Freak

by Alicia Masterson

  Freak

  BY

  Alicia Masterson

  CHAPTER ONE

  Christine O'Hara decided that she deserved a five minute break, and turned her phone on to check her voicemail.

  You have one new message. First message:

  "Hey, Christine, this is Brian. I need your help as soon as you're home. Please come over, quick, it's an emergency!"

  "Oh, shit, what could have happened?" Christine O'Hara was terrified, for once. She's been Brian's best friend and confidant since childhood, and she's never heard him sound so scared and panicked. Christine was even more concerned since Brian recently started acting like the popular jock he always aspired to be. Something must be really wrong for him to be that worried. All of these thoughts were circulating through her head as she quickly put together a plan to escape from her shift at Starbucks.

  "Brian, cover for me, I have to go home."

  "Hey, no, not possible. Look at this crowd. There's no way I'm dealing with them on my own," he said, looking incredulous at her spontaneous suggestion. Her eyes took on an intensity that would make grown men cry.

  "Okay, let me put it this way. If you try to stop me from leaving, I'll break every bone in your body. My best friend's in trouble. I'll give you ten seconds to accept my gracious offer before I leave."

  "Ten seconds? Fine. Brian's a big boy, whatever's going on, I'm sure he can take care of himself. But if you feel like jeopardizing a job and my sanity to play heroine, then you can take the heat from the boss when he finds out."

  Before he finished talking, she sped out of the store, the screeching of her tires audible as she flew out of the parking lot, leaving nothing except the chill from the outside fall air in her wake. He shook his head as he looked at the increasingly irritable looking crowd that just realized that it would twice as long to get their coffee.

  "I hope she doesn't crash…" he says to himself, "otherwise I'll get in all the trouble for this mess. Alright, alright, I get it, stop complaining! Damn it, I'm working as fast I can…" He sighed heavily, "Why does it seem like everything always happens to me?"

  --

  Christine cursed the world as she maneuvered around cars on the freeway. She ignored the honks directed at her, and the middle fingers her driving earned. Her sanity wasn't helped by her frequent failed attempts to contact Brian.

  "Damn it Brian, pick up, you're killing me here… ugh, stupid. Why did I listen to my boss today of all days? Shut off your phone, he says. Bad for the customers, he says. What the hell does he know? Damn it, the first day my phone is ever off, and I get a message like this… what's with these stupid cars! They are so fucking slow! Get out of my way!"

  By the time her car careened into her suburban neighborhood, she had worked herself up into a frenzy. She flew into her driveway, busted out of the car door, and started running with all the grace of a newborn duckling down the block to Brian's house. She chose to not notice the bewildered stares of her neighbors and the laughter of children at her antics and she approached his house. The flames of her panic were further fanned because his parents' cars weren't in the driveway. Panting from adrenaline, she banged on the door, screaming her lungs out.

  "Brian Mannus, open this goddamned door right now!" She started using both fists now, almost working herself up into tears. When he finally opened down the door, she lunged in and hugged him impulsively.

  "Oh my god, I'm so glad you're okay, you big idiot, you had me so worried, I thought you were hurt and no one was here. Wait…" she paused, reacquainting herself with her senses. She blushed slightly when she realized she was hugging the life out of an almost completely naked Brian. "Why are you in your boxers? What the fuck is going on? Do you have any idea how fast I sped to get here so quick. Don't ever scare me like that, asshole!"

  She started losing it again, going from hugging him to throwing half-hearted punches at him. Brian was more confused than anything else, trying his best to comfort his friend.

  "Whoa, whoa, Christine, calm down, calm down. Hey, ouch, that one actually hurt a little. I'm really sorry for scaring you like that, but I can't sit still, I'm freaking out. I asked Abigail Sinclair out earlier to dinner for our first date tonight, and she said yes. I need your help to get ready; I barely know where to start."

