The Matchmaker

by Kitty Parker

  "You don't really want to," I explained as I turned so I could walk with Brock to his class, burying my own fury. He needed therapy, quickly.

  "Of course I do!" Brock exclaimed, "If I didn't, would I be so down?"

  "You're trying to replace Her."

  That stopped him in his tracks. I took a few more steps before I tuned back to look at him.

  'I am not trying to find another Rhianna," Brock stated flatly. "That's impossible," he added in a mutter to himself.

  "You loved her, so you want to find another love," I responded bluntly, hurrying him along. He couldn't afford another detention; his coach was in a bad mood already this week.

  "I don't need love!" he retorted angrily.

  "Good. Keep telling yourself that. So neither Jess nor Rhianna matter. Get to class." I shoved him into his classroom. He stumbled to his seat, at least slightly less in a funk then he had been before.

  I strode back to my locker, bad mood returning full force. Brock was getting mad because his love left? He should be fucking thanking God the he had love at all.

  I jerked my locker open and tossed my books in it. I was already storming away when a tentative voice stopped me.

  "Excuse me?" some kid looked up at me, obviously terrified.

  "What?" I snapped.

  'you-you-you dropped something," he stammered. I looked back. A glint of red was on the floor before my locker. I nodded curtly at the boy in thinks. He scurried away as I approached my locker once more.

  ON the ground was a faded rose, the same one I had put in the Matchmaker's locker yesterday. I new note was attached.

  You'll have to do better then a flower, McGavern.

  In spite of my horrible mood, I grinned.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Emma

  * * *

  As soon as school let out, I was off, dashing as quickly as humanly possible to my locker. I needed to get to work in 20 minutes, and it took even me about 15 minutes to get to the café. Jack had offered me a car, and I didn't really need to work now, but I hate being dependent on Jack. Which meant I ran to work, 4 days a week. Hey, at least its good exercise.

  Unfortunately for my hurrying plans, the halls were packed with students going the opposite way from me. Gotta love irony. I was shoved backwards until I finally managed to weave my way through. That's one of the many times I wish I had the height to actually be noticed. After an agonizingly long time, I managed to weed my way to my locker.

  I snatched a few books, hoping to God that they were the right ones, and slammed the door shut. The door bounced back open, the basket fixed to the top falling with the impact.

  "Damn!" I swore, leaning back down to quickly gather the scattered notes. Darien's handwriting caught my eye. I glanced at my watch, then back at the note. Cursing, I grabbed the note and stuffed into my pocket before hastening away, backpack bouncing as I threaded my way through the crowd.

  o0O0o0O0o

  "I know I'm late!" I panted as I skidded into the back room of the Black Dog Café, shrugging of my bags and pulling on my uniform apron.

  "It's okay," Cass, my co-worker, informed me, "Mr. Dictator hasn't stopped believing my bathroom story yet. You've only been in there, for, oh, about 10 minutes."

  'Thanks," I replied, pulling my long hair back into its customary ponytail, "Do I look halfway presentable?" I like to look sort of nice, sue me. I'm a girl, after all.

  "Yeah, about halfway."

  I made a face.

  "That's twice as much as you, dear!" I retorted, slipping out behind the counter.

  "Ems! You've arrived!" Mr. Dictator, as we'd fondly nicknamed him, gushed. We joke about him being evil and strict, but honestly, he's the nicest man I know.

  "Yeah, I'm sorry about the lateness. I was delayed," I replied contritely, taking his place at the register.

  "All that matters is you're here now, darling," he chirped, "Now, you take the counter and I'll go check the stores!"

  He wandered off. I composed my face into its usual painful grimace disguised as a smile. The people here are great, but the clientele leaves much to be desired. Can't they ever read the damn menu? Luckily, I had a few minutes before the after school rush and the influx of moronic, at least partly high, high school students.

  Darien's note crumpled in my pocket. If I took it out here, it could compromise my entire dual identity. The Matchmaker would be demolished. I would be ostracized.

