Date: Tue, 28 Jan 2003 15:39:33 -0600 From: Karla Schulz Subject: Carrots and Celery Chapter Eight Hey everyone. So, it's been awhile huh? Life's just been both busy and crappy lately. Exams are zero percent fun friends and neighbors. Never forget that. That said, sorry I've been so slack about posting, and about responding to e-mails. I promise to try to catch up on that, cause all the e-mail really means tons and tons. I only have one exam left (thank GOD!) but the last couple days especially have just been insane with the writing and studying and panicking and all that fun stuff. So those are my excuses. Now you may go read chapter eight, remembering to give thanks to the wonderful Nick, who is both my pal and my editor. Unless he hates me and has decided to quit eidting for me. You never know. At lunch the next day (which, after skipping out yesterday afternoon, I consider myself very lucky to be able to be attending) I notice Brian is missing from our table. "Where's Brian?" I ask anyone who might know. Jonas appears surprised I need to ask, Celery looks slightly uncomfortable and Alex clears his throat nervously. "What?" How'd I end up totally in the dark? "He's in the gym, or in Mr. Strattchiks's office. You know, for the track meeting. Sign-up's today. Everyone's getting sorted and all that," Track? Track? Celery's in track. I turn my head sharply to look at him. "How come you're not there?" I mean, yeah, he's not exactly in his prime at the moment, but the actual season and even real practices won't start for a couple weeks, this is just to like check interest level and volume or whatever. He'd be fine to be on the team. "I'm not going to do track this year," "Why not?" "I don't feel like it," "Oh?" "More important things to do," he's trying to smile, to keep it light. What am I supposed to feel? Guilty for not doing the same about yearbook? Angry at him for possibly doing it to make me feel guilty? Dismiss that right away, Celery would never do something like that. Flattered? I think I should probably stick with flattered. "You're sure?" He nods. "100 percent." I smile. Then we frown, stupid no kissing rule. Jonas wipes his brow exaggeratedly. "Phew! Am I ever glad that's over! I hate it when you guys fight." Celery and I each smack him from opposite sides. Jonas looks to Alex for help, but he's laughing. "Everyone's against me," Jonas mutters, not looking upset in the least. During afternoon break, Cherrie and Meghan are looking for us (as usual) but this time we let ourselves be found. We listen to them express phoney sympathy over Celery and then ramble on about how this used to be such a good, safe school. The only time they express anything that might pass for genuine emotion is nervousness when they ask Celery if he has any idea who attacked him. We play dumb, and their plastic cheerfulness returns. Celery's still going to turn the guys in, but unless they roll on them (and I don't think they will) Cherrie and Meghan don't have anything to be worried about. "That was fun," Celery says without even bothering to sound sarcastic once we're walking away. "Oh, I know," I say in the same tone. "Bitches. It's a good thing I love you so much," "Same to you bub," It's another one of those times we really should be allowed to kiss. "Three more days," He says sadly. I nod. "Jumping topics slightly, have you thought about why you were the only one who got hurt? Like, why was I spared?" "I have, and my theory is that since I'm sort of viewed as the physically strong one," "Sort of?" He smiles. "Yes. Since that, maybe they thought it would shake you up more to see me hurt because then it's like 'oh no, he's supposed to protect me, and they got him so I'm screwed' or some such twisted bitch logic." "You're smart like this because of me right?" He laughs. "How else?" "What about Meghan, why would she allow you to get hurt? I mean, I assume it was a team effort," "Sure it was. It's a no pain no gain thing probably. Whatever works you know? Who cares who gets hurt in the process," "Stupid cultural taboos," "Huh?" "I'd really like to beat them both up," Celery makes his little amused out of the nose sound. "You're a sweetheart alright," "But they hurt my MAN! Nobody messes with the fiancé of Carrots Vasskez!" Ps, I love being able to say fiancé, it's totally the most fun thing ever. "Unless of course it's Carrots Vasskez himself right?" "Right." We've arrived at my class. "Aww, you walked me! How sweet," "Totally accidental," I roll my eyes. "Oh yeah, I believe you. Um, not. You just can't get enough of me," He looks at me like he wants to absorb me into himself with his eyes. They're shinning a ferocious blue. "Who could," I look quickly around, and the hall is empty except for a few puny grade 7's so I reach