host. Octavia told them to dress casually, but he never knew what casual meant in her eyes. She came from a wealthy family, but her appearance said otherwise. The only branded items she wore were shoes.
Wahid texted ten minutes later and asked where he was. Frederic grabbed the first tee he got his hands on and forced his feet into a pair of Vans. He shut his room door before he left. The plan was to say that he'd spend the night at Wahid's while Wahid was here. In reality, they weren't too sure where they'd end up by the end of the night.
Frederic arrived at the Nazari's household and before he turned the car off, Wahid walked out the front door. Mrs Nazari was right behind. She narrowed her eyes at her son as he got into the passenger seat.
'Wh—what's with your mom?' Frederic whispered, then looked through the window. 'Afternoon, Mrs Nazari.'
'Frederic, always nice to see you.' Mrs Nazari leaned on the car door and stared at Wahid with her coal-dark eyes. 'Where are you boys off to?'
'Getting some food then hanging out at Frederic's for the night, Mama.'
'Whole night?' she raised a brow, and Wahid shrugged. 'Don't eat too much and don't forget to pray.'
Wahid groaned and nodded. Mrs Nazari was about to say something else, but Wahid pressed the button and the window slowly rose. She gasped, then yelled things in broken English. Mrs Nazari always got like that. It's as if she didn't know whether to scold him in Arabic or English.
'Drive! Before she changes her mind!' Wahid slapped Frederic's thigh. He jolted and reversed out of the driveway. Mrs Nazari stopped and silently watched the car speed off down the street. 'She must not know.'
'Yeah, my parents don't know either.'
'Will they even care?' Wahid snorted. 'I bet your dad will be so proud if you came home drunk. Do you even have a curfew? You people are lucky. I bet if you told them, your dad would bring out a condom.'
'Dude, what?'
'I'm just stating facts.' Wahid raised his hands. 'Some parents are weird. Those 'live in the moment, you're young' but yell at you once you come home with an STD.'
'Can we not talk about this?' Frederic fiddled with the radio. 'At least your mom cares. Every time we go out she's on your case, not to be annoying but because she's worried. My folks care about shit that I don't care about.'
'Mama doesn't have to worry about me.' Wahid rested his hands on his hips. 'I'm Wahid Nazari.'
The radio finally worked and through the static, Desiigner blared in Frederic's Honda. Wahid rapped along, which only made Frederic drive faster. They arrived in Lionel View and Wahid turned down the music. Each mansion they passed, they gaped at how big it was. Properties with fences, big gardens, oddly shaped hedges, fountains, sports cars parked in the driveway and some even sat on top of a hill.
The GPS snapped them out of their trance, and they turned to the left. Unlike all the other houses, this one had to be the blandest. Frederic double-checked the address Octavia gave him. The house looked like an office building. They fenced the entire property off and the driveway curled up to the house. Tinted windows that covered three floors.
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The Final Wait
Teen FictionWhat happens in Saint Beaurage, stays in Saint Beaurage. Yet when a newcomer, Octavia Mora, turns up at Vega Front High two weeks before summer break, questions raise and pasts revive. All the while, she forms the oddest friendships. Octavia will n...