  I drew the note from my pocket and smoothed it out onto the counter top. No one from school would be here for a few minutes anyway. The letter had the same handwriting, the same thick, heavy, obviously expensive notepaper.

  A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl, even though the rose fades in comparison

  I rolled my eyes. That was just overly clichéd, and I know clichés. It's part of the business. Did he really expect The Matchmaker, someone who deals in romance, and thus clichés, everyday, to be won over by a few unoriginal words? I guess I had overestimated him, and that would be extremely difficult. My estimation had been dangerously low. How idiotic could this boy be?

  I flipped the note over to scribble my response. This time, I didn't need to agonize over it. If he wasn't going to try to make this interesting, I certainly wasn't. I could very well ignore him and be none the worse. He was the one chasing The Matchmaker, not the other way around. I was only responding to humour him and to try to divine his motives. It's not like the Matchmaker was enjoying his attentions. It's not like I was-

  The bell heralding the entrance of a customer rang. I shoved the paper back into my pocket before looking up. When I did, I nearly groaned out loud.

  Darien McGavern had entered the café.

  Damn, I hate irony!

  * * *

  Darien

  * * *

  I slammed a 50 on the counter.

  "Large, black coffee," I demanded without looking at the person working the counter. A small, pale hand took the money silently and offered me the change.

  "5 minutes," she stated. The lack of respect here was the norm. It's why I come. This girl must be new, though. My usual person sounded older.

  I glanced up. A petite back was facing me, slight body competently mixing up the drink. God, what was it with me and seeing Emma Laycha lately? Do I live in a fucking romance novel?

  As I turned to go to hide in my usual nook, a glint of parchment coloured paper sticking out of her apron pocket caught my eye. It looked exactly like my own personalized note paper.

  "Where'd you get that?" I commanded, gesturing to the note. She carefully finished making my coffee before turning back to me.

  "I fail to see how that's any of your business."

  While I had to concede her point, at least to myself, I couldn't very well admit that to her.

  "I fail to see why I should care that you fail to see how it's my business." I winced as that came out of my mouth. She only raised her eyebrows and offered me the drink. I took it, but didn't leave.

  "I don't care what you think," I clarified, "How'd you get it?"

  "Has anyone ever told you," she said in an oddly monotonic voice, "That you are extremely rude?"

  And who was she to scold me? Some working girl, who obviously didn't have any money to live on. I mean, working? In high school? My fists clenched around my coffee.

  "Common opinion would declare you wrong," I managed to sound almost civil. She didn't even make the effort.

  "Common opinion is usually incorrect, in this case obviously even more so then usual."

  "And you have any right to say anything about incivility?"

  "More so then you," was the returning shot.

  'I wasn't rude until you were."

  "Pointing fingers. Very mature." She grinned, but even I could tell it was more to annoy me then to express any amount of mirth.

  "Attempting to bait me. Even more mature."

  "Who said I was baiting you?"

  "I did."

  "And why shou
ld I care what you think?"

  Clever, using y own words against me. But my response wasn't quite as enigmatic as hers.

  "Since I've been right."

  With that I walked away, for once with the last word. It didn't matter that I hadn't found out what I had set out to, that she still kept the secret of the notepaper to herself. I had got the last word, which meant I had won, and that was all that mattered.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  Emma

  * * *

  "Was that my notepaper?"

  God, chalk annoying persistence up to this guy's faults! I come over to clear Darien's table, and he gives me grief. Yet again. Can't he just let it go?

  "Perhaps." I turned to return to the counter. He grabbed my arm, keeping me there. Slowly, I turned to face him. Who was he to touch me in anyway I did not perceive necessary?

  "How did you get that paper?" he demanded. Right, Darien McGavern, that's who. But can't he just give a girl a break?

  "I dug in the garbage to find something you had touched so I could pretend I was touching you," I drawled. It would have been a wonderful exit line, but Darien's hand was still tight around my wrist, and it wasn't worth hurting him just to get away.