over and kiss him. "I know that's against the rules, but too fucking bad." "I love you," Sometimes when we say it, it's happy and just for the joy of it. Other times it's this desperate thing, like we NEED the other one to know it, the exact second we say it. This was one of those second scenario times. "And I love you," We steal another kiss, and then we separate to go to our classes. I'm in my locker after school (really IN it, practically all of me) digging around, looking for something, when I feel Celery's hands on my shoulders. "Cheater," I chastise, without removing my head from the depths of my locker. "How can I help it? You being so damn irresistible and all," His hands still massaging my admittedly tense shoulders. I groan a little, at having to do something I so desperately don't want to do. "Stop. Please. I'll to have to turn around and kiss you in a minute if you don't," "This is so lame," He says, allowing his hands to fall away. "I know," We try to do the express our love thing with our eyes for awhile. "What are you doing now?" I ask, trying to change the subject, only to realize I've walked into another landmine by the confused look on his face. "What d'you mean? Going to your house, doing homework, like EVERYDAY," I sigh. "Have fun," He finally clues in. "Oh, right," And there are the puppy dog eyes! Check out the extended bottom lip ladies and gentlemen! "I won't be long," I'm such a lair, "A couple hours maybe. I'll be home for supper probably," lies, all lies. "Go over anyway, and we can hang out when I get back." "Yeah, alright," "Try not to pout okay?" I beg slash instruct. "I do try, it just doesn't work," "I know. Be patient though, it'll be over before you know it," He doesn't scoff audibly, but the look he shoots my way is enough. "You better make a kick ass yearbook," He says after a few seconds of moody silence. I grin. "Prepare yourself to be dazzled," "I will," He says, more cheerfully. "Anyway, don't work too hard, and see you soon," I lean in and then shut my eyes, sucking in a breath and taking a step back. "We suck at this, don't we?" He nods. "And that's just how I like it. Check ya later," Before either of us can lose our resolve, we walk off in different directions down the halls. My time in the yearbook room is - much to my surprise - mercifully short, and I'm leaving the school by quarter after six. School ends at 3:30, just so ya know. Celery greets me excitedly at the door and I have to be careful not to compare his exuberance to that of a dog. Anyway, if I did, we'd be two dogs together. "Hey," I say, kissing him. Trying to be all cool, even though I'm like exploding over the excitement of being able to do it again. "Hey," He says, doing the same thing. We grin at each other and let our mouths and hands do the rest. Dinners fine, though Kyle's still visibly steaming over what happened to Celery. I find his mood is catching now that I'm not so scared for him anymore. Sometimes when I look over at him my fists will clench involuntarily and my jaw starts to grind. Celery's caught me at it a few times, and when he does he always smiles sweetly and gives some part of me a squeeze (we're talking hands and knees here people, banish your gutter thoughts!). I wait until we're curled up for Buffy to ask, "Want to stay over again?" "I don't know. I should probably go back to the house at some point. They may want to know whether I'm alive or not. You know, so they can start the public grieving and the private celebration if I'm not." "Yes, but if you were dead you wouldn't be attending classes in which case the school would call Them," "You make a valid point," Celery says holding up a finger and wagging it around. "So you're staying?" He smiles. I'm almost totally used to the wonkiness now. "I'm staying." Mom and dad don't comment on the double dose of Celery, but when we're getting undressed in my room later that night Celery asks, "Do you think we're ever going to get the talk?" "What talk?" I ask, my voice muffled by the fact that my head's stuck in my T-shirt. "You know. The now-that-you're-romantically-involved-we're-not-sure-it's-appropriate-for-you-to-be-spending-all-these-nights-together talk," I pop my head out and raise my eyebrows at him, tilting my head to the side. "From MY parents?" You remember, they're the insane in the good way ones. He rolls his eyes with a 'yeah, okay' smile. "I guess not." "Don't worry about it. When it comes to you this houses motto is 'we never close.' What about Them? Are They giving you any trouble about it?" He raises just the one eyebrow and almost sneers. "As if they care. Actually, if I went out and had a lot of unprotected sex, got AIDS and died They'd love me forever. Can you imagine how much sympathy Debbie could get for pretending