I heard giggling.
Female giggling, to be exact. And let me tell you, there is nothing that will strike fear into the heart of a teenage boy more then female giggling. Especially when the source is unknown.
It wasn't Rachel, that was for sure. For one thing, she isn't a giggler. But the main reason was I knew exactly where she was-upstairs where Mary Campbell was trying to fix her up before Old Lady Campbell saw her.
So it had to be Campbell girls.
I'm not stupid. I knew the gigglers had to be Rebecca and the oldest blonde girl, Bunny or Muffy or something. And I knew what they were giggling at. What else could it be with a male specimen as gorgeous as myself sitting alone on their couch-the couch that could also double as a quite comfy bed, when necessary.
I sighed. Now don't get me wrong. Ordinarily, I'd be thrilled. Ecstatic. Rubbing it in Rachel's pretty face until she came back with a comment about how in our time, Rebecca was nothing more then bones in a grave. Like I hadn't already thought about that.
But no, the thing keeping me from the profound joy I SHOULD have been feeling was, naturally, Rachel.
I think, just maybe, she enjoys torturing me.
But the point was, she was still my friend. I think. And she had been through an experience that blew my mind--or what's left of it--away. Anything that could make Rachel, Xena: Warrior Princess, cry like that would probably have a normal person in serious therapy. Of course, "Animorph" is a synonym for "abnormal".
"Tee-hee."
The damn giggling just wasn't going to stop.
I sighed again. Sometimes it's exhausting to be this irresistible.
I got up off the couch and make my way to where I thought the noise was coming, just outside the living room/parlor. I was pretty sure Rebecca and her sister were spying on me. Sure enough, they were there, pretending to act surprised when I walked up to them.
"Now which of you lovely ladies has been watching me?"
Buffy/Honey opened her mouth to speak, but Rebecca cut her off. "I think Jenny is too young to appreciate..." she looked me up and down coyly. "Men. So by process of elimination that leaves..." Hmm. Definitely a girl who knew what she wanted. I could get to like this. Also the blonde's name was Jenny. Who knew?
Rachel had told me Mary was really sweet but the blonde-Jenny!-was quiet and snobbish, and Rebecca, basically, a bitch. But then, Rachel isn't exactly known for her sweet disposition, either. And besides, maybe I could get bitchy girls out of my system once and for all. It was a nice thought, at least.
I draped my arm across Rebecca's shoulder and steered her towards the door leading outside. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine."
* * *
Rebecca was pretty, there was no denying that, but it was in an unusual way. Well, unusual compared to the girls I knew. She was average height, and thin, but not anorexic-thin. From what I could see of her hair, hidden as it was under her bonnet, I was reasonably sure it was very dark brown. Her facial features were very delicate and girly, her skin pale white, but creamy looking. Milk-white, I guess they call it. Her eyes were large and dark and her lips a perfect, natural red. This was a girl that with the right clothes and haircut could rival Rachel herself.
And I could talk to her, too. Oh, I had to cut down on the humor. I realized that when I compared Rachel to Angelica Pickles, grown up and on PMS. Talk about the wrong generation (something my parents always used to say when they made some joke about when they where kids and I didn't get it. Now I understood how they felt). But it was still a nice change to be able to talk to a pretty girl and not be threatened by castration or worse (only Rachel could think up a threat worse then castration).
But there was something missing. You know that funny feeling of your blood pumping just a little too fast, and your breathing coming a little too heavy and noticeable, the feeling that you get when you're around someone you really like? That wasn't there. Talking to Rebecca, well, I might as well have been talking to Cassie. Only Rebecca didn't preach. And I was pretty sure she was about as fond of Rachel as Rachel was of her.
But I still liked talking to her. And I even liked when she flirted with me. Even if I didn't feel the same way, it was still nice to feel wanted by someone. I mean, come on. There was a bad boys-to-girls ratio of Animorphs, and let's face it, the girls at school weren't exactly falling all over me, either, probably because I wasn't even close to being a jock.
The fact that I was passed up for a bird didn't help my confidence any.
So when Rebecca leaned in to kiss me, I only hesitated for a moment. I knew it was stupid to keep wanting someone that would never feel the way about me that I felt about them.
* * *
"Damn it. Do they have cigarettes here? I want a cigarette."
I looked up at Rachel from the book I was trying to read. I'd been bored listening to her rant when I should have been sleeping and grabbed it off a shelf, only to be greeted with a lot of "thee's" and "thou's". If there was a plot, I had yet to discover it. "You don't smoke."
"How would you know?"
"How could I not know? My social life consists of five people, two of whom aren't even human. I could recite every single one of their likes, dislikes, pet peeves, and crushes in chronological order. That includes you."
Rachel stopped pacing across the Campbell's living room. From what I had heard earlier, Mrs. Campbell had tried to make her sew. It had not been pretty. "Yeah, well, sometimes people do things you wouldn't expect. Like make out with girls that could very possibly be their ancestors."
"You were spying one me?!" I exclaimed, not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.
"Of course not." Rachel looked at me like I was crazy, "What the hell was I supposed to think, the Goddamned rooster gave her that hickey?"
"Oops." I said guiltily. "Well, you would know better then me if birds can give hickeys."
Rachel threw a book at me. And not playfully, she was actually trying to nail me in the face with it. Hard. That girl has some arm. I just barely ducked in time. As the book hit the floor with a thud, I happened to notice what it was.
The Bible.
"You never think about anyone but yourself." Rachel muttered as she turned around and stomped upstairs to go to bed. "You could get us thrown out if Campbell finds out you're necking her daughter. That is, if they even know what necking is."
As she disappeared from my line of vision, I wanted to yell after her, tell her she was wrong, I didn't just think about myself.
In fact, for the last few months or so, she was all I ever thought about.
