Chapter Three-Jackie's Boyfriend Makes An Appearance(but, seriously, who cares?)

"I have a boyfriend, you know."

I stifled a groan, closing my eyes and hoping that Jackie would think that I was asleep. I was beginning to realize that she never shut up. Ever. And while her babble was marginally less annoying than it could have been, and sometime bordered on something halfway intelligent, I still didn't want to hear the "I-cheated-and-man-I'm-such-a-slut-but-ooh-you-were-so-hot" monologue that girls so favor.

"That could be a problem," Jackie went on, unconvincingly. She didn't sound about to launch into a speech about how amoral she was. She sounded sleepy and amused and like, well, Jackie-drawling and sardonic and slightly vulnerable. "Probably. Although, I could tell him about it . . . that would really piss him off." She grinned and propped herself up on my pillow, her hand cradling her chin. "Whaddya think? Maybe we could go tell him together. You could do that thing where you stand around looking badass until he pees himself."

"Your boyfriend isn't my problem," I told the ceiling, and she pouted, rolling onto her back with a rustle of sheets. "You're no fun. I'm trying to plot my revenge, here."

"Is that why you slept with me? Revenge?" Not that I cared. I was just asking because-because-because I was gathering information to determine how to proceed. There was nothing emotional in that. At all. It was a highly scientific endeavor, and one that Ox would be proud of(if I ever told him of the whole debacle, which I wouldn't, because he would lecture me ceaselessly about disrespecting a girl's virtue).

"Revenge," she mused, looking over and reaching out one finger to trail down my cheek. My skin broke out in goosebumps, which was a purely physical reaction that I had nothing to do with and did not mean that I had feelings for her. Because I didn't. "And you're pretty."

I turned my head, knocking away her hand, and glared at her. "I'm what?"

"Pretty," she giggled. There was a moment where I thought I should kiss her-was that proper etiquette?-but I didn't. Her brown eyes flitted to my lips, and she grinned, tracing her thumb around them softly. "You're very pretty."

"Girls are pretty. I am brimming with manly charm and handsomeness."

Jackie threw back her head, laughing, and rolled off the bed, embarking on a search for her clothes. Apparently, she thought I had been joking.

I threw my legs over the other side of the mattress and rested my elbows on my knees. My head was pounding slightly from getting up so fast, and from sleeping at such a strange time. I could tell by the light in the room that it was just past sunset, though the exact time escaped me since I couldn't see the moon and the digital clock that I used to have was smashed by Ox during SAT season, because he believed that anything electronic screwed with brain waves and memory.

"So, what was your reason?" Jackie asked me.

"For?" I grunted, still looking at the floor.

"Y'know. The sex."

The word made me flinch. I tried to cover it up with a few uninspired shivers, but I doubted she bought it. I didn't answer her question. I didn't usually have a reason-wasn't the act itself a reason? Somehow, I guessed that she wouldn't appreciate that answer, no matter how honest it was.

"Well, I'm in trouble, anyway," Jackie said, once it had been silent for long enough to be completely awkward. "I went out for ice cream and popcorn and ended up gone for hours. I totally stood Kim up." She sounded more upset over this than over cheating on her boyfriend. She looked over at me, brown eyes unreadable, and said softly, "Tell me again that I'm dating an asshole."

"Why?" I had no idea where she got this crap, I really didn't.

"Just say it. Say it and I'll leave him."

I stared up at her. What the hell for? "Leave him if you want to." It seemed obvious.

Her face didn't crumple or anything, but she turned away from me quickly, hands scrabbling to pull on her jeans. I pretended not to notice the way they trembled. "You really don't care, do you?"

I shrugged.

"Whatever," Jackie sighed, already at the door. "I knew that already." She went to leave, then paused and turned back to face me. "Harvar?"

"Mm."

"Can I come here again?" To her credit, she didn't blush or stammer as she made the request. She just looked at me levelly, speaking in the same nonchalant tone. It made me wonder who the careless one really was.

I shrugged again. "I guess." I had the vague feeling that I should be saying something, doing something, that I wasn't. Was this the part where I asked for her number?

"Right. Well." Jackie stopped, opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. "Bye."

"Wait-" I stood up, acting on a ghost of a thought. "I'll walk you . . ." Home? To her door? Even I didn't know what I was saying.

Jackie just chuckled. "Not like that, cowboy." She left my dorm room, shutting the door firmly behind her. I realized that I still wasn't wearing pants. Cursing to myself, I hastily threw on a few things and lunged for the doorknob, throwing the door open as though it was an enemy I wanted to get past only to run into a startled Ox on the other side.

"Harvar!" he yelped in surprise(not that he ever does anything so unmanly as "yelp"), dropping his bags. "What are you-"

I gently moved him to the side, striding out into the hall and looking left and right. Jackie was already gone, but when I passed by the window at the end of the corridor, I saw her crossing the green to the girls' dorm. I knew what this was; this was the part where I ran after her and said and did all of the things that I was supposed to, and a pop song from the seventies started playing and we held hands and walked off into the movie credits. I tried to move, but my legs wouldn't cooperate, and then Jackie was entering the dorm and it was too late.