to care for me in my final days? A dead child? Come on. What could be better," "If you're an evil bastard that is," I say, taking him protectively into my arms, eager as I always am to comfort him and cheer him up when he gets down about Them. I can't bear to see him slipping into bitterness and anger, even if it's only for a minute. "Of course," He says, holding me back. I've occasionally wondered how Celery turned out so great. Like, forgetting about the abysmal lack of maternal nurture, some of your personality comes from your genes right? So how did a kid with a physco mom and a dead-beat dad end up being one of the sweetest people on the planet? It's one of life's great mysteries, no doubt about that. Mrs. Bartin nabs me before I've even got both feet in the door at school the next morning and I barely have time to look apologetically over my shoulder at Celery as she's hauling me away. You see, technically, I'm only the junior editor, but the co-editors are total slackers, and thus, yours truly got saddled with most of the work. Screwed over is more like it actually. In addition to my workload as junior editor, I have to pull a lot of their weight too. Plus for some reason Mrs. Bartin's conscripted me to be her 'right-hand-man', which basically means I have to do all the work that's expected of junior editor (plus those slacker seniors) AND get on everyone else's case do to theirs. What's that? You can really hear the passion in my voice when I talk about yearbook? You totally understand why I'm shafting my best friend and boyfriend to work on it? Thanks for the support. Okay, I know I complain and bitch, but I feel I'm entitled. I do love it, believe me, I have to, or I'd have walked by now. Really, whining is part of the fun. Missing Cel isn't though. By lunch, when I see him for only about 10 minutes while I'm wolfing some unknown food down my throat, he's in full puppy-dog mode. Strangely enough, it's Jonas who goes out of his way to distract and cheer him up. I sneak away after an affectionate knock on the beak of his hat, and head back to the grind. The insanity kicks in from there. I'm so busy in fact, I barely have time to notice and feel guilty about it. I usually save that for when I'm trying to cram in a few precious hours of sleep or when I catch him staring at me longingly during one of our classes. It's all pretty terrible, but on the bright side, not being around him very much makes it easier not to kiss him. Less opportunities and all. Not that we don't make up for it whenever we do have a second or two alone. I know this all sort of makes him sound like the biggest asshole in the world, but the thing is, he doesn't even really know he's doing it. All the puppy-dog stuff. He doesn't bitch at me, or try to distract me from doing my work and he does his best to keep his distance entirely because he understands how important to me yearbook is and wants to be supportive of that. That said, he still can't help the looks and big puppy eyes. It's not an intentional thing, he's not TRYING to make me feel guilty. Anyway, I probably look the same in November at the end of Volleyball with Zones and Provincials and everything. I finagle my way into an hour of free time Friday night to eat some home-cooked goodness and hopefully snag a few minutes with Celery. My house is already in view when I remember about Cherrie and Meghan. With all the yearbook craziness, they almost totally slipped my mind. I've been trying to act more friendly to them, and we've been sticking to the no touching rule, but other than that, there really wasn't any room for them in my brain. And Celery never mentioned it either. I'm not sure if it makes him sweet or sneaky, but knowing him, I'm sure his motives were of the sweet and selfless variety. Like I hoped he would be, Celery's in the living room talking with Kyle. Okay, so I didn't really hope for the Kyle part necessarily so much as the him in the living room part, but I have no objection to the Kyle-ness. He looks up at me, and smiles. "Hey," "Hey. Sorry about the date or whatever. It sort of slipped my mind." He shrugs. "I figured that. It's okay. We can do it later. You're too busy right now anyway." "Date?" Kyle inquires, looking amusingly bewildered. "Yeah, we're going to go on a fake help-us-be-straight date with the bitches." "Cherrie and Meghan?" "Yeah," "Why?" "Because they harass us all the time and cause they were the ones who got those assholes to jump Celery," I can just tell Kyle's inwardly ordering himself to breathe. "A pair of spurned chicks are responsible for this?" "Well you know, hell hath no fury," "So why are you dating them and not cutting their hearts out with spoons?" Robin Hood. "Because this isn't as messy. What we're going to do is tell