  "What!? You couldn't think to mention that in your message? You sounded like you were in mortal peril. Where do you get off scaring me like that?" Her concern was quickly turning into rage, color filling her cheeks.

  Brian couldn't help but laugh softly at how ridiculous the situation turned. He gave her a goofy grin and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. His lack of remorse triggered the full extent of Christine's fury, though. She made sure to take a deep breath and exhale before starting.

  "Okay, let me get this straight. You call me, sounding like you're about to die, and I go over twice the speed limit to get my ass over here. And for what? To help you make a good impression on little miss pompoms? Give me one good reason why I should even help you win over that poor excuse of a woman. Especially considering what you just put me through. Actually, no, give me one good reason why I should even stay here. I might as well go back to Starbucks. God knows that Brian is probably wetting himself by now." His look of embarrassment changed into one of panic as she finished speaking.

  "No, don't leave! Please Christine, I need you. I've been waiting for this opportunity forever, and I can't ruin it now. It has to be perfect. I have to be perfect. I have no idea how to even start. What do I wear? What do I say? This date's important! I'm going out with the co-captain of the cheerleading squad!" He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Plus, I don't want her to find out that this is my first real date. You're probably the only person in the world who can get my act together before I make a total fool of myself…"

  She put both of her hands on the side of his head, forced him to look right at her, and looked straight into his blue eyes. She released her breath when saw that he sincerely meant his last sentence. Against her better judgment, she acquiesced.

  "Hmph. Oh, Brian, lovable oaf, it's impossible to stay mad at such a dork," she said, shaking her head in pity. "When did you start caring so much what people think of you, anyway? Never mind that, of course I'll help. You might want to start with clothing, you know. Unless you're hoping to win her over with your physique. Actually, since its Sinclair we're talking about, you're probably already wearing too much…"

  He laughed, relieved that her anger reverted back to her usual humor. To lighten the mood, he decided to take advantage of the situation to joke back at her.

  "Shut it, and help me pick something out. Just be thankful you were lucky enough to catch me between outfits." He glanced at her seductively, raising his eyebrows, before laughing and strutting to his room, almost instantly calmed down by the presence of his long time friend.

  Christine quietly sighed in response to his joke, pleased with the temporary return of the old Brian she knew, and followed obediently. Her nostalgic thoughts were cut short though when she laid her eyes upon his room.

  "Holy mother of -" she uttered, flabbergasted. The entire room was covered in outfits, covering the bed, the floor, hanging from every place imaginable. The outfits, all perfectly ironed and color coordinated, ranged from ultra-casual, to preppy, to simple jock. There were different shoes placed nearby some of the outfits. Her eyes grew wider when she saw his dresser, almost entirely covered with organized accessories, with bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and hats of varying styles. His normally messy room now looked as if an obsessive compulsive tornado ransacked all of his belongings. Judging from the smell and humidity, he was probably trying on different colognes, and showering to get them off, too.

  "I told you I needed help." Brian said, glancing at her s
heepishly, a deep blush on his face. All of her composure left her, she wasn't sure how to react, the pure shock from the state of his room drained Christine think coherently.

  "What is this… how did you… where did all of this… why… uh?"

  "Christine?" He said, waving his hand in front of her face, still frozen in shock. "Are you okay? I told you I have no idea what I'm doing. I put all of my nervous energy in trying to decide what to wear tonight… I guess I got a little carried away with the outfits."

  A slight chuckle came from within her throat. "Ha… Brian… haha… hahahaha… I can't believe you… oh my god, how can anyone be so pathetically cute!" She fell backwards on her butt, by now laughing hysterically. Brian, finally understanding her shock, took a good look around his room, and started laughing too. It took a few minutes for Christine to recover, and after the last few chuckles came out, Brian helped up his red-faced friend. Slowly regaining her composure, she carefully tiptoed around the room, taking a careful look this time at all of the clothes he set out, appraising their quality.

