Chapter 12: Keeping Secrets

Well...hey. Long story short: homework eats brains (lyk zombehs), I'm way too paranoid about grades, and I hate school (or just HW).

And those are my only excuses! The last time I updated was literally the day before school started, and I've been drowning in it ever since. But thank you for waiting!!!! Your comments were the highlight of my every day :) Seriously. Thanks. Nownomorewaiting,pleaseenjoy

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BEEP.BEEP.BEEP.BEE- I yanked the plug of my alarm out of the wall and settled back into bed. Why the hell did I even leave the thing on? It was Sunday… or was it Saturday? It could even be Monday. I decided not to linger on these thoughts and go back to sleep.

Just as I was drifting into a random dream about hedgehogs, I heard my phone buzzing. I groaned in complaint and threw my pillow over my head.

The damned phone kept on buzzing insistently. “Auuugh.” I groaned, sitting up in bed and snatching the phone angrily from the nightstand. Of course; Astly had texted me to wake up a million times. I looked to the newest text.

Private Number:  “Rise and shine Pumpkin! School is starting again!”

“What?” I asked. “No…It Saturday.” I said sleepily.

Private Number: “No, it Monday.”

I stared at his previous text foggily. “What’s a pump-kin? The child of a pump?” I asked, squinting my eyes sleepily at the word (I mean, pumpkin is a weird word). “I’m not a child of a pump.” I murmured.

Private Number: “Shit, ur so cute. But u need to wake up.”

I rubbed my eyes and stretched out my arms. “Ouch!” I clutched lightly at my, now more damaged than ever, arm. I had strained the muscle accidently with my stretch. “Shit.”

Private Number: “Are you okay????”

“No, I feel like road kill.” I answered, detecting all of the aches and pains in my body from being frequently battered.

Private Number: “Is everything wrapped up properly? Maybe you should get a sling for that arm. Show it to me.”

I held out my arm carefully for him to look at; he was about the closest thing I had to a doctor at the moment.

Private Number: “Fuck. This pisses me off. Those damned handprints of the fucking Girlfriend-Killer and that fucking Would-Be-Murdered Punk are all over my babe’s skin.”

“What the hell should I do with this arm?” I asked in annoyance to get him back on topic.

Private Number: “Do you have a sling anywhere in the house?”

I frowned. “No. Is it normal to have a sling in your house?” The most significant piece of medical equipment i had in my house was a first aid kit.

Private Number: “ lol I guess not. Well, I guess what you should do is just be careful with your arm or something; don’t hit anything, carry anything heavy, or move it around too much.”

“Thank you Dr. Astly, I was planning on lifting bowling balls and smacking people with them before you told me this worthwhile information.” I laughed sarcastically.

Private Number: “You can still do that with ur other arm, don’t worry. Especially if Las Vegas is on ur list of people to smack with bowling balls.”

“Sure. I’ll make sure to slap him with my bowling balls.” I said without thinking. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. “And before you go psychotic; you’re the one who brought up Las Vegas and balls in one sentence.” I added quickly.

Private Number: “Sooo, if I brought myself up and, say, putting my pickle in your bagel, what would you do? (Chilly peppers and doughnuts refers to het sex btw)”

“I would tell you to get your own bagel and to leave mine alone.” I said curtly, though I was glad Astly wasn’t mad about my stupid sexual innuendo.

Private Number: “But your bagel IS my bagel Jakey. Don’t u dare forget that. Ever.”

“No, my bagel is my bagel.” I said stubbornly, frowning.

Private Number: “Can we just agree that u won’t share with anyone else?”

I opened my mouth to say ‘that’s for me to decide’, but thought better of it and kept my mouth shut. “Whatever.” I grumbled.

Private Number: “lol, it’s so cute when u show self restraint, (but don’t make me feel like you’re hiding anything from me… That wouldn’t end well for anyone). Now, let’s stop arguing about ‘food’ and get to school. U r going to be late.”

I looked at the clock; crap, he was right! I really needed to go! I got up to go to my closet. I quickly grabbed some underwear, jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt and walked to the bathroom.

I threw on my clothes as quickly as I could with one hand, and ran out of the bathroom without checking myself in the mirror. I had no time to fix myself up! I ran downstairs to grab my bag, rushing to my room to grab my phone before I did, and flew out the door.

