The Girl That Brings The Storm
I open the door. Elena breezes by without even saying a word to me. A delicate and manicured hand flies out and slams the door shut, but not before I see that someone has put a red carpet on the steps.Hmm, Hermann is usually never that literal.
I follow a scrambling sound to the kitchen. I find Elena sitting on the marble-counter, eating icecream directly from a bucket. Her turqoise eyes are puffy and her mascara has started to flow like lava. Her thick blond hair, which she normally braids, is loose and stringy. She is wearing jeans and a jacket- her version of casual wear.
Yeah something is definitely wrong.
“What happened?” Elena snivels. “She cheated on me. The fucking bitch cheated on me.” Oh. Elena isn’t gay, nor is she even bisexual. I’d like to think of her as omnisexual. She’s a believer in equal opportunity when it comes to relationships, and there are always opportunities for someone as pretty as her.
I wave her on.
She grabs a knife from a stall. “I will freaking cut her. I was walking home from the gym, and as I entered the Great House I heard this noise from one of the back rooms. You know, the one with the jacuzzi and the patio?”
I nod. “So I follow the sound and…” She stops. Clutches the knife harder, until I can make out her tendons which stands in stark relief. “I follow the sound and I find her going down on some stupid goth-chick.” I try to keep the wince imperceptible, but I don’t think I quite manage it. “And what happened then?” Elena sobs silently, but she seems to regain some of her old wit with her next response. “I made several comments about Lina’s parentage. I think I linked it to that of a female dog.” I smile at her. I walk towards the counter, I carefully remove the very sharp knife from her hand (I accidentally introduced Hermann to Iron Chef and since then he has been buying them in stock from Japan) and I put it back in the stall.
I am going to need an extra special touch in order to fix this– I can’t remember the last time I saw her this upset. The inspiration comes to me, like lightning from the sky.
“I think you don’t need to cut her, seeing as you left some really-” I hold up my hands in the universal stop motion, I run out of the kitchen, down to the lower plane, I search for some glases,I find them in the bureau, I run up to the kitchen and put them on in a smooth move – ” cutting remarks”.
Elena looks at me, incredulous, for about ten seconds, before she starts to laugh. A big pearly laugh that rolls and undulates.
“Thanks Runey, I needed that. I really needed that.”
She closes her eyes in contemplation. She opens them suddenly and looks at me with a predatory look. “So.. why didn’t you answer my calls? Or my messages?” She inspects me; my bed-hair, the shadows beneath my eyes, my sallow skin. ” And why do you look like something the cat dragged in?”
I tell her everything that transpired yesterday. About Nidar Greyscale. The mead. The cry-my-heart-out moment. “… and then I woke up and vomited my guts out.” “Ah, I remember my first time. Seriously though, never drink Jägermeister on an empty stomach.” She looks through the window, not really seeing anything anymore. ” It’s good that you’ve finally talked to someone about the-” she makes air quotes-” Accident.”
“What do you mean? I have talked to people. The shrinks-” “Oh please don’t feed me that crap, Rune. We both know that you did your exercises, took the medicine but your heart was never in it. And you’re good enough at obfuscating the truth.”
“Obfuscating. That’s a pretty big word.” “Doesn’t make it any less true.”
I am about to deny it when I consider what Elena has said a moment. She does have a point. A small point. And I do feel… I guess I feel oddly refreshed having talked about it, hangover notwithstanding.
She switches the subject in a not so subtle way. “So, school in six days. Ready to start three years of suffering?” I can’t help groaning. “Fuck, Hermann has already reminded me.” “Oh, but it’s going to be so fun Runey! The hazing! The sex! The smell of boys who shower in deoderant!”
I glare at her. “Alright, it’s going to be… interesting, as you usually say. But we’ll make it through together, right?”
“Riiiiight.” She switches topic again. “So have you met any pretty girls lately?” She continues on the same topic, to my everlasting mortification. I start to squirm.Must she always be so embarassing? “And I mean real, physical girls. I know about the ones you write to via email- and while I think that’s really cute, you need to to meet the flesh and blood-kind.” I squirm, if possible, even more. “Well… you know about my condition… and my eye… and I am just no good when it comes to girls.”
Elena holds up three fingers. “1; Rune, you’ve got Aspergers- that means you have a problem interpreting social signals- you’re not exactly an ugly ogre hiding in a swamp.” That’s easy for you to say. And Aspergers is more than being unable to interprete socials signals dammit. “2; the eye is exotic. Girls dig exotic, and I would know, being one.”
“You’re holding up three fingers but you’ve only mentioned two things.”
“Yeah… now where was I…” “Ah. Yeah. 3; If you don’t practice how will you ever get any good at something?” “Great. Do you know of a place with alot of girls, where I can practice?” Sarcasm drips from every syllable in my sentence.
Elena puts one hand beneath her jaw, in a classical- I-am-a-deep-philosopher pose. “Actually I do.” She removes a small paper note from a pocket and hands me it.
I unfold it and read. It’s a list of names. Fifteen to be precise. Twelve girls, counting Elena, three boys, counting me. “What’s this?” “That is the rooster for the class we will be in for the coming three years.” “How…?”
“You ask how. Rune, there is nothing in this world that can’t be achieved through the power of money, an old famous name, and tits.”
She puts one arm around my neck. “You asked about a place where there are alot of girls. In a word? School.” She says the last word in a smug tone. Damn, checkmate.
She leads me downstairs to my room, where she starts my computer.
“Now, we need to start discussing one of the season’s greatest social events.” “Which one would that be?” “Why- the Bonfire Ball.” “That’s in October! Geez, there are over two months left!”
She ignores me.”… anyhow, I was thinking of going as a slutty Elsa. Now you got that whole eye-thing going on for you, so I thought that you could either dress up as Anthony Hopkins in Thor, or as Jack Sparrow….”