“Salut, meuf,” I said to my best friend, Becks. She was eating her vegetable intake for the year. It was rare to find her eating a salad.
“Salut? What the hell? Girl, it’s Spanish class next. You haven’t even taken French!” she laughed, chucking a hunk of peach at me. An almond that was tagging along, separated and hit me in the eye.
“Everyone knows French darling. It’s the language of the Gods,” I drawled trying to hide my slip up. Like I cared about French.
“Bitch please. Since when did you become fake?I swear if you become of the dumb girls in English that always wear pink, I will tit punch you.” She stabbed a pom-pom size portion of greens onto her fork. Satisfied that she finally had a real bite, she stretched her mouth wide.
Becks says she should have been born a man, but she’s too lazy to do anything about it. For now she’s okay with being called a girl. That’s good ole Becks. If she’s not gaming, shooting hoops, or eating she’d rather sleep.She doesn’t have the energy to do anything else.
I don’t want to stereotype but the way Becks looks at steak isn’t normal, and I’m inclined to believe her. But really, you can never tell if she’s joking.
I chuckled. “Alright, alright. But only if you can beat their offer to take me to Paris.” There was no offer, but I was trying to brush the oddness of the situation from her mind with distraction.
“Hmmm, I’ll have my mom make us tacos today,” said Becks.
“Deal,” I replied and we shook. “Shit,” I said as Becks grinned. “It’s Tuesday isn’t it? You have to ask her to make them again another day of the week too. It doesn’t count if she’s already making them!”
She shot the empty salad bowl into the trash. “Annie, we already shook on it. And I can’t do take-backses without losing you as a friend.” Smug.
“Fuck you,” I said. “Lazy ass.” I grumbled as I put my books away in my backpack. I dug around for my lunch and mumbled, “Fucking Rebecca,” under my breath so she could hear.
“Come on, let’s get to class. We’re already ten minutes late,” said Becks.
“What!? When did that happen? I haven’t even eaten!” I moaned, horrified. Becks and I both got along so well because we loved food. A missed opportunity to eat is like wasting 10 years of your life.
“Seriously, where do you go? I’d say that you’re an airhead but I’m not sure if that covers everything.” She thought for a bit. “You know, in another life, I’d say you were an idiot. But when you’re actually focused on something or someone, you’re pretty awesome. I see that and I like that we’re friends.”
I stalked off knowing that Becks was following behind. If only she knew.
I sat in Spanish as Senior Garcia talked endlessly about complicated verb conjugations. I’d already done the homework, so I sat listening to him recite the textbook.
I leaned forward pretending to read the book, but focused. Instantly, I was back Lyon watching my father shake hands with another businessman. There was no contract on the table as they finished their deal. I pretended to sleep into my teddybear that he gave me. I disengaged the recording device within it.
“Mon chou,” said my father. “Bien dormi?” The other man had left the room.
“Oui, papa. J’ai faim,” I replied. With that he shuffled some paperwork from one drawer to the secretary outside and carried me to the candystore.