I felt my phone buzz as I speed-walked to school. Ugh, what did he want now?

Private Number: “Lovely, I thought that u just might like to know that u r wearing your shirt inside out (it also doesn’t hide the bandage on your neck).”

I looked down to see that my shirt was indeed, very clearly, inside out. “Auugh.” I paced a bit on the empty sidewalk, wondering what I should do; I couldn’t just go to school like this, but I didn’t’ have time to turn around to go back home either. “Oh screw it!” I yelled, dropping my bag and throwing off my shirt.

“Well, this is something you don’t see every day!” An amused voice said from behind me.

I flinched in surprise and turned around apprehensively. “Oh, fuck!” I yelled out loud in anxiety.

“Rude!” Las Vegas said with a mock frown. He started looking me up and down.

“Who’s being rude now!?” I yelled, trying to cover myself up with my shirt.

“You’re the one stripping in public!” He said in defense.

“You’re the one checking me out in public!” I countered, getting flustered.

“Well, when a stripper takes off their clothes, who’s not gonna look? it would be insulting to their profession to not look.” Las Vegas said with a smile.

“But I’m not a stripper!” I shouted.

“But you are stripping.” He grinned.

“Not for you! My shirt was inside out!”

“So you’re fixing in in public?” He snorted.

“I was in a hurry.” I muttered, averting my eyes. “And speaking of hurry, we seriously need to get to school.” I said urgently. If I had one more absence in P.E., that dick of a teacher was going to make me do four hours of trash duty.

“If we run we can make it so that we’ll only get marked a tardy and not absent.” Las Vegas said, checking his watch.

I finished putting on my shirt when his wasn’t looking. “Alright then, let’s go.” I said, starting to jog.

Las Vegas pulled besides me, a look of concern on his face. It seriously didn’t suit him, what with his playboy-like appearance and attitude.

“What?” I asked.

“How did you get those bruises?” He asked, glancing down at my arm.

Shit! I should have thought of an excuse ahead of time in case anyone asked this question! I couldn’t just tell the truth! ‘oh, my psycho stalker’s enemy, who’s also a psycho, kidnapped me and went all knife-happy, and before that I was attacked by a bat-shit crazy jock!’

“I was…mugged!” I blurted out.

Las Vegas looked at me in interest. “Whoa! No way, how much did you lose?”

I frowned at him. “Uh, fifty bucks; not that that even matter. I care more about the cut on my damn neck and the painful ass bruises on my arm.”

Las Vegas laughed. “Sorry, sorry. Being mugged wasn’t too uncommon where I come from. When my friends got mugged they’d bitch about how much they'd lost instead of their bruises.” He ruffled my hair roughly with his palm. “I should have known that you wouldn’t give a shit about money.”

“Didn’t you see that my hair was bad enough?” I whined, trying to re-smooth my hair while I ran. “Why’d you have to make it worse?”

“Because I wanna make you miserable.” Las Vegas sneered jokingly.

“Sorry Las Vegas, but you’ll never make me as miserable as school.” I said though pants as we ran through the front gates.

“I thought I was Mr. Las Vegas.” Las Vegas said, referring to the time I called him that in the locker rooms.

“You don’t look like a Mister.”

“So I’ve been demoted to just plain Las Vegas? Well then, it’s only fair that you get a nickname too…Jay Jay!” Las Vegas beamed proudly.

His smiles were infectious; I found myself smiling too. “Isn’t that already the name of a jet plane?” I laughed.

“I’m sure you can apply it to more than one person… or plane.”

“BOYS! Where the hell were you!?” The P.E. teacher screamed at us as we neared the gym and track area.

“Why would you care!?” Las Vegas yelled back.

“Get your lazy butts changed and get out here, I’m marking you each two tardies!” He bellowed.

“You can’t give us two!” I yelled in protest across the field.

“I sure as all heck can! Now get changed!” the teacher roared.

“What an asshole.” I muttered as Las Vegas and I entered the locker room.

“Just forget about it, shit like that doesn’t matter anyways.” Las Vegas said.

“To you.” I grouched, taking off my shirt to put on the P.E. uniform. It was pretty difficult to secret-change shirts with only one good arm. I then pulled the large sweatshirt over my butt and proceeded to changing into the P.E. pants.