  "Is that the truth?" he inquired. Wow, he had actually considered it. That's just pitiful that the girls at this school would do something like that.

  "Perhaps." I tried to yank away, but his hold was to firm. Stronger then he looked. He must have some muscles…

  "Yes or no?" he insisted. Looks and presumably muscular body aside, this guy was a bastard. A far too persistent bastard.

  "Perhaps." I grinned impishly at him, than scowled as his grip grew tighter. If he continued to squeeze, screw non violence, he was going to get slaughtered. "Now, I really need to go back to work."

  "Then go," he spat.

  "You're still holding my wrist," I observed, "I mean, if you find me that irresistible..."

  He dropped my hand like it contained some really nasty disease. I rubbed my wrist. He better not have left a bruise, or I would set Allan on him.

  "Can't you just tell me?" he pressed, hopefully for the last time.

  "Yes, I could."

  "Then do!"

  "If you don't care about me or my opinions, why are you so insistent?"

  "I like to know all my stalkers," he responded coolly, leaning back in his chair as if he had come to a conclusion he had been having difficulties with, "So it seems I need to add you to the list."

  "You are an arrogant bastard."

  I meant it to be casual, a nonchalant observation. It must have come off much more vicious then intended, as his eyes flashed with what might have, in another person, been hurt. Maybe I'm not so good at containing my anger. Or he can't take the truth. I prefer the latter.

  But he flashed a brilliantly mocking smile.

  "You sound like that's a bad thing."

  I glared. He glared back. A stand-off.

  "Em!" Allan approached the table, face darkening as he saw who I was speaking with, "Is there a problem here?"

  Having a huge, bulky football player at your back does wonders for courage, even if I probably could have taken Darien on my own. Bu I'm never one to pass up bodyguards.

  "Oh, no, Allan," I smirked at Darien, "McGavern and I were just having a friendly debate."

  Darien scowled but didn't contradict. Even he was intimidated but Allan's sheer bulk, even if he didn't show it.

  "So, did you want me for anything?" I asked, turning to Allan and completely blocking Darien.

  "I just wanted to know when you were off your shift and if you wanted a ride home."

  "Allan, I've told you a million times…"

  "And it still doesn't make sense," Allan complained.

  "Wait," Darien cut in, "Lex, you know her?"

  "Your incredulity flatters me so much," I drawled, startling an amused grin out of Darien.

  "Yes I know her," Allan told Darien, "It looked like you do too."

  "Come on, Allan," I grinned at Darien's affronted glare, "I need to get back to work."

  I strode away, back straight and head high. I wasn't retreating; I was leaving the defeated enemy to lick his wounds. Allan followed me, shaking his head regretfully.

  "You shouldn't talk to him," he admonished. That got me confused. Allan was the last person to say something like that about anybody. I had never met anyone less suspicious, except maybe Brock.

  "Why not?" I asked in bemusement, "He may be a conceited asshole, but he's intelligent."

  "He's dangerous. Did you hear what he did to Mia Smith last year?"

  I had. She had requested someone else, but before I got around to it, Darien had snapped her up, and she wasn't proof against his charms. The other guy, who would have been good for her, was forgotten, and Darien had been a bastard. All because I hadn't gotten around to it.

  "Darien McGavern would never think of me like that," I assured Allan with a fake laugh that he didn't catch, "Not for all the money in the world."

  * * *

  Darien

  * * *

  I still didn't know if that was my paper. Damn that girl, she was far too evasive for her own good. Well, more for my good, but that's all that matters.

  My eyes wandered over the room to finally fix on Emma and Lex, still talking. She laughed, than walked back to the counter. He seemed to accept that it was a real laugh, but I knew better. I was an expert on fake laughs. I had been using them for years.

  But still, it was another mystery to add to Emma Laycha's score. How did Lex know her? How did she know Lex so well? I couldn't even remember Lex's real name, he had been Lex for so long.