  "Brian, this is actually amazing. When did you get so good at dressing yourself? I didn't even know you had some of these clothes. Where did you hide of all of this stuff anyway? I never see you wearing it in school or out."

  "I don't really know. I've had most of this for a long time, but I never bothered to wear them. It kind of just started with one outfit," gesturing towards a simple pair of blue jeans with a green polo, "but I thought that was too casual, so I put together another outfit. And I guess I've been doing that all day since this morning. When I emptied my closet of everything that was worth wearing, I called you, because I realized that I had no idea what I was doing. What do you think?"

  "I don't think you can go wrong with a lot of this," she said, still sorting through all of the outfits. She looked over at him, and saw that he was biting his lip, waiting for her input or approval. She decided to mess with him a little bit while he was still vulnerable. "Have you ever considered that you're playing for the wrong team? There's a lot of taste here." He rolled his eyes, seeing where she was going with this

  "You're a riot, Christine. I probably just get it from you; you're the master, after all."

  "Na, this is definitely natural talent. A lot of this is way better than anything I could've come up with for you. It makes sense, you know. Never dating before, the sudden interest in football in high school. The showers, all of those naked hotties in a confined area. But you don't have to worry about it, I'm cool with it." Brian shook his head, letting her have her fun at his expense. He did somewhat deserve it.

  "You watch too much television. You can have your fantasies for all I care. But just help me decide then, if these outfits are as good as you say."

  "Oh, you're no fun. Fine," she said, throwing him her favorites, pushing him into his bathroom to try them on. "Put some clothes on, you weirdo."

  Within a half hour, the pair had settled on a single outfit. Brian wore a tight fitting dark brown silk polo that showed off his muscular arms and showcased the body that resulted from years of hard work and football. He also had a pair of dark blue low riding jeans that hugged his legs in all the right places. He finished the ensemble with a tight puka shell necklace, his usual black-faced stainless steel watch, brown Rainbows flip flops, and small, patterned silver hoop earrings.

  "Should I wear a hat?" Brian asked, ask he and Christine began the process of putting away the remainder of his clothes.

  "Oh, are you finally regretting that buzz cut you got? Na, blond goes well with your outfit. You didn't call me over here just to talk about clothes though, right?"

  "No, actually, I was thinking. Since I've never been out on a real date before… would you possibly consider joining me on a double date? You could make sure I don't totally embarrass myself, and to be honest, you being there would ease my nerves a lot."

  "Would you like to run that by me again? You ask me, the night of the date, if I would care to join you, giving me no time to find a date, while I still reek like coffee?" Her forgotten temper was beginning to flare again, and her voice was trembling in hurt. "You ask me that, just so I can help you not make a fool of yourself. Knowing full well that we haven't properly spent time with each other in months because of your football schedule and my job."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I was trying to take advantage of you, please don't cry. You're right, what I asked was stupid, I'll do this on my own." Her face returned to normal, and she wiped away the beginnings of tears.

  "I didn't mean to worry you. It's just that, you're so different from the happy-go-lucky Brian I grew up with. It's like, I have to learn who you are all over again. I guess I just miss him a little bit, that's all." She paused, finding her composure again for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "But enough of this angst, now's the time for celebration. Let's get you ready for this!"

  "I couldn't agree with you more," Brian said, smiling. He felt like he grew closer with his best friend just then. He also felt guilty that he let his ambition for popularity drive a wedge between what they had, even if it was just a small wedge.

  The extent of the pep talk that Brian received from Christine was reassurance that he is already a great person. Pretty words and gimmicks only cover up the person that's already there. And with that said, they spent the remainder of the day before the date laughing and shouting from playing Halo 3, to help keep Brian's mind off of things.

  --

  Brian pulled over beside the Sinclair household, five minutes early. His nerves were beginning to return, and he took a moment to admire the pristine landscaping that bordered the house before he put on his best face and confidently stepped to the door. After ringing the doorbell, he stood patiently, with his hands fidgeting behind his back. Mr. Sinclair answered the door, a large beast of a man, easily 6'5'', with a build that resembled a rhino's. He said nothing, merely sizing up the man looking at him unfalteringly.