"Harvar, what's going on?" Ox demanded from behind me.

I watched the dark patch of the door that Jackie had disappeared through. Then I snapped myself out of it and turned around to face my meister. He was watching me with confused concern. Wordlessly, I picked up his bags and carried them into our room, dumping them on his bed.

"Harvar!" He stood in the doorway, paralyzed. "What happened while I was gone?"

For a terrible second, I thought that he had spotted a pair of underwear where it shouldn't be or the used casing in the trash can; but then I realized that he was referring to the state of the room itself. It usually was kept in military-barracks-like order, but with the advent of Jacqueline in my weekend, I'd barely had time to throw yesterday's clothes in a laundry basket.

"Was there an earthquake? A tornado?" Ox demanded, moving through our room as though he was touring a war zone.

"It was a natural disaster," I said, and then added at a lower volume, "a real hot mess." Emphasis on hot. In a purely factual sense.

Ox whirled on me. "We have to clean this up right away! I just called my sweet darling, and there's no way that she's coming over to this fire hazard!"

"Kim's coming over?" I asked, feeling unnaturally disturbed by the prospect. Ox nearly glowed with happiness, as he always did when talking about the witch. "Yes. She missed me," he said, sounding about to take off with the joy of it. "Can you believe it?"

I chose to start cleaning rather than give him my honest opinion. Jackie's shoes were under my bed; I surreptitiously shoved them farther in with my toe while Ox rattled on about Kim and dusted his hair gel collection.

"So, how was your weekend?" he finally asked, after exhausting the subject of Kim's slim and pretty neck.

I shrugged, rapidly folding a pile of clothes that had sprung up out of nowhere, for all I knew. I considered possible answers, but every single one of them ended with "and I slept with your girlfriend's weapon.", and that wasn't exactly something I wanted to spread around. I would be fine if it never came out at all, really. My sexual life-not up for discussion. Besides, Death himself couldn't predict how Ox would react.

"I watched True Blood," I finally said, which wasn't an entire lie. I had-for the fifteen minutes between Jackie's first visit and her second.

Ox sighed. "I wish you'd stop doing that. If it ever gets out, you'll ruin both of our reputations."

I graciously did not point out that he had already done that upon several occasions. One of them-where he had dressed as Little Bo Peep to get a part in a play that Kim was in-was particularly fresh in my memories, much as I might wish it otherwise. I stowed my folded pile of clothes back in my wardrobe and began making my bed, praying that the sheets were clean enough to pass unnoticed until laundry day. Ox fussed around me, straightening this and that and commenting every now and then on how messy the place had become in barely two days.

"Are you sure you want Kim to come over?" I finally ventured.

"What?" Ox stopped and stared at me. I wondered if it was because I was questioning him or because I was speaking at all; typically it was easier to just ride out the insanity.

"It's already late," I explained. Ox checked his watch immediately. "It's eight," he said. "Curfew isn't for another hour and a half-actually, make that two, since it's a weekend."

"But it's a school morning tomorrow," I reminded him.

"Okay, okay. That's still an hour and a half from now. Plenty of time to cross the green and back, with maybe a few minutes to visit, as well." He was being sarcastic, an unfortunate habit that he'd picked up from Maka.

I scowled. "Just trying to look out for your precious girlfriend."

"I haven't seen my precious girlfriend in two days," Ox retorted. "And my weapon is being downright objectionable about something that's really none of his business."

"What about your roommate?" I demanded, not as mildly as I should have. "You bringing a witch into our room at all hours of the night-is that none of my business?" I just wanted a minute-one fucking minute-without any girls around, so that I could just breathe. Spending so much time with Jackie colored my rational thought into something angry and purple and seeping, a rotted wound of seething emotion.

Ox flushed; he hated when anyone mentioned that Kim was a witch. "You are perfectly free to leave," he said through gritted teeth. "No one's keeping you here."

I knew that Jackie was right-I was a horrible person-but I never contradicted my meister. I never criticized him for fawning over Kim. I never brought up the many times he made us look like fools, or the almost-deadly missions we took so that he could look good. And while everything I did was so that he could live a happy life, I never made any attempt to shake him of his dangerously naive way of thinking. It wasn't because I consciously decided to ignore all of that; it just never bothered me in the first place. I didn't care if he wanted to bring Kim over at night or drag me on a double date as his wingman after he already got the fucking girl.

So instead of firing off even one of the nasty comments growing on my tongue, I left, shutting the door gently behind me so that he wouldn't think for a second that I cared enough to slam it.

I passed Kim on the green as she was going in to see Ox; she was alone. She also looked steamed, which might have had something to do with the fact that Jackie had stood her up. I wondered if she knew the reason why, and for some perverse reason, I hoped that she did. And, maybe, that she told Ox.