them we're gay but we don't want to be, and we're going to ask them to help like cure us," Celery explains. "Are they actually vain enough to think they can covert you?" I scoff. "And how." "So you go out with them, then what?" "Um," "Er," "What do you hope to achieve?" "Well, they leave us alone, no more trying to get other people not to do the same. We're hoping they'll be like bored or even repulsed after experiencing us in date-like situations, resulting in their dropping us. So, you know, pretty much the same thing that would happen if they were going on real dates with us. It's just like a challenge thing with them, there aren't any real feelings involved. We're a prize, to be won and discarded. Notches on their mascara pencils or something of that nature." He shakes his head. "Proceed with caution little bros, those chicks sound like pieces of work." "They can kiss our gay asses. We're smarter than them." "Yeah, but you're not eviller." "Stop being such an Eeyore Kyle," "Okay." "Well that's enough chit-chat. There's food to be eaten and it's time that I ate it." I declare with sweep of my arm. Just for fun with the sweep of the arm. Having fun being something I generally like to do. Celery joins me in the kitchen, but I must admit, I'm not finding anything I see in here nearly as tempting as his lips. "How long do you have?" "Supposed to be an hour, but I could stay longer," I say, eye devourment abounds. "No," Spurned! "No?" "If you blow it off now Mrs. Bartin will just come back even more physco. I'd rather take some of my Carrots now and some of it tomorrow then all now and none later, resulting in a very sad tomorrow, for only a few extra minutes now," "Rationing me are you?" He smiles. "Something like that," I close the cubbord door, and do the same with the gap between us. "I love you," "So kiss me." No need to tell me twice. You would not believe how fast it's possible for an hour to go. I mean, really. Did they change the length of minutes to the former seconds and just not tell me? "You know," I say mid kiss. "What?" Breathless, into my mouth. "A thought occurs. Tomorrow is Saturday," Our lips come apart for more than 30 seconds for the first time since we started this as Celery stares at me, jaw hanging open. "You're right, which means-" "Which means who cares if I blow tonight off, I don't have to do yearbook again until Monday!" Celery bites the inside of his cheek. "Maybe. Won't you have to go in Sunday afternoon?" "Possibly, but still." "But still nothing. Go back and make a great yearbook. You'll be finished for the night bout 12, right?" "Yeah," I say morosely. "So I'll wait up. When you get back we can talk and make out and get very little sleep. Then we'll have ALL Saturday together, and hopefully most of Sunday. I don't want to risk pissing her off and somehow lose our weekend. Okay?" "No, but I'll take it." I kiss him. "Thanks for being so great about all this by the way," He shrugs. "Don't mention it." "What are you going to do until 12 anyway?" "I might skate a little, hang out with Kyle," "With KYLE? I don't want you falling asleep!" "I heard that!" Kyle yells from the living room. "I wanted you to!" I yell back. Celery shakes his head. "You're going to be late," I start up a healthy good bye kiss. "12," He says finally as I try to extend the kiss. "12," I say stopping. He follows me out to the front hall and just before I leave I turn and look at him sternly, "Be careful," I command. "Careful?" He says, mock innocent. I frown. "If you're really going to go skating so soon after, um, getting hurt, don't push yourself too hard okay? We don't need you getting more beat up," "I'll like try and everything, but..." "I know, I know. The beast. Keep it in semi-in check at least? No rails," "Alright. That I can do. Or, I think I can anyway." I sigh. I believe I've mentioned that when he skates Celery gets quite reckless? Quite probably isn't exactly the right word. More like, extremely. He gets all caught up in it and looses himself, no longer thinking rationally. That's part of the reason I like to go with him, just to make sure he doesn't kill himself. "See you in a few hours," I say, needing to leave, wanting to do nothing less. "The hours will positively fly by, I promise," "Not for you," I kid. "If you're going to be spending them with Kyle," as before, I raise my voice so it'll carry over to the living room. "You're dead little brother!" Kyle shouts over cheerfully. "Go," Celery says, pushing me out the door, preventing the continuation of any fun I might have been able to have with Kyle. The spoilsport. Hey! Less of a spoilsport, he's following me out! "What's up?" I say with a smile. "I love you," He's all hoarse. "I love you too, what's the matter?" "Nothing, I just wanted to