  "Hello, Mr. Sinclair, I'm Brian Mannus," he said, trying not to let his fear show.

  He remained silent. He frowned, gave Brian a glare that probably meant something like, "If she's hurt, you're dead," and sidestepped to allow his daughter to pass.

  Brian's serious demeanor lightened significantly when Abigail joined him outside. She wore a low cut, pink, short-sleeved blouse that was obviously meant to show off her cleavage, with a dark red hoodie over it, zipped up halfway. She also had on a pair of tight black jeans, with red slip on shoes that matched her hoodie. Her brown hair was draped neatly behind her head, radiant in the light of the evening sun.

  "Abigail, you look beautiful tonight," Brian managed to stumble out.

  "And? You're saying I don't look beautiful every day?" She retorted.

  "No! I mean. What I was trying to say was. I, uh, you—"

  "Shh, calm down, I was only joking. Thank you for your compliment. You look pretty fine yourself tonight," she said, before turning towards her father, "It's alright daddy. You saw it for yourself, he's a sweetie. I'll be back at eleven!"

  And with that, he nodded, smiling, and closed the door. After Brian recovered from her joke, he breathed, and walked her to his car, with her clinging to him arm and giggling all the way. As he started his car, and checked to see if anyone was coming, they both remained silent. But as he pulled out of the driveway, she started again.

  "Let's put on some music! What do you listen to? She asked, searching through her purse for an iPod.

  "I, um, don't actually listen to that much music," he admitted. He never felt embarrassed about that fact until tonight.

  "Oh, really? Well, that's a shame, do you mind? I'll just put some of mine in," she said, as she put in a car adapter for her iPod, and started playing high-bass club music. "I'm guessing you probably don't like to dance, either."

  "I'm not sure, I've never given it a shot," he admitted, feeling further embarrassment. He was afraid that he might turn her off from him if they didn't have enough in common, but at the sa
me time, he still wanted to be honest.

  "Oh, that's fine, you don't have to feel embarrassed. It's never too late to learn. Everyone loves to dance on the inside, they just have to let it out," she laughed, trying to loosen him up. "Cheer up! I've watched you on the field; you're amazing at what you do. Speaking of which, what else do you do?"

  "During the football season, there's not much else, I guess. My friend Christine was just teasing me today; we never have any time to hang out this time of the year. It's either a game, a practice, or workouts, there's not enough time in a day. You've met her, right?"

  "Oh… the O'Hara girl? I know her, but I don't think we've ever spoken. She seems pretty cold to my 'type'. Not that I can blame her sometimes of course, we cheerleaders can be pretty cold back. How long have you known her?"

  "Most of my life, she's great, always there for me…" he paused, realizing he said something potentially stupid, "Oh, not that you're not great or anything, it's just that, uh… sorry, I'm kind of new at this dating thing."

  "Nono! Don't apologize, I get it. But that's amazing, how have you stayed off of the dating radar for so long? You're so sweet and honest, I think it's cute, such a nice change from the jerk guys I usually end up going with. Not to mention that you're amazingly talented. You also happen to be ridiculously hot! You definitely need to dress up more often." She blushed she finished, worrying that she might be going a little bit too fast. She looked curiously at him; he had a huge grin plastered on his face. "What's wrong?"

  "You really think so? That I'm… hot?" He asked, finding it harder to concentrate on the road.

  "Oh, duh, Brian, you're silly. People talk about you, you know, whether you realize it or not. Look at those guns! How could anyone not find you hot? Oo… hold on, I love this song…"

  Having finally received the boost to his confidence that he needed, Brian breathing eased. He pulled into the parking lot of the local family owned Italian restaurant that he frequented, and found a spot away from the other cars. They felt the warm, aromatic air surround them as they made their way to the waiting hostess, who seated them promptly.