Which was not a remotely rational desire.

I went to the cafeteria, since the last thing I had eaten was a revoltingly pink cupcake, and made myself a cup of ramen from the emergency supplies kept behind the counter for students who miss the regular meal times. At such a late hour, there was only one other person in the room, someone sitting with their back to me, head bent over a stack of schoolbooks. Ignoring them out of respect for anyone still doing their homework at eight o'clock Sunday night, I sat in the corner and ate quickly, watching the sky outside grow dark.

"What the hell?"

The exclamation was loud in the mausoleum-like cafeteria, and I looked up reflexively to see who had spoken and why. There was a vaguely familiar boy standing a few feet from me; the one who had been studying a few moments before.

I looked at him. He looked at me. I couldn't place where I had seen him before, so instead I just pushed my empty bowl away and said, somewhat impatiently, "Can I help you?"

"You're that guy who ruined my date!" the boy accused, pointing at me, as if it wasn't obvious who he was speaking to in the totally-empty-except-for-us room. I studied his face, still trying to figure out who he was. He was completely ordinary looking, except for a blooming bruise around his right eye . . . oh. Jackie's-her whatever. That guy she had been with. What was his name?

"Oh. It's you," I grunted, and stood up. He seemed to take this as an offensive move, because he backed up several steps and raised his hands threateningly. I gathered up the remains of my meal and dumped them into the nearest trash can. Then I moved past the boy, heading for the door.

"W-wait!" he called after me, and I wheeled back around to face him, annoyed. I'd thought that he was done. Why couldn't everyone just leave me the hell alone? I folded my arms and waited.

"What did you do with Jackie?" He was arrogant-I could see it now, in the way that he tilted his chin back, narrowed his eyes, stood casually and coolly-but not as flagrantly so as before. Jackie punching him had clearly taken him down a few well-deserved notches, but looking at him still pissed me off.

"I find that a very personal question," I said calmly, which just made him scowl at me more. Was that how I looked all the time? No-I had to look cooler. He just looked like a frowning idiot, with his damnable mouth all pursed up and his already tiny eyes all squinty and hard. A piggy, frowning idiot.

"You better not have touched my girlfriend," he said, which doubtless sounded very macho to his own ears but was more of a wince-worthy cliche to mine. Instead of answering him, I shrugged.

"Well, did you?" he demanded. Not remembering his name was starting to bug me-Jackie had said it a couple of times . . . what did it begin with? L? V? It was something moronic and simple; not at all a noble title like, say, Harvar D. Eclair. Or Ox Ford. Just saying.

Whatever-his-name-is was getting impatient, shifting uncomfortably and looking less cocky by the second. Probably he had imagined his manly confrontation going much better than it was.

"Sorry," I said, not sorry at all, "but do I know you?"

"Why-" he started, going as if to punch me but then reining himself in. He repeated, "Why-" The stuttering thing was really getting on my nerves.

"Why what?"

"I'm talking about Jackie!" he finally yelped. I kind of wanted to give him a prize for finally speaking in a grammatically complete sentence. "Jackie O! What the hell have you done with her?"

"I've never met Jackie O.," I said, starting to enjoy pissing him off. "But I would really like to-her husband was a great man."

"Not that-" He made a noise of frustration, his hands balling into fists. "Jackie O. Lantern. She's my girlfriend and you better not have touched her!"

"Oh? She's your girlfriend?" I unfolded my arms and thrust my hands into my pockets. "That's funny. She never mentioned that when she threw herself at me."

"She what?!"

Yes. I was definitely enjoying this.

"It was annoying, really," I grunted. "On second we're talking, and the next, she's ripping my clothes off. She just couldn't wait to do it-so impatient." I scoffed. "And it's not like we even know each other that well."

"You-you-you bastard!" he spluttered. Was his name Eric? Or maybe Aidan? That last one sounded close-I started going through A names. Aaron, Antonio, Alex . . .

"Sorry," I replied, again not apologetic. "Did you want to do her? Looks like I got there first." I grinned, and it wasn't forced in the least. I was actually happy that I was ruining this guy's(Adam? Arthur? Maybe I was on the wrong track . . .)day. Like I said, I'm a horrible person. There was no reason to get all moral about it. "Or maybe-what's that saying? She's just not that into you."

A decent guy would have let himself be punched by the scorned hopefully-now-ex-boyfriend(Andrew? Austin? Alden . . . Alden? That sounded almost right-), but I'm not a decent guy, so I blocked the blow and twisted his wrist backwards, ignoring his grunt of pain. After a few minutes of that, I got bored, so I released him and started to leave the cafeteria again. I'd fought people over less, but honestly, I kind of deserved a punch, even a blocked one, so I let it slide.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" Alan-yes! It was Alan!-howled after me, very dramatically. I rolled my eyes. He really was an asshole-such a cliched asshole of a boyfriend. I was surprised that someone like him actually existed in the world.

Also, I was dying for a smoke.