"We're not star-crossed," I rolled my eyes. "We have to actually like each other for us to qualify as star-crossed lovers."
Something unusual flickered momentarily in Wicked's expression, but I shrugged it off. That was just him being weird again.
"Right, so... star-crossed enemies?" Wicked piped up hopefully.
For the #300th time today, I rolled my eyes. Was it just me, or did I seem to do that a lot around Wicked? Wicked's retardedness never failed to boost my ego; to make me realize that I'm a normal person despite all my shortcomings; that Wicked was the real mentally unsound patient here. But... despite his apparent usefulness, he still annoyed the shit out of me, and I still hated him.
There, I said it.
"That's not the main point," I tried to coax him onto 'the-path-of-a-normal-person'. "The main point is-"
"Flipping Fibonacci!" Wicked exclaimed excitedly. "I got it!"
I mentally prepared myself to endure something incredibly stupid. And as it turned out, I was right in a way.
"Both our families should have dinner together, shake hands, be friends," Wicked suggested. "And hopefully, that clears the feud."
I swore my IQ dropped by at least ten points at that. "Didn't you just tell me ten seconds ago that our families bear many millenniums worth of grudges?"
"Germany hated USA (a.k.a us). But they still had some peace treaty right?"
"Right, and btw, its called the Treaty of Versailles. And everyone, besides you, knows that Germany screwed the treaty over and started World War 2 anyway," I countered intellectually. At least I listened in class, unlike Wicked, who apparently had completely no clue of his own country's turbulent history. In fact, I bet he didn't even know the name of our current President. That guy only cared about three things: himself, himself, and his Call of Duty video game.
"So," He began to digest the information in bite-sized bits. "So the moral of the story is that-"
"-is that: Your crap plan isn't going to work," I muttered darkly. "Newsflash."
People around us had already began filing out of the Chemistry lab. I gathered my labcoat, pencil case, and worksheets from the table, and removed myself from my seat. Talking to Wicked only had me learn to things: we were now star-crossed enemies, and that his IQ was lower than I had expected. At this rate, I wasn't going to find out anything about... our clashing families, which of course might cost us our lives later on.
At the beginning, when Wicked had taken a snipe at my 'witchness' as usual, and then suddenly went 'oh, by the way, we're enemies. Your family consist of witches, and mine of witch-hunters. AND... I'm supposed to kill you'.', I just stared at him like a fish out of water, gaping for breath. But later on, when he had explained the situation more thoroughly (with me cross-referencing the information with my family background, behaviours and experience), I began to slowly take his word with more than a pinch of salt. And when I had finished adding sodium hydroxide to the dish of hydrochloric acid, I came to realize that the gravity of the situation was serious, and that this wasn't something to fool around about.
And when our solution was bubbling, I decided to engage in actual conversation with Wicked - one that didn't include me cussing at him, and him laughing at my expense.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked, just before I left the class.
"You're going to ask it anyway," Wicked replied as a matter-of-factly. "There's no stopping nerds like you."
I ignored him completely. "Why didn't you... you know, kill me while you could?" My mind began to flash to countless of situations where he could have simply finished me off, like the time I sprained my ankle during Physical Education...
"I don't attack girls," He replied steadily. "That's against the manly code of manliness."
For once in my life, I was glad that Wicked was retarded; glad that he had retarded values; glad that he had a retarded manly code of manliness. To hide my relief, I said, "Doesn't your manly code of manliness include not teasing girls too?"
"If it did, I'd quit," Wicked told me seriously. "They can't ban a necessity."
I rolled my eyes for the third time that morning. Since his answer wasn't worthy of a reply from me, I soundlessly grabbed my belongings and stomped out of class.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