  Maybe she was his mystery sister. But that wouldn't work, rumor had it his step mom had been poorish and Emma had gone to our school for a while. I think. I hadn't really noticed her before. Come to think of it, maybe she only came last year. But wasn't she in my English class freshman year?

  "Darien!" I screechy voice cooed, jolting me out of my thoughts. I groaned, only barely managing to keep it inaudible. I really wasn't in the mood for groupies.

  A crowd of bleached blondes converged on my table.

  "We missed you at lunch," Candy pouted. She pouted well, and she knew it.

  "And I missed all the beauty you usually provide," I smirked at her, but her eyes were already roaming the room. I turned my attention to the other girls. 'But I was just burnt out after 1st period. I needed a break."

  "Poor baby!" Jess exclaimed, "Do you, like, need another, like, coffee? Like, of course you do!"

  I began to decline, but she was insisting, rising to order it. I gave up and smiled at the rest of the flock. Candy draped herself on the chair next to me.

  "Why did you, like, leave?" she asked, "I, like, saw you. You looked, like, pissed."

  "No reason," I told her. She didn't press me, even though that was a clear invitation to let me rant. When she didn't get the hint, I continued, "Did I miss anything?"

  "Noth-"

  "Like, so much!" Lila cut her off. She began a long story about some break up or another and someone almost getting kicked out of school. Nothing I cared to corrupt my brain thinking about. My mind began to wander. Candy was the only one of these girls who occasionally had something to say, and she was still looking around the room for something.

  Emma's voice echoed in my head. What right did she have to call me a bastard? Or to deny me what I wanted to know!

  But why was I so insistent? I really didn't care except as idle curiosity if she had me paper or not. Another stalker wouldn't disturb me, and she had to know she had no chance. It might even be interesting, as she was sure to go about stalking in some intelligent way. But I kept on baiting her, even if she was responding in kind. It wasn't like she was worth arguing with, no matter what she had told Lex. Even if she was wittier then anyone else I had talked to, and didn't care about who I was; only what I said.

  "Can you, like, believe it?" Lila finished emphatically. />
  "Not at all," I responded, distracted by my musings. No one noticed, and my thoughts continued until Jess stomped back over and slammed down on her chair without any care for her obviously expensive skirt.

  "That girl was, like, very, like, rude," she whined. I looked up at the counter. Emma was calmly filling a order.

  "What did she, like, do?" Candy asked sympathetically, also looking up at the counter where Lex was chatting with Emma.

  "Well, I was like, I like your, like, bracelet. And she, like, didn't, like, tell me, like, where she, like, got it. Can you, like, believe it?"

  "She didn't!" Lila cried, along with the other surprised and horrified noises from the other girls. I could barely hold in my laughter, and them and Emma both. She had probably got it from a cheap store or something, and was afraid to admit it. But who cares anyway?

  'She must not have, like, heard you," Candy declared, "I'll try when she comes to, like, give Darien his coffee."

  Okay, Candy was being far too devious for something this trivial. Maybe all these girls were even weirder than Emma. If that was possible. At least she saved her weirdness for more important things.

  Emma walked over gingerly carrying the hot mug of coffee.

  "You, like, held up until, like, the coffee, good," Jess cooed, pushing my dark blonde hair away from my face. I shook it back irritably.

  Emma's sleeves were rolled back and her charm bracelet displayed prominently on her thin wrist. It hadn't been like that before. She had been wearing her sleeves down.

  "Let me, like, take that!" Candy offered immediately, tossing her naturally blonde hair over her shoulder and leaning across me to grab the coffee from Emma.

  "Thanks," Emma replied, handing it over, eyes twinkling.

  "Ooh!" Candy squealed, 'I, like, lover your bracelet!"

  "Thank you, my friend got it for me." Emma turned and walked away.

  "See," Candy told Jess, "She's, like, a perfectly nice girl. She just didn't have, like, an answer for you."