say it, once more before you go." We hug deep. "Hours positively flying remember?" He nods. "Yep. Don't work too hard," I grin. "I guarantee it." We steal one final kiss, and I head off down the street. While I'm just walking over here, have I mentioned that Celery is a world class hugger? Cause if I haven't it's a big bad on me. No one hugs better in my opinion. So what if it's an extremely biased opinion, I'm still right. What I like best is where he puts his hands. When most people hug they just sort of put their arms around your back and squeeze. Celery always wraps one arm tight around my waist and puts the other hand on the base of my neck. I'm sure this isn't a completely new and groundbreaking technique of hugging, but the true uniqueness, the wonderfulness, comes from Celery's arms. He always judges perfectly the degree of squeeze required for each particular hug worthy situation. And he never lets go too soon or holds on too long. Even since when we were little kids, he's always been great at it. He's always hugged me the same, that intimate way with the arm on the neck. Taking that into account, I'm sure it's not that he's still hugging me in a friendly way, it's that he's always hugged me in an intimate way, like someone he loved, deeply. His hug's protective and loving at the same time. It's, 'I'll protect you from anything - don't be afraid' and 'I love you' wrapped up in two strong arms. Adding to the perfectness is that we've always been the exact right height for such a variety of hugging. Maybe that's even part of how it started. But stupid me for not realizing the depth of what he conveys in his hugs sooner. I'm just glad I've picked up on it now, lucky and glad. I slip into the yearbook room, glancing around nervously, but see no sign of Mrs. Bartin. "You're late dude," Jem lets me know with a grin. Jem's a friend. I haven't mentioned him, I know, but that's the case with lots of my friends. School friends you know. It's kind of a crappy thing to say and feel, but they're all sort of transitory. Celery's a constant at the forefront of my mind, then my family. Jonas, Brian and Alex are nearly in focus, and then the others are sort of there in a pretty blurred way. When I'm around them they have my attention, but not really otherwise. I don't do it intentionally, it just happens. "Late and busted?" He shakes his head. "Actually no, Bartin's in the lab with Flo, and that's been for like half an hour." "Cover?" He frowns. "Course dude." Almost like he's insulted I asked. "Where were you anyway?" Jordyn, another friend I haven't mentioned, asks, popping up from behind the computer. I didn't see her cause the table with the computer is totally covered in papers like a meter high. Plus I'm just not very observant if it doesn't involve you know who. Unless there's a bunch of people hiding behind the filing cabinets, her and Jem are the only other ones here. No sign of those fucking senior slackers. Figures. "Safe money's on sucking face with his boyfriend," Jem says playfully. "So what if I was?" I say, grinning back at him. He's cool with the gay thing and so is Jordyn, I told you I made sure not to make friends with the kind of people who wouldn't be. Even casual friends like Jem and Jordyn. "So nothing," Jordyn says. She's a little more serious, and sometimes doesn't get that I get Jem's kidding around. She's cool though, and a good worker on yearbook. Almost freakish dedication. She reminds me of me, expect less whining, and less fooling around. "What are we doing?" I ask, getting down to business. "Jem and I were planning the page layout for the farewell to leaving..." And on goes the night. All yearbook and no Celery makes Carrots a cranky boy. But okay, I admit it, when I'm doing it, I lose myself in the work. I never totally stop feeling the missing of him, but the crazed work oriented part of my brain manages to claim some major ground. Not to say I'm not out of the school like a bat out of hell at the first possible second. No question, this is harder than every year before, and I don't think it has much of anything to do with the fact that I'm expected to do more work. Celery meets me with a kiss at the door and the only change in that trend is the intensification of the kisses. By the time we reach my bed we're both pretty heated up. We really go at it for a dozen or so minutes before Celery rips his lips from mine long enough to say, 'we should stop' before he starts kissing me all over again. "Yeah," I say in a gasp, separating us again, lying on my elbows breathing hard. I'm sure he's right - what I'm less sure of is WHY. We're just not there yet I guess. But if Celery's feeling half what I am - and I get the distinct impression that he is - that's not going to be the case for long.