Patrick & dylan

Chapter 5

I had to get a job. I had to get a fucking job! My mom got a job at a clinic that paid next to nothing. The worst part was that I hadn't gotten to spend any time alone with Dylan.

I had officially turned down dates with him 17 times. They always needed me at the movie theater and that was good I guess because I was making money, but I hated not being with him.

It was eight at night on a Friday and I was working the concession stand. I was salting the popcorn when I saw Dylan come into the theater. He wasn't alone.

They kissed. Not like when we kissed, he barely touched their lips. He purchased two tickets and they made their way to my post. He had his arm on their shoulder. I hit the floor so fast that if anyone was looking at me I would have looked insane.

"Patrick?" 1. The fucking concession stand was made of glass. That means it was clear. 2. I'm almost positive he could see over the top.

"Yep, just dropped some...some change." I stood up quickly. "Can I, uh...get you two anything?"

"Um, I want some...thing.....sweet!" Well, you were standing right next to something sweet.

"Okay," said Dylan.

"I'll take the M&M's." I grabbed the stupid chocolates and set them on the counter.

"Anything else?" I asked, staring right at Dylan.

"I'll take the #16 combo." That was the biggest combo on the menu.

"Drink?"

"Cola, " he said. I grabbed the hot dog, nachos, small popcorn, and his drink.

"$17.75" He handed me a twenty. I made the change.

"That's so much food baby." The way they said that made me cringe. "You already have quite the belly." He blushed.

"I guess you're right." I handed him his change and pushed their order closer towards the edge of the counter.

"Thank you." I walked away and went on break. I actually cried in the bathroom. How pathetic.

She was so pretty. She was taller than me. She had brown hair. She had doe-like chocolate, brown eyes. She was very shapely. She had a cute laugh. She was a girl.

I still had to sit behind him. I took my seat and kept my mouth shut. I guess our little relationship was over. He didn't talk to me either. I guess Friday night was enough explanation.

When I was seven years old, Ryan Peterson locked me in a closet at his eighth birthday party. I wasn't scared at first. Then he told me I would die because of an evil, dead, little girl who loved to kill "little pussies like you Patty" when you’re in an enclosed space together. Now, of course, I know that was a load of bull, but I have panic attacks whenever I feel claustrophobic.

Ryan Peterson would be cute if he didn't have such bad skin and crooked teeth. I’m not saying if someone looked like that, they're ugly. It was just that I was a bit biased because I hated him so much.

I got a message after school that said to meet Dylan in the old art room. It was from his phone. I grabbed my books and went off to find him. "Dylan, I have to get to work." He wasn't here yet. I went back into the hall and dashed back inside. Ryan was right there and I knew he was pissed he couldn't get to me a few weeks ago. The art room door opened.

"Pussy Pat, what's up?"

"Ryan. Go away."

"Aw, come on. Don't be like that buddy."

"You know we are NOT buddies." He walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. Oh hell! I was in the fucking closet before I realized he had picked me up. "Ryan, let me out of the fucking closet. Ryan!" He was laughing. "Please."

It started. I was trying not to think about the dead girl, but then that made me think about her. I could have sworn she touched me. It was so cold in that closet. My heart was beating too fast. I was sweating but I was so cold. "Please!" I had been trying the door knob for what seemed like hours. I felt my stomach tightening and started trembling. "Please!" I knew nobody could hear me in the old art department. I was going to DIE. I think he left. He left me locked in the closet. No one was going to save me. Oh god. Please! I couldn't even shout anymore, I couldn't talk. The light didn't even work.

"Hey! Are you okay?" I was out of the closet. I was alive.

"Dylan?"

"No, I'm Paris Helen."

"Chubby Paris?" I asked. Shit. Shit. Shit!

"Yeah, I guess that's me." I groaned out of embarrassment. "I am pretty chubby I guess." He smiled. "Better than Fat Paris." I had Physics and Calculus with him.

"I really am sorry."

"No problem." He laughed. "That Peterson sure is a bitch. I only hit him twice before he ran out of here holding his jaw."

"Oh god. Thank you." I could have kissed Chubby Paris. He was pretty hot too. Well, he "was" before he got a job as a pizza delivery boy. That was about a year and a half ago...and thirty pounds ago. He had blond hair and gorgeous, hazel eyes. He was about 6'2.

He had been on the baseball team. He was the catcher because he was always a beefy guy. He got cut after the first ten pounds. "Glad to help, Patrick."

I left with Paris that day. I didn't know why he was so nice to me. He never talked to me before, why would he now? Oh well, I could use a rebound guy. As if.

My mom got her job back! Mr. Rushworth said it was a mistake and even increased her pay. I could quit working at that damn theater! I had all the free time in the world…but nobody to spend it with.