“Jake?” Las Vegas called. He had stopped mid-change and was looking at my arm.

“Yeah?”

“I know you weren’t mugged.”

I froze. What did he mean? How the hell did he know?! Did he somehow know about the whole Spike thing? About everything?! “Uh, what do you mean?” I asked softly.

He smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry you moron; I don’t know about whatever happened. I’m just saying that I know a liar when I see one; I’m from Las Vegas, remember? Poker and all that shit makes me pretty sharp.” He gloated. “But seriously, when you saw that I noticed your injuries you got a really scared look in your eye... and just now too.”

“…What are you getting at?” I asked, trying to act nonchalant.

“What I’m getting at is this,” He put his hands on my shoulders gently. “If you ever want to tell me, I’ll listen, and also help you if you need me to.” He flexed one of his muscular-ass arms. “I’ll have your back with this fine piece of muscle; can’t have you trying to defend yourself with that crippled little thing.” He mocked, pointing to my injured arm. It wasn’t crippled! Or, at the very least, less crippled than Las Vegas’ intelligence!

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. The last guy on earth that I would have ever guessed to notice that there was something wrong with me was actually the first. “And all this time I thought that there was just muscle up there.” I said, poking his forehead.

“And I thought that there was just a big downer in there.” Las Vegas said, poking my head.

I chuckled. “Whatever. Maybe it’s a good idea to actually come out of the locker room before class ends.” I said, walking towards the door. A perplexed frown slid over my face once I was facing away from him.

It was really nice to know that Las Vegas was there for me… but it probably wasn’t for the best. Astly already wanted to kill the guy, hell, he even said that he would if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t know where Las Vegas lived.

Oh shit. I stopped dead in my tracks. Everything that happened that morning went on sudden replay. I probably broke a ton of unwritten Astly-Rules, and Las Vegas probably broke enough to be killed and thrown into a ditch.

“Am I really just noticing this now!?” I thought to myself. I looked over to Las Vegas, who was shirtless and absently putting his P.E. shirt into his locker along with his other clothes. Shit, the muscle-head wouldn’t last a second against Astly. Why the hell was this dumbass the only person to notice anything!? Now I had something else to add on my list of problems; one killer stalker, one fatally injured killer, and now an endangered muscle-head. I could need to add myself being kidnapped and a dead muscle-head to that list if I wasn’t careful…

“Jake, you look seriously awkward just standing over there.” Las Vegas said.

I casually looked over at the still shirtless Las Vegas. “Uuuh, are you putting on a shirt or not?” I asked. Okay, I really shouldn’t have been complaining about seeing scarily flawless abs, but I also couldn’t let him go out like that… or let Astly see him with me like that.

Las Vegas looked down at himself in confusion. “What the…?” He mumbled in confusion.

“You forgot to put on your shirt and stuffed it in your locker.” I said.

Las Vegas smiled. “Oh? Were you enjoying my perfect body too much to tell me that sooner?” He asked, grinning cockily.

“No…just get a damn shirt on.” I said, turning away from him. I would never admit that his body was perfect…damn.

Las Vegas had just finished putting on his shirt when the locker room doors opened and students came flooding in.

“You! Roy, Jake, in my office!” The P.E. teacher yelled at us, pointing to his room.

“Uh, we have to get to our other classes-” I started.

“NOW!”

“Okay.” I said softly.

Las Vegas and I filed into the P.E. teachers office and sat down on crappy little stools while the teacher sat down on his comfy-ass chair.

“What in heck took you so long?” He asked angrily. Anyone could tell that he would have used ‘hell’ if it weren’t for the school policies.

“He forgot to put on a shirt.” I said hurriedly. I didn’t want to be tardy for my text class; Ms. Shortwater, my English teacher, would probably just spend the whole class period lecturing me on common etiquette. But hell, it was better than this guy’s nonstop bitchiness.

“I’ve heard better excuses from my two year old granddaughter!” He yelled in fury. “What were you two actually doing?! Drugs? Fighting? Porno? Vandalism? Theft?” He questioned.

“Oh, we did all of that.” Las Vegas said sarcastically. “We also had an orgy, burned our homework, and became part of a gang.”

