Misunderstood

"I don't understand," she stated. He pushed his thick framed nerdy Ray-Ban glasses up his nose and grabbed his half-filled glass of orange juice.

She could tell his patience was running thin.

It's wasn't every day that Ben found himself by a kitchen counter, tutoring a girl, rumored to most likely be Valedictorian, in very basic algebra and the young man quickly realized that he never wanted to do it again.

"What don't you understand?," he replied. "It's very simple. You just manipulate the sum by combining the like-terms and solving for x. Think of it as shopping...sort of--" He quickly realized that he shouldn't have used shopping as an example. Maybe athletics would make a better one?

"--You have to find the value of x when you shop? How come I didn't notice that?"

He sighed.

"No, not really. But the thing is, a lot of decision-making and possibly, manipulation goes into shopping; you should know."

"Like matching the right clothes together?"

"Like matching the right clothes together." He agreed.

"And matching the right colors together?"

He rubbed his face. "And matching the right colors together."

"But..." she moaned, her bottom lip jutting out.

"But what?"

"But numbers don't have color and you can't match them and make logical fashion rules about them, like for example, you can't wear sneakers and skinny jeans together. It just doesn't look right. Unless the sneakers aren't chunky of course. Then you can wear the two together, even better when the sneakers are expensive and have a label but it's kinda---"

"--Alicia, I was speaking metaphorically. Figuratively."

He rubbed his face and sighed this time. They had been at it for almost two hours now.

"Oh."

He stared at her as an awkward silence settled in the kitchen.

"Speaking of which," she continued, clearing her throat in an attempt to ease the awkward tension ", today we discussed the history of proverbs and metaphors (whatever those are) in English - you were there, weren't you? - and may I say, Ms. Maybell's loafers were absolutely horrifying and that cardigan? Absolute fashion disaster! It was muddy green; like poop. And why does she smell like buttered popcorn and burning hair all the time, I mean--"

"That's enough! I've had enough," he stood up abruptly and roughly, knocking the stool down ", enough! You are the dumbest, most dimmest, excruciatingly thick-headed, most annoying girl I've ever met in my entire life. All you do is babble and get confused. Argh! Keep the money, I don't want your one-figured IQ rubbing off on me. I'm leaving," he said dramatically as he roughly shoved his books and stationary to his back-pack ", and I'm never coming back! Never!" He said, tripping on his feet and banging the door hard as he left.

Alicia tried but she couldn't.
She tried so hard.

You know how it feels when you're texting and you're grinning at your phone like an idiot, not because he tells you that you're pretty or she tells you that she wants you. No, but because you realize you're so damn funny? (pardon the French). That's exactly how Alicia felt.

So finally, she let out an audible chuckle and shook her head.
She was so funny.
She knew he would crack. They all do.

She had done it again.

You see, Alicia Ruby Jackson didn't appear the brightest but in reality, she was brighter than them all! She did not feel insulted; not in the least bit. Not only could she perfectly manipulate those algebraic equations (thank you very much), but she knew how to push the right buttons when it came to people. She made them feel what she wanted them to feel, not to mention that she was particularly excellent when it came to decision making or at least she thought so. All it took was a skilled mind and , as the day's events had proven, a good affinity of acting and drama. It was all in a day's work.

She sighed and placed her hands behind her head, leaning back as she enjoyed the silence of the afternoon, missing her pack of Marlboros. But she sighed again, resisting the urge to curse. The silence would not last of course. It never did. There was always something somewhere. Something to do, something to fix, someone to convince, important decisions to make you know; the usual and man, was craving a smoke right now. After a short while, she decided she might as well finish her brother's math homework; the one, her "tutor" had "helped" her with, for there was absolutely no use crying over spilled milk.

Reuben "Ben" Smith, her "tutor" was actually one of the few guys she had actually truly liked. So, like most other girls, she played dumb and invited him over. Unfortunately, she could not possibly resist testing his patience and witnessing first hand how long (or short) it ran. It turns out, some guys don't like your typical dumb blond cheerleader types. Huh?

Alicia was not particularly fond of being deceptive and she was certainly not evil in the least way...mostly. Though she was not necessarily nice, when given the time and opportunity, many saw that she was kind, or at least a little rough on the edges. She did not necessarily have to taunt Ben or other guys for that matter, but she wirily realized that it was part of the job; she had to. It was her responsibility; one only she could carry (according to some... some...stupid thing), one she could not pass over to another person without some loss or consequences.

She sighed.

She always sighed when she felt the weight of her responsibilities and... when she missed her cigarettes. The sighing was a form of self-rehabilitation in some crazy twisted way. Some people turned to bubblegum and crisps, others to weird stuff like sunflower seeds, but her? It was the endless tortured sighs of despair. She had to admit that it was some sort of duty - the responsibility, not the smoking (or alas, the lack thereof). It was a burden. A happy, fulfilling, duty but a burden nonetheless especially for someone like her.

She hopped off the kitchen stool in pursuit of a pot so she could start dinner. Switching on the stove, she had started to defrost the chicken and chop neat slices of carrots when her twin-brother, Lucian walked into the house and straight through to the kitchen in his football uniform, some of his hair plastered to his head with sweat and his gym bag on his shoulder. He dropped the bag on the white ceramic floor and marched to the fridge, his features coated in fatigue and exhilaration.

"Rocky." she acknowledged him, now dicing some onion, her eyes burning.

"Sister," he replied ", the game was intense. You should have come."

He swallowed, no, no; he gulped half a bottle of juice from its container, burped out loudly and sighed in content while she looked on in disgust.

"You know how the Lion's striker looked really skilled in that last match we saw from their school vids? Well guess what?"

"What?" she inquired flatly, knowing how this would end. His eyes grew bigger and brighter and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had, after all, dug her own grave.

"He was actually, really, truly and extremely, skilled. That guy? A force to be reckoned with. He was a worthy opponent. So worthy, I almost felt unworthy playing with him! Imagine!" She laughed weakly at this dorky, senseless attempt of a joke and suddenly realized what a great sister she was.

"But you won, right?"

"Pssh, of course we won. Who do you think I am?" He exclaimed with feign shock though his face was coated in pride.

"A skilled team captain? A dork? An idiot?"

"Of course I am, uh, a skilled team captain!"

"Modest too. So charming it almost hurts." She said, in a half-joking and half-sarcastic tone. He grinned his billion dollar smile. The smile that made girls swoon instantly, the smile that could attract modeling agencies all over the state when given the chance.

Yes, Lucian Rocky "playboy-extraordinaire" Jackson was something of a model. And not a bad one if she said so herself. Tall, with dark curly hair and equally dark eyes, a small beauty spot right above his lip on the right corner of his mouth and of course, dimples when he laughed or smiled. She knew her twin brother was good looking alright, though she could not see
1. the exact extent of his attractiveness because you can't see a person you've bathed with until you were almost eight like that and
2. How she was related (never mind born) with a supermodel like this, not that she was in any way ugly herself and thirdly, she could not see how his spontaneous childlike giddiness and immaturity did not interfere with his manliness and Christian Grey-ic charisma.

"I'm heading out to a party with the guys after a shower," He said as he walked out the kitchen, a water bottle in hand after he had planted a kiss on her cheek. "Tell mom and dad not to wait up for me."

She knew exactly what would be going on at that party. Before everything happened, she would be found at one too.

~~~~~~~

You deserve a potato for making so far. Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.