I tried motioning for him to stop before it was too late; the damn teacher hated it when anyone talked back to him.

“You think that’s funny?” The teacher asked, narrowing his eyes. “Detention for both of you smart-asses.” He shouted.

“Or, how about we not report you for swearing at students and you let us off?” I suggested.

The teacher’s eyes lit up with realization and fury. “Oh…fuck.” He spat out. He’d probably gotten reported by students before. He glared at the both of us like we were bugs he’d love to squish. “Get the hell out of here.” He grumbled.

“Yes sir.” I said, walking out the door with Las Vegas.

“Ha, nice one.” He said once we were back at our lockers.

“Thanks.” I said, rushing to open my locker. I didn’t have any time to change if I wanted to make it to class, so I just took my backpack. “See you later Las Vegas!” I said quickly, rushing to get out the door.

“Hey! You forgot to close your locker and left your phone in your back pocket!” He called from behind me, waving my phone in the air.

I hurried back to grab my phone from him. “Thanks!” I said in a panic, reaching to grab my phone.

“Wait a sec.” He muttered, avoiding me to look at my phone.

“Give me my phone back.” I said seriously while trying fruitlessly to get my phone out of his hands. Las Vegas already knew more than I knew Astly could handle.

Las Vegas frowned. “Who is this?”

I was finally able to yank my phone out of his hands. “Every heard of privacy?!” I yelled angrily. Ha, ironically, no one I'd been recently involved with ever seemed to consider my privacy. Astly’s constant stalking, Spike’s phone peeping, and now Las Vegas’s phone stealing. I glanced at my phone, and to my dismay, there were fresh texts in the new feed. “What did you read?” I asked tentatively.

“Something about LV, and you liking them…That’s me isn’t it?” Las Vegas asked frowning deeply.

Shitshitshit; what the hell now?! I fake laughed. “What? No way, LV stands for… Lorenzo…Vanilla. Yeah! Haven’t you ever heard of him?” I asked with a smiled pasted to my face.

Las Vegas looked at me doubtfully. “No, who is he?” He asked suspiciously.

“A really popular singer in…Swaziland! Yeah, I’m part…Swazi...so I know a lot about their culture.”

Las Vegas raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure Lorenzo isn’t a Swazi name. And that fake-ass smile wouldn’t fool a four year old.”

Crap, I needed a better act! “Sorry,” I said, trying to act better. “ It’s just that my obsession with Lorenzo Valerio is pretty embarrassing… promise not to tell anyone?” I asked.

Las Vegas frowned further. “Don’t you mean Lorenzo Vanilla?”

“No, I don’t. I think that I know my own obsession.” I said convincingly. “Seriously, aren’t you being a little paranoid?” I asked.

Las Vegas stared at me intensively for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Ugh, I fuckin' give. Sure, I’m being ‘paranoid’, and LV definitely refers to a Swazi singer who you’re obsessed with.” He bitterly picked up his bag and moved to go out the door.

Shit, he obviously didn’t believe me. What the hell was I supposed to do? “Crap, Las Vegas wait!” I said

“Yes?” He said, turning around.

“It’s Jerry. He’s a family friend, kind of like an older brother to me, and he doesn’t like you very much. He’s sort of protective over me, and I sort of told him about when we first met in the park.” I lied again. What? I wasn’t about to put his life in danger by telling him about Astly.

Las Vegas smiled. “Thanks for being truthful Jake. I’ll see you around ‘kay?”

I smiled. “Yeah, see you.” I said with a wave.

As soon as he left I whipped my phone out and went straight to Astly’s texts. Only part of my new impending problem was taken care of.

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Aw man, look at that, end of ch 12. Now you might have to wait another 2 months for the next chapter...NOT! :D

I could NEVER give you such a tiny amount of Astly after this long! Next chapter up in a few DAYS, hopefully tomorrow! not weeks, not months, DAYS :D

:( I'm really tring to make it up to everyone. And after I finished this chapter I thought: "too much Las Vegas, not enough Astly." So I'm bringing more Astly soon :)

Also, you're comments are amazing... just saying XD I usually squeal like a dying hog whenever I read them. also, here's to more reads than I could have ever imagined happening, let alone under a year. I don't really care too much about votes :3 though they are appreciated too